All  Hail Aman!!!

Contents

I: Jason

II: Jason

III: Jason

IV: Jason

V: Reyna

VI: Reyna

VII: Reyna

VIII: Reyna

IX: Leo

X: Leo

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XI: Leo

XII: Leo

XIII: Nico

XIV: Nico

XV: Nico

XVI: Nico

XVII: Piper

XVIII: Piper

XIX: Piper

XX: Piper

XXI: Reyna

XXII: Reyna

XXIII: Reyna

XXIV: Reyna

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XXV: Jason

XXVI: Jason

XXVII: Jason

XXVIII: Jason

XXIX: Nico

XXX: Nico

XXXI: Nico

XXXII: Nico

XXXIII: Leo

XXXIV: Leo

XXXV: Leo

XXXVI: Leo

XXXVII: Reyna

XXXVIII: Reyna

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XXXIX: Reyna

XL: Reyna

XLI: Piper

XLII: Piper

XLIII: Piper

XLIV: Piper

XLV: Nico

XLVI: Nico

XLVII: Nico

XLVIII: Nico

XLIX: Jason

ll: Jason

LI: Jason

LII: Jason

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LIII: Nico

LIV: Nico

LV: Nico

LVI: Nico

LVII: Piper

LVIII: Leo

Glossary

Rick Riordan is the creator of the award-win-

ning, bestselling Percy Jackson series and

the thrilling Kane Chronicles and Heroes of

Olympus series. According to Rick, the idea

for the Percy Jackson stories was inspired by

his son Haley. But rumour has it that Camp

Half-Blood actually exists, and Rick spends

his summers there recording the adventures

of young demigods. Some believe that, to

avoid a mass panic among the mortal popu-

lation, he was forced to swear on the River

Styx to present Percy Jackson’s story as

fiction.

Rick lives in Boston (apart from his summers

on Half-Blood Hill) with his wife and two

sons.

10/982

To learn more about him and his books, vis-

it: www.rickriordanmythmaster.co.uk

To my wonderful readers.

Sorry about that apology for that last

cliffhanger.

I’ll try to avoid cliffhangers in this book.

Well, except for maybe a few small ones …

because I love you guys.

Books by Rick Riordan

The Percy Jackson series

PERCY JACKSON AND THE LIGHTNING THIEF

PERCY JACKSON AND THE SEA OF MONSTERS

PERCY JACKSON AND THE TITAN’S CURSE

PERCY JACKSON AND THE BATTLE OF THE

LABYRINTH

PERCY JACKSON AND THE LAST OLYMPIAN

THE DEMIGOD FILES

PERCY JACKSON AND THE GREEK GODS

The Heroes of Olympus series

THE LOST HERO

THE SON OF NEPTUNE

13/982

THE MARK OF ATHENA

THE HOUSE OF HADES

THE BLOOD OF OLYMPUS

THE DEMIGOD DIARIES

The Kane Chronicles series

THE RED PYRAMID

THE THRONE OF FIRE

THE SERPENT’S SHADOW

THE KANE CHRONICLES: SURVIVAL GUIDE

Percy Jackson/Kane Chronicles Adventures

(ebooks)

THE SON OF SOBEK

THE STAFF OF SERAPIS

Graphic novels

14/982

PERCY JACKSON AND THE LIGHTNING THIEF

PERCY JACKSON AND THE SEA OF MONSTERS

PERCY JACKSON AND THE TITAN’S CURSE

THE KANE CHRONICLES: THE RED PYRAMID

HEROES OF OLYMPUS: THE LOST HERO

www.rickriordanmythmaster.co.uk

Seven half-bloods shall answer the call,

To storm or fire the world must fall.

An oath to keep with a final breath,

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.

The Book was Uploaded By Acube as a gift to Preet!

I

Jason

JASON HATED BEING OLD.

His joints hurt. His legs shook. As he tried

to climb the hill, his lungs rattled like a box

of rocks.

He couldn’t see his face, thank goodness,

but his fingers were gnarled and bony. Bul-

ging blue veins webbed the backs of his

hands.

He even had that old-man smell – moth-

balls and chicken soup. How was that pos-

sible? He’d gone from sixteen to seventy-five

in a matter of seconds, but the old-man smell

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happened instantly, like Boom. Congratula-

tions! You stink!

‘Almost there.’ Piper smiled at him. ‘You’re

doing great.’

Easy for her to say. Piper and Annabeth

were disguised as lovely Greek serving maid-

ens. Even in their white sleeveless gowns and

laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating

the rocky path.

Piper’s mahogany hair was pinned up in a

braided spiral. Silver bracelets adorned her

arms. She resembled an ancient statue of her

mom, Aphrodite, which Jason found a little intimidating.

Dating a beautiful girl was nerve-racking

enough. Dating a girl whose mom was the

goddess of love … well, Jason was always

afraid he’d do something unromantic and

Piper’s mom would frown down from Mount

Olympus and change him into a feral hog.

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Jason glanced uphill. The summit was still

a hundred yards above.

‘Worst idea ever.’ He leaned against a ce-

dar tree and wiped his forehead. ‘Hazel’s ma-

gic is too good. If I have to fight, I’ll be

useless.’

‘It won’t come to that,’ Annabeth prom-

ised. She looked uncomfortable in her

serving-maiden outfit. She kept hunching

her shoulders to keep the dress from slip-

ping. Her pinned-up blonde bun had come

undone in the back and her hair dangled like

long spider legs. Knowing her hatred of

spiders, Jason decided not to mention that.

‘We infiltrate the palace,’ she said. ‘We get

the information we need, and we get out.’

Piper set down her amphora, the tall

ceramic wine jar in which her sword was hid-

den. ‘We can rest for a second. Catch your

breath, Jason.’

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From her waist cord hung her cornucopia

– the magic horn of plenty. Tucked some-

where in the folds of her dress was her knife,

Katoptris. Piper didn’t look dangerous, but if

the need arose she could dual-wield Celestial

bronze blades or shoot her enemies in the

face with ripe mangoes.

Annabeth slung her own amphora off her

shoulder. She, too, had a concealed sword,

but even without a visible weapon she looked

deadly. Her stormy grey eyes scanned the

surroundings, alert for any threat. If any

dude asked Annabeth for a drink, Jason

figured she was more likely to kick the guy in

the bifurcum .

He tried to steady his breathing.

Below them, Afales Bay glittered, the water

so blue it might’ve been dyed with food col-

ouring. A few hundred yards offshore, the

Argo II rested at anchor. Its white sails

looked no bigger than postage stamps, its

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ninety oars like toothpicks. Jason imagined

his friends on deck following his progress,

taking turns with Leo’s spyglass, trying not

to laugh as they watched Grandpa Jason

hobble uphill.

‘Stupid Ithaca,’ he muttered.

He supposed the island was pretty enough.

A spine of forested hills twisted down its

centre. Chalky white slopes plunged into the

sea. Inlets formed rocky beaches and har-

bours where red-roofed houses and white

stucco churches nestled against the

shoreline.

The hills were dotted with poppies, cro-

cuses and wild cherry trees. The breeze

smelled of blooming myrtle. All very nice –

except the temperature was about a hundred

and five degrees. The air was as steamy as a

Roman bathhouse.

It would’ve been easy for Jason to control

the winds and fly to the top of the hill, but

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nooo. For the sake of stealth, he had to

struggle along as an old dude with bad knees

and chicken-soup stink.

He thought about his last climb, two weeks

ago, when Hazel and he had faced the bandit

Sciron on the cliffs of Croatia. At least then

Jason had been at full strength. What they

were about to face would be much worse

than a bandit.

‘You sure this is the right hill?’ he asked.

‘Seems kind of – I don’t know – quiet.’

Piper studied the ridgeline. Braided in her

hair was a bright blue harpy feather – a

souvenir from last night’s attack. The feather

didn’t exactly go with her disguise, but Piper

had earned it, defeating an entire flock of de-

mon chicken ladies by herself while she was

on duty. She downplayed the accomplish-

ment, but Jason could tell she felt good

about it. The feather was a reminder that she

wasn’t the same girl she’d been last winter,

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when they’d first arrived at Camp Half-

Blood.

‘The ruins are up there,’ she promised. ‘I

saw them in Katoptris’s blade. And you

heard what Hazel said. “The biggest –” ’

‘ “The biggest gathering of evil spirits I’ve

ever sensed,” ’ Jason recalled. ‘Yeah, sounds

awesome.’

After battling through the underground

temple of Hades, the last thing Jason wanted was to deal with more evil spirits. But the

fate of the quest was at stake. The crew of the

Argo II had a big decision to make. If they chose wrong, they would fail, and the entire

world would be destroyed.

Piper’s blade, Hazel’s magical senses and

Annabeth’s instincts all agreed – the answer

lay here in Ithaca, at the ancient palace of

Odysseus, where a horde of evil spirits had

gathered to await Gaia’s orders. The plan

was to sneak among them, learn what was

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going on and decide the best course of ac-

tion. Then get out, preferably alive.

Annabeth re-adjusted her golden belt. ‘I

hope our disguises hold up. The suitors were

nasty customers when they were alive. If

they find out we’re demigods –’

‘Hazel’s magic will work,’ Piper said.

Jason tried to believe that.

The suitors: a hundred of the greediest,

evilest cut-throats who’d ever lived. When

Odysseus, the Greek king of Ithaca, went

missing after the Trojan War, this mob of B-

list princes had invaded his palace and re-

fused to leave, each one hoping to marry

Queen Penelope and take over the kingdom.

Odysseus managed to return in secret and

slaughter them all – your basic happy home-

coming. But, if Piper’s visions were right, the

suitors were now back, haunting the place

where they’d died.

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Jason couldn’t believe he was about to vis-

it the actual palace of Odysseus – one of the

most famous Greek heroes of all time. Then

again, this whole quest had been one mind-

blowing event after another. Annabeth her-

self had just come back from the eternal

abyss of Tartarus. Given that, Jason decided

maybe he shouldn’t complain about being an

old man.

‘Well …’ He steadied himself with his walk-

ing stick. ‘If I look as old as I feel, my disguise must be perfect. Let’s get going.’

As they climbed, sweat trickled down his

neck. His calves ached. Despite the heat, he

began to shiver. And, try as he might, he

couldn’t stop thinking about his recent

dreams.

Ever since the House of Hades, they’d become more vivid.

Sometimes Jason stood in the under-

ground temple of Epirus, the giant Clytius

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looming over him, speaking in a chorus of

disembodied voices: It took all of you to-

gether to defeat me. What will you do when

the Earth Mother opens her eyes?

Other times Jason found himself at the

crest of Half-Blood Hill. Gaia the Earth

Mother rose from the ground – a swirling

figure of soil, leaves and stones.

Poor child. Her voice resonated across the landscape, shaking the bedrock under

Jason’s feet. Your father is first among the

gods, yet you are always second best – to

your Roman comrades, to your Greek

friends, even to your family. How will you

prove yourself?

His worst dream started in the courtyard

of the Sonoma Wolf House. Before him stood

the goddess Juno, glowing with the radiance

of molten silver.

Your life belongs to me, her voice

thundered. An appeasement from Zeus .

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Jason knew he shouldn’t look, but he

couldn’t close his eyes as Juno went super-

nova, revealing her true godly form. Pain

seared Jason’s mind. His body burned away

in layers like an onion.

Then the scene changed. Jason was still at

the Wolf House, but now he was a little boy –

no more than two years old. A woman knelt

before him, her lemony scent so familiar.

Her features were watery and indistinct, but

he knew her voice: bright and brittle, like the

thinnest layer of ice over a fast stream.

I will be back for you, dearest, she said. I will see you soon.

Every time Jason woke up from that night-

mare, his face was beaded with sweat. His

eyes stung with tears.

Nico di Angelo had warned them: the

House of Hades would stir their worst

memories, make them see things and hear

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things from the past. Their ghosts would be-

come restless.

Jason had hoped that particular ghost

would stay away, but every night the dream

got worse. Now he was climbing to the ruins

of a palace where an army of ghosts had

gathered.

That doesn’t mean she’ll be there, Jason told himself.

But his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

Every step seemed harder than the last.

‘Almost there,’ Annabeth said. ‘Let’s –’

BOOM! The hillside rumbled. Somewhere

over the ridge, a crowd roared in approval,

like spectators in a coliseum. The sound

made Jason’s skin crawl. Not so long ago,

he’d fought for his life in the Roman Colos-

seum before a cheering ghostly audience. He

wasn’t anxious to repeat the experience.

‘What was that explosion?’ he wondered.

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‘Don’t know,’ Piper said. ‘But it sounds like

they’re having fun. Let’s go make some dead

friends.’

I I

Jason

NATURALLY, the situation was worse than

Jason expected.

It wouldn’t have been any fun otherwise.

Peering through the olive bushes at the top

of the rise, he saw what looked like an out-

of-control zombie frat party.

The ruins themselves weren’t that im-

pressive: a few stone walls, a weed-choked

central courtyard, a dead-end stairwell chis-

elled into the rock. Some plywood sheets

covered a pit and a metal scaffold supported

a cracked archway.

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But superimposed over the ruins was an-

other layer of reality – a spectral mirage of

the palace as it must have appeared in its

heyday. Whitewashed stucco walls lined with

balconies rose three storeys high. Columned

porticoes faced the central atrium, which had

a huge fountain and bronze braziers. At a

dozen banquet tables, ghouls laughed and

ate and pushed one another around.

Jason had expected about a hundred spir-

its, but twice that many were milling about,

chasing spectral serving girls, smashing

plates and cups, and basically making a nuis-

ance of themselves.

Most looked like Lares from Camp Jupiter

– transparent purple wraiths in tunics and

sandals. A few revellers had decayed bodies

with grey flesh, matted clumps of hair and

nasty wounds. Others seemed to be regular

living mortals – some in togas, some in mod-

ern business suits or army fatigues. Jason

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even spotted one guy in a purple Camp

Jupiter T-shirt and Roman legionnaire

armour.

In the centre of the atrium, a grey-skinned

ghoul in a tattered Greek tunic paraded

through the crowd, holding a marble bust

over his head like a sports trophy. The other

ghosts cheered and slapped him on the back.

As the ghoul got closer, Jason noticed that he

had an arrow in his throat, the feathered

shaft sprouting from his Adam’s apple. Even

more disturbing: the bust he was holding …

was that Zeus?

It was hard to be sure. Most Greek god

statues looked similar. But the bearded,

glowering face reminded Jason very much of

the giant Hippie Zeus in Cabin One at Camp

Half-Blood.

‘Our next offering!’ the ghoul shouted, his

voice buzzing from the arrow in his throat.

‘Let us feed the Earth Mother!’

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The partiers yelled and pounded their

cups. The ghoul made his way to the central

fountain. The crowd parted, and Jason real-

ized the fountain wasn’t filled with water.

From the three-foot-tall pedestal, a geyser of

sand spewed upward, arcing into an

umbrella-shaped curtain of white particles

before spilling into the circular basin.

The ghoul heaved the marble bust into the

fountain. As soon as Zeus’s head passed

through the shower of sand, the marble dis-

integrated like it was going through a wood

chipper. The sand glittered gold, the colour

of ichor – godly blood. Then the entire

mountain rumbled with a muffled BOOM, as

if belching after a meal.

The dead partygoers roared with approval.

‘Any more statues?’ the ghoul shouted to

the crowd. ‘No? Then I guess we’ll have to

wait for some real gods to sacrifice!’

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His comrades laughed and applauded as

the ghoul plopped himself down at the

nearest feast table.

Jason clenched his walking stick. ‘That guy

just disintegrated my dad. Who does he

think he is?’

‘I’m guessing that’s Antinous,’ said Anna-

beth, ‘one of the suitors’ leaders. If I remem-

ber right, it was Odysseus who shot him

through the neck with that arrow.’

Piper winced. ‘You’d think that would keep

a guy down. What about all the others? Why

are there so many?’

‘I don’t know,’ Annabeth said. ‘Newer re-

cruits for Gaia, I guess. Some must’ve come

back to life before we closed the Doors of

Death. Some are just spirits.’

‘Some are ghouls,’ Jason said. ‘The ones

with the gaping wounds and the grey skin,

like Antinous … I’ve fought their kind

before.’

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Piper tugged at her blue harpy feather.

‘Can they be killed?’

Jason remembered a quest he’d taken for

Camp Jupiter years ago in San Bernardino.

‘Not easily. They’re strong and fast and intel-

ligent. Also, they eat human flesh.’

‘Fantastic,’ Annabeth muttered. ‘I don’t

see any option except to stick to the plan.

Split up, infiltrate, find out why they’re here.

If things go bad –’

‘We use the backup plan,’ Piper said.

Jason hated the backup plan.

Before they left the ship, Leo had given

each of them an emergency flare the size of a

birthday candle. Supposedly, if they tossed

one in the air, it would shoot upward in a

streak of white phosphorus, alerting the

Argo II that the team was in trouble. At that point, Jason and the girls would have a few

seconds to take cover before the ship’s cata-

pults fired on their position, engulfing the

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palace in Greek fire and bursts of Celestial

bronze shrapnel.

Not the safest plan, but at least Jason had

the satisfaction of knowing that he could call

an air strike on this noisy mob of dead guys if

the situation got dicey. Of course, that was

assuming he and his friends could get away.

And assuming Leo’s doomsday candles

didn’t go off by accident – Leo’s inventions

sometimes did that – in which case the

weather would get much hotter, with a

ninety percent chance of fiery apocalypse.

‘Be careful down there,’ he told Piper and

Annabeth.

Piper crept around the left side of the

ridge. Annabeth went right. Jason pulled

himself up with his walking stick and

hobbled towards the ruins.

He flashed back to the last time he’d plunged

into a mob of evil spirits, in the House of

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Hades. If it hadn’t been for Frank Zhang and

Nico di Angelo …

Gods … Nico.

Over the past few days, every time Jason

sacrificed a portion of a meal to Jupiter, he

prayed to his dad to help Nico. That kid had

gone through so much, and yet he had volun-

teered for the most difficult job: transporting

the Athena Parthenos statue to Camp Half-Blood. If he didn’t succeed, the Roman and

Greek demigods would slaughter each other.

Then, no matter what happened in Greece,

the Argo II would have no home to return to.

Jason passed through the palace’s ghostly

gateway. He realized just in time that a sec-

tion of mosaic floor in front of him was an il-

lusion covering a ten-foot-deep excavation

pit. He sidestepped it and continued into the

courtyard.

The two levels of reality reminded him of

the Titan stronghold on Mount Othrys – a

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disorienting maze of black marble walls that

randomly melted into shadow and solidified

again. At least during that fight Jason had

had a hundred legionnaires at his side. Now

all he had was an old man’s body, a stick and

two friends in slinky dresses.

Forty feet ahead of him, Piper moved

through the crowd, smiling and filling wine-

glasses for the ghostly revellers. If she was

afraid, she didn’t show it. So far the ghosts

weren’t paying her any special attention.

Hazel’s magic must have been working.

Over on the right, Annabeth collected

empty plates and goblets. She wasn’t smiling.

Jason remembered the talk he’d had with

Percy before leaving the ship.

Percy had stayed aboard to watch for

threats from the sea, but he hadn’t liked the

idea of Annabeth going on this expedition

without him – especially since it would be

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the first time they were apart since returning

from Tartarus.

He’d pulled Jason aside. ‘Hey, man … An-

nabeth would kill me if I suggested she

needed anybody to protect her.’

Jason laughed. ‘Yeah, she would.’

‘But look out for her, okay?’

Jason squeezed his friend’s shoulder. ‘I’ll

make sure she gets back to you safely.’

Now Jason wondered if he could keep that

promise.

He reached the edge of the crowd.

A raspy voice cried, ‘IROS!’

Antinous, the ghoul with the arrow in his

throat, was staring right at him. ‘Is that you,

you old beggar?’

Hazel’s magic did its work. Cold air

rippled across Jason’s face as the Mist subtly

altered his appearance, showing the suitors

what they expected to see.

‘That’s me!’ Jason said. ‘Iros!’

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A dozen more ghosts turned towards him.

Some scowled and gripped the hilts of their

glowing purple swords. Too late, Jason

wondered if Iros was an enemy of theirs, but

he’d already committed to the part.

He hobbled forward, putting on his best

cranky old man expression. ‘Guess I’m late to

the party. I hope you saved me some food?’

One of the ghosts sneered in disgust. ‘Un-

grateful old panhandler. Should I kill him,

Antinous?’

Jason’s neck muscles tightened.

Antinous regarded him for three counts,

then chuckled. ‘I’m in a good mood today.

Come, Iros, join me at my table.’

Jason didn’t have much choice. He sat

across from Antinous while more ghosts

crowded around, leering as if they expected

to see a particularly vicious arm-wrestling

contest.

42/982

Up close, Antinous’s eyes were solid yel-

low. His lips stretched paper-thin over

wolfish teeth. At first, Jason thought the

ghoul’s curly dark hair was disintegrating.

Then he realized a steady stream of dirt was

trickling from Antinous’s scalp, spilling over

his shoulders. Clods of mud filled the old

sword gashes in the ghoul’s grey skin. More

dirt spilled from the base of the arrow wound

in his throat.

The power of Gaia, Jason thought. The

earth is holding this guy together.

Antinous slid a golden goblet and a platter

of food across the table. ‘I didn’t expect to

see you here, Iros. But I suppose even a beg-

gar can sue for retribution. Drink. Eat.’

Thick red liquid sloshed in the goblet. On

the plate sat a steaming brown lump of mys-

tery meat.

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Jason’s stomach rebelled. Even if ghoul

food didn’t kill him, his vegetarian girlfriend

probably wouldn’t kiss him for a month.

He recalled what Notus the South Wind

had told him: A wind that blows aimlessly is

no good to anyone.

Jason’s entire career at Camp Jupiter had

been built on careful choices. He mediated

between demigods, listened to all sides of an

argument, found compromises. Even when

he chafed against Roman traditions, he

thought before he acted. He wasn’t

impulsive.

Notus had warned him that such hesita-

tion would kill him. Jason had to stop delib-

erating and take what he wanted.

If he was an ungrateful beggar, he had to

act like one.

He ripped off a chunk of meat with his fin-

gers and stuffed it in his mouth. He guzzled

some red liquid, which thankfully tasted like

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watered-down wine, not blood or poison.

Jason fought the urge to gag, but he didn’t

keel over or explode.

‘Yum!’ He wiped his mouth. ‘Now tell me

about this … what did you call it? Retribu-

tion? Where do I sign up?’

The ghosts laughed. One pushed his

shoulder and Jason was alarmed that he

could actually feel it.

At Camp Jupiter, Lares had no physical

substance. Apparently these spirits did –

which meant more enemies who could beat,

stab or decapitate him.

Antinous leaned forward. ‘Tell me, Iros,

what do you have to offer? We don’t need

you to run messages for us like in the old

days. Certainly you aren’t a fighter. As I re-

call, Odysseus crushed your jaw and tossed

you into the pigsty.’

Jason’s neurons fired. Iros … the old man

who’d run messages for the suitors in

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exchange for scraps of food. Iros had been

sort of like their pet homeless person. When

Odysseus came home, disguised as a beggar,

Iros thought the new guy was moving in on

his territory. The two had started arguing …

‘You made Iros –’ Jason hesitated. ‘You

made me fight Odysseus. You bet money on

it. Even when Odysseus took off his shirt and

you saw how muscular he was … you still

made me fight him. You didn’t care if I lived

or died!’

Antinous bared his pointed teeth. ‘Of

course I didn’t care. I still don’t! But you’re

here, so Gaia must have had a reason to al-

low you back into the mortal world. Tell me,

why are you worthy of a share in our spoils?’

‘What spoils?’

Antinous spread his hands. ‘The entire

world, my friend. The first time we met here,

we were only after Odysseus’s land, his

money and his wife.’

46/982

‘Especially his wife!’ A bald ghost in ragged

clothes elbowed Jason in the ribs. ‘That

Penelope was a hot little honey cake!’

Jason caught a glimpse of Piper serving

drinks at the next table. She discreetly put

her finger to her mouth in a gag me gesture, then went back to flirting with dead guys.

Antinous sneered. ‘Eurymachus, you whining coward. You never stood a chance

with Penelope. I remember you blubbering

and pleading for your life with Odysseus,

blaming everything on me!’

‘Lot of good it did me.’ Eurymachus lifted

his tattered shirt, revealing an inch-wide

hole in the middle of his spectral chest.

‘Odysseus shot me in the heart, just because

I wanted to marry his wife!’

‘At any rate …’ Antinous turned to Jason.

‘We have gathered now for a much bigger

prize. Once Gaia destroys the gods, we will

divide up the remnants of the mortal world!’

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‘Dibs on London!’ yelled a ghoul at the

next table.

‘Montreal!’ shouted another.

‘Duluth!’ yelled a third, which momentar-

ily stopped the conversation as the other

ghosts gave him confused looks.

The meat and wine turned to lead in

Jason’s stomach. ‘What about the rest of

these … guests? I count at least two hundred.

Half of them are new to me.’

Antinous’s yellow eyes gleamed. ‘All of

them are suitors for Gaia’s favour. All have

claims and grievances against the gods or

their pet heroes. That scoundrel over there is

Hippias, former tyrant of Athens. He got de-

posed and sided with the Persians to attack

his own countrymen. No morals whatsoever.

He’d do anything for power.’

‘Thank you!’ called Hippias.

‘That rogue with the turkey leg in his

mouth,’ Antinous continued, ‘that’s

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Hasdrubal of Carthage. He has a grudge to

settle with Rome.’

‘Mhhmm,’ said the Carthaginian.

‘And Michael Varus –’

Jason choked. ‘ Who? ’

Over by the sand fountain, the dark-haired

guy in the purple T-shirt and legionnaire ar-

mour turned to face them. His outline was

blurred, smoky and indistinct, so Jason

guessed he was some form of spirit, but the

legion tattoo on his forearm was clear

enough: the letters SPQR, the double-faced

head of the god Janus and six score marks for years of service. On his breastplate hung

the badge of praetorship and the emblem of

the Fifth Cohort.

Jason had never met Michael Varus. The

infamous praetor had died in the 1980s. Still, Jason’s skin crawled when he met Varus’s

gaze. Those sunken eyes seemed to bore

right through Jason’s disguise.

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Antinous waved dismissively. ‘He’s a Ro-

man demigod. Lost his legion’s eagle in …

Alaska, was it? Doesn’t matter. Gaia lets him

hang around. He insists he has some insight

into defeating Camp Jupiter. But you, Iros –

you still haven’t answered my question. Why

should you be welcome among us?’

Varus’s dead eyes had unnerved Jason. He

could feel the Mist thinning around him, re-

acting to his uncertainty.

Suddenly Annabeth appeared at Antin-

ous’s shoulder. ‘More wine, my lord? Oops!’

She spilled the contents of a silver pitcher

down the back of Antinous’s neck.

‘Gahh!’ The ghoul arched his spine. ‘Fool-

ish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?’

‘A Titan, my lord.’ Annabeth dipped her

head apologetically. ‘May I bring you some

moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping.’

‘Begone!’

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Annabeth caught Jason’s eye – a silent

message of support – then she disappeared

in the crowd.

The ghoul wiped himself off, giving Jason

a chance to collect his thoughts.

He was Iros … former messenger of the

suitors. Why would he be here? Why should

they accept him?

He picked up the nearest steak knife and

stabbed it into the table, making the ghosts

around him jump.

‘Why should you welcome me?’ Jason

growled. ‘Because I’m still running messages,

you stupid wretches! I’ve just come from the

House of Hades to see what you’re up to!’

That last part was true, and it seemed to

give Antinous pause. The ghoul glared at

him, wine still dripping from the arrow shaft

in his throat. ‘You expect me to believe Gaia

sent you – a beggar – to check up on us?’

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Jason laughed. ‘I was among the last to

leave Epirus before the Doors of Death were

closed! I saw the chamber where Clytius

stood guard under a domed ceiling tiled with

tombstones. I walked the jewel-and-bone

floors of the Necromanteion!’

That was also true. Around the table,

ghosts shifted and muttered.

‘So, Antinous …’ Jason jabbed a finger at

the ghoul. ‘Maybe you should explain to me why you’re worthy of Gaia’s favour. All I see is a crowd of lazy, dawdling dead folk enjoying themselves and not helping the war ef-

fort. What should I tell the Earth Mother?’

From the corner of his eye, Jason saw

Piper flash him an approving smile. Then she

returned her attention to a glowing purple

Greek dude who was trying to make her sit

on his lap.

Antinous wrapped his hand around the

steak knife Jason had impaled in the table.

52/982

He pulled it free and studied the blade. ‘If

you come from Gaia, you must know we are

here under orders. Porphyrion decreed it.’

Antinous ran the knife blade across his palm.

Instead of blood, dry dirt spilled from the

cut. ‘You do know Porphyrion … ?’

Jason struggled to keep his nausea under

control. He remembered Porphyrion just

fine from their battle at the Wolf House. ‘The

giant king – green skin, forty feet tall, white

eyes, hair braided with weapons. Of course I

know him. He’s a lot more impressive than

you.’

He decided not to mention that the last

time he’d seen the giant king, Jason had

blasted him in the head with lightning.

For once, Antinous looked speechless, but

his bald ghost friend Eurymachus put an arm

around Jason’s shoulders.

‘Now, now, friend!’ Eurymachus smelled

like sour wine and burning electrical wires.

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His ghostly touch made Jason’s ribcage

tingle. ‘I’m sure we didn’t mean to question

your credentials! It’s just, well, if you’ve

spoken with Porphyrion in Athens, you know

why we’re here. I assure you, we’re doing ex-

actly as he ordered!’

Jason tried to mask his surprise.

Porphyrion in Athens.

Gaia had promised to pull up the gods by

their roots. Chiron, Jason’s mentor at Camp

Half-Blood, had assumed that meant that the

giants would try to rouse the earth goddess

at the original Mount Olympus. But now …

‘The Acropolis,’ Jason said. ‘The most ancient temples to the gods, in the middle of

Athens. That’s where Gaia will wake.’

‘Of course!’ Eurymachus laughed. The

wound in his chest made a popping sound,

like a porpoise’s blowhole. ‘And, to get there,

those meddlesome demigods will have to

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travel by sea, eh? They know it’s too danger-

ous to fly over land.’

‘Which means they’ll have to pass this is-

land,’ Jason said.

Eurymachus nodded eagerly. He removed

his arm from Jason’s shoulders and dipped

his finger in his wineglass. ‘At that point,

they’ll have to make a choice, eh?’

On the tabletop, he traced a coastline, red

wine glowing unnaturally against the wood.

He drew Greece like a mis-shapen hourglass

– a large dangly blob for the northern main-

land, then another blob below it, almost as

large – the big chunk of land known as the

Peloponnese. Cutting between them was a narrow line of sea – the Straits of Corinth.

Jason hardly needed a picture. He and the

rest of the crew had spent the last day at sea

studying maps.

‘The most direct route,’ Eurymachus said,

‘would be due east from here, across the

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Straits of Corinth. But if they try to go that

way –’

‘Enough,’ Antinous snapped. ‘You have a

loose tongue, Eurymachus.’

The ghost looked offended. ‘I wasn’t going

to tell him everything! Just about the Cyc-

lopes armies massed on either shore. And

the raging storm spirits in the air. And those

vicious sea monsters Keto sent to infest the waters. And of course if the ship got as far as

Delphi –’

‘Idiot!’ Antinous lunged across the table

and grabbed the ghost’s wrist. A thin crust of

dirt spread from the ghoul’s hand, straight

up Eurymachus’s spectral arm.

‘No!’ Eurymachus yelped. ‘Please! I – I

only meant –’

The ghost screamed as the dirt covered his

body like a shell, then cracked apart, leaving

nothing but a pile of dust. Eurymachus was

gone.

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Antinous sat back and brushed off his

hands. The other suitors at the table watched

him in wary silence.

‘Apologies, Iros.’ The ghoul smiled coldly.

‘All you need to know is this – the ways to

Athens are well guarded, just as we prom-

ised. The demigods would either have to risk

the straits, which are impossible, or sail

around the entire Peloponnese, which is

hardly much safer. In any event, it’s unlikely

they will survive long enough to make that choice. Once they reach Ithaca, we will know.

We will stop them here and Gaia will see how

valuable we are. You can take that message

back to Athens.’

Jason’s heart hammered against his

sternum. He’d never seen anything like the

shell of earth that Antinous had summoned

to destroy Eurymachus. He didn’t want to

find out if that power worked on demigods.

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Also, Antinous sounded confident that he

could detect the Argo II. Hazel’s magic

seemed to be obscuring the ship so far, but

there was no telling how long that would last.

Jason had the intel they’d come for. Their

goal was Athens. The safer route, or at least

the not impossible route, was around the

southern coast. Today was 20 July. They

only had twelve days before Gaia planned to

wake, on 1 August, the ancient Feast of

Hope.

Jason and his friends needed to leave

while they had the chance.

But something else bothered him – a cold

sense of foreboding, as if he hadn’t heard the

worst news yet.

Eurymachus had mentioned Delphi. Jason had secretly hoped to visit the ancient site of

Apollo’s Oracle, maybe get some insight into

his personal future, but if the place had been

overrun by monsters …

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He pushed aside his plate of cold food.

‘Sounds like everything is under control. For

your sake, Antinous, I hope so. These demi-

gods are resourceful. They closed the Doors

of Death. We wouldn’t want them sneaking

past you, perhaps getting help from Delphi.’

Antinous chuckled. ‘No risk of that. Delphi

is no longer in Apollo’s control.’

‘I – I see. And if the demigods sail the long

way around the Peloponnese?’

‘You worry too much. That journey is nev-

er safe for demigods, and it’s much too far.

Besides, Victory runs rampant in Olympia.

As long as that’s the case, there is no way the

demigods can win this war.’

Jason didn’t understand what that meant

either, but he nodded. ‘Very well. I will re-

port as much to King Porphyrion. Thank you

for the, er, meal.’

Over at the fountain, Michael Varus called,

‘Wait.’

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Jason bit back a curse. He’d been trying to

ignore the dead praetor, but now Varus

walked over, surrounded in a hazy white

aura, his deep-set eyes like sinkholes. At his

side hung an Imperial gold gladius.

‘You must stay,’ Varus said.

Antinous shot the ghost an irritated look.

‘What’s the problem, legionnaire? If Iros

wants to leave, let him. He smells bad!’

The other ghosts laughed nervously.

Across the courtyard, Piper shot Jason a

worried glance. A little further away, Anna-

beth casually palmed a carving knife from

the nearest platter of meat.

Varus rested his hand on the pommel of

his sword. Despite the heat, his breastplate

was glazed with ice. ‘I lost my cohort twice in Alaska – once in life, once in death to a

Graecus named Percy Jackson. Still I have

come here to answer Gaia’s call. Do you

know why?’

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Jason swallowed. ‘Stubbornness?’

‘This is a place of longing,’ Varus said. ‘All

of us are drawn here, sustained not only by

Gaia’s power but also by our strongest de-

sires. Eurymachus’s greed. Antinous’s

cruelty.’

‘You flatter me,’ the ghoul muttered.

‘Hasdrubal’s hatred,’ Varus continued.

‘Hippias’s bitterness. My ambition. And you,

Iros. What has drawn you here? What does a

beggar most desire? Perhaps a home?’

An uncomfortable tingle started at the

base of Jason’s skull – the same feeling he

got when a huge electrical storm was about

to break.

‘I should be going,’ he said. ‘Messages to

carry.’

Michael Varus drew his sword. ‘My father

is Janus, the god of two faces. I am used to

seeing through masks and deceptions. Do

you know, Iros, why we are so sure the

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demigods will not pass our island

undetected?’

Jason silently ran through his repertoire of

Latin cuss words. He tried to calculate how

long it would take him to get out his emer-

gency flare and fire it. Hopefully he could

buy enough time for the girls to find shelter

before this mob of dead guys slaughtered

him.

He turned to Antinous. ‘Look, are you in

charge here or not? Maybe you should

muzzle your Roman.’

The ghoul took a deep breath. The arrow

rattled in his throat. ‘Ah, but this might be

entertaining. Go on, Varus.’

The dead praetor raised his sword. ‘Our

desires reveal us. They show us for who we

really are. Someone has come for you, Jason

Grace.’

Behind Varus, the crowd parted. The

shimmering ghost of a woman drifted

62/982

forward, and Jason felt as if his bones were

turning to dust.

‘My dearest,’ said his mother’s ghost. ‘You

have come home.’

I I I

Jason

SOMEHOW HE KNEW HER. He recognized her

dress – a flowery green-and-red wrap-

around, like the skirt of a Christmas tree. He

recognized the colourful plastic bangles on

her wrists that had dug into his back when

she hugged him goodbye at the Wolf House.

He recognized her hair, an over-teased

corona of dyed blonde curls and her scent of

lemons and aerosol.

Her eyes were blue like Jason’s, but they

gleamed with fractured light, like she’d just

come out of a bunker after a nuclear war –

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hungrily searching for familiar details in a

changed world.

‘Dearest.’ She held out her arms.

Jason’s vision tunnelled. The ghosts and

ghouls no longer mattered.

His Mist disguise burned off. His posture

straightened. His joints stopped aching. His

walking stick turned back into an Imperial

gold gladius.

The burning sensation didn’t stop. He felt

as if layers of his life were being seared away

– his months at Camp Half-Blood, his years

at Camp Jupiter, his training with Lupa the wolf goddess. He was a scared and

vulnerable two-year-old again. Even the scar

on his lip, from when he’d tried to eat a

stapler as a toddler, stung like a fresh

wound.

‘Mom?’ he managed.

‘Yes, dearest.’ Her image flickered. ‘Come,

embrace me.’

66/982

‘You’re – you’re not real.’

‘Of course she is real.’ Michael Varus’s

voice sounded far away. ‘Did you think Gaia

would let such an important spirit languish

in the Underworld? She is your mother,

Beryl Grace, star of television, sweetheart to

the king of Olympus, who rejected her not

once but twice, in both his Greek and Roman

aspects. She deserves justice as much as any

of us.’

Jason’s heart felt wobbly. The suitors

crowded around him, watching.

I’m their entertainment, Jason realized.

The ghosts probably found this even more

amusing than two beggars fighting to the

death.

Piper’s voice cut through the buzzing in his

head. ‘Jason, look at me.’

She stood twenty feet away, holding her

ceramic amphora. Her smile was gone. Her

gaze was fierce and commanding – as

67/982

impossible to ignore as the blue harpy feath-

er in her hair. ‘That isn’t your mother. Her

voice is working some kind of magic on you

– like charmspeak, but more dangerous.

Can’t you sense it?’

‘She’s right.’ Annabeth climbed onto the

nearest table. She kicked aside a platter,

startling a dozen suitors. ‘Jason, that’s only a

remnant of your mother, like an ara, maybe, or –’

‘A remnant!’ His mother’s ghost sobbed.

‘Yes, look what I have been reduced to. It’s

Jupiter’s fault. He abandoned us. He

wouldn’t help me! I didn’t want to leave you

in Sonoma, my dear, but Juno and Jupiter

gave me no choice. They wouldn’t allow us to

stay together. Why fight for them now? Join

these suitors. Lead them. We can be a family

again!’

Jason felt hundreds of eyes on him.

68/982

This has been the story of my life, he

thought bitterly. Everyone had always

watched him, expecting him to lead the way.

From the moment he’d arrived at Camp

Jupiter, the Roman demigods had treated

him like a prince in waiting. Despite his at-

tempts to alter his destiny – joining the

worst cohort, trying to change the camp tra-

ditions, taking the least glamorous missions

and befriending the least popular kids – he

had been made praetor anyway. As a son of

Jupiter, his future had been assured.

He remembered what Hercules had said to

him at the Straits of Gibraltar: It’s not easy

being a son of Zeus. Too much pressure.

Eventually, it can make a guy snap.

Now Jason was here, drawn as taut as a

bowstring.

‘You left me,’ he told his mother. ‘That

wasn’t Jupiter or Juno. That was you.’

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Beryl Grace stepped forward. The worry

lines around her eyes, the pained tightness in

her mouth reminded Jason of his sister,

Thalia.

‘Dearest, I told you I would come back.

Those were my last words to you. Don’t you

remember?’

Jason shivered. In the ruins of the Wolf

House his mother had hugged him one last

time. She had smiled, but her eyes were full

of tears.

It’s all right, she had promised. But even

as a little kid Jason had known it wasn’t all

right. Wait here. I will be back for you,

dearest. I will see you soon.

She hadn’t come back. Instead, Jason had

wandered the ruins, crying and alone, calling

for his mother and for Thalia – until the

wolves came for him.

His mother’s unkept promise was at the

core of who he was. He’d built his whole life

70/982

around the irritation of her words, like the

grain of sand at the centre of a pearl.

People lie. Promises are broken.

That was why, as much as it chafed him,

Jason followed rules. He kept his promises.

He never wanted to abandon anyone the way

he’d been abandoned and lied to.

Now his mom was back, erasing the one

certainty Jason had about her – that she’d

left him forever.

Across the table, Antinous raised his gob-

let. ‘So pleased to meet you, son of Jupiter.

Listen to your mother. You have many griev-

ances against the gods. Why not join us? I

gather these two serving girls are your

friends? We will spare them. You wish to

have your mother remain in the world? We

can do that. You wish to be a king –’

‘No.’ Jason’s mind was spinning. ‘No, I

don’t belong with you.’

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Michael Varus regarded him with cold

eyes. ‘Are you so sure, my fellow praetor?

Even if you defeat the giants and Gaia, would

you return home like Odysseus did? Where is

your home now? With the Greeks? With the

Romans? No one will accept you. And, if you get back, who’s to say you won’t find ruins

like this?’

Jason scanned the palace courtyard.

Without the illusory balconies and colon-

nades, there was nothing but a heap of

rubble on a barren hilltop. Only the fountain

seemed real, spewing forth sand like a re-

minder of Gaia’s limitless power.

‘You were a legion officer,’ he told Varus.

‘A leader of Rome.’

‘So were you,’ Varus said. ‘Loyalties

change.’

‘You think I belong with this crowd?’ Jason asked. ‘A bunch of dead losers waiting for a

72/982

free handout from Gaia, whining that the

world owes them something?’

Around the courtyard, ghosts and ghouls

rose to their feet and drew weapons.

‘Beware!’ Piper yelled at the crowd. ‘Every

man in this palace is your enemy. Each one

will stab you in the back at the first chance!’

Over the last few weeks, Piper’s charm-

speak had become truly powerful. She spoke

the truth, and the crowd believed her. They

looked sideways at one another, hands

clenching the hilts of their swords.

Jason’s mother stepped towards him.

‘Dearest, be sensible. Give up your quest.

Your Argo II could never make the trip to

Athens. Even if it did, there’s the matter of

the Athena Parthenos.’

A tremor passed through him. ‘What do

you mean?’

‘Don’t feign ignorance, my dearest. Gaia

knows about your friend Reyna and Nico the

73/982

son of Hades and the satyr Hedge. To kill

them, the Earth Mother has sent her most

dangerous son – the hunter who never rests.

But you don’t have to die.’

The ghouls and ghosts closed in – two

hundred of them facing Jason in anticipa-

tion, as if he might lead them in the national

anthem.

The hunter who never rests.

Jason didn’t know who that was, but he

had to warn Reyna and Nico.

Which meant he had to get out of here

alive.

He looked at Annabeth and Piper. Both

stood ready, waiting for his cue.

He forced himself to meet his mother’s

eyes. She looked like the same woman who’d

abandoned him in the Sonoma woods four-

teen years ago. But Jason wasn’t a toddler

any more. He was a battle veteran, a demi-

god who’d faced death countless times.

74/982

And what he saw in front of him wasn’t his

mother – at least, not what his mother

should be – caring, loving, selflessly

protective.

A remnant, Annabeth had called her.

Michael Varus had told him that the spirits

here were sustained by their strongest de-

sires. The spirit of Beryl Grace literally

glowed with need. Her eyes demanded

Jason’s attention. Her arms reached out,

desperate to possess him.

‘What do you want?’ he asked. ‘What

brought you here?’

‘I want life!’ she cried. ‘Youth! Beauty!

Your father could have made me immortal.

He could have taken me to Olympus, but he

abandoned me. You can set things right,

Jason. You are my proud warrior!’

Her lemony scent turned acrid, as if she

were starting to burn.

75/982

Jason remembered something Thalia had

told him. Their mother had become increas-

ingly unstable, until her despair had driven

her crazy. She had died in a car accident, the

result of her driving while drunk.

The watered wine in Jason’s stomach

churned. He decided that if he lived through

this day he would never drink alcohol again.

‘You’re a mania,’ Jason decided, the word

coming to him from his studies at Camp

Jupiter long ago. ‘A spirit of insanity. That’s

what you’ve been reduced to.’

‘I am all that remains,’ Beryl Grace agreed.

Her image flickered through a spectrum of

colours. ‘Embrace me, son. I am all you have

left.’

The memory of the South Wind spoke in

his mind: You can’t choose your parentage.

But you can choose your legacy.

Jason felt like he was being reassembled,

one layer at a time. His heartbeat steadied.

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The chill left his bones. His skin warmed in

the afternoon sun.

‘No,’ he croaked. He glanced at Annabeth

and Piper. ‘My loyalties haven’t changed. My

family has just expanded. I’m a child of

Greece and Rome.’ He looked back at his

mother for the last time. ‘I’m no child of

yours.’

He made the ancient sign of warding off

evil – three fingers thrust out from the heart

– and the ghost of Beryl Grace disappeared

with a soft hiss, like a sigh of relief.

The ghoul Antinous tossed aside his gob-

let. He studied Jason with a look of lazy dis-

gust. ‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘I suppose we’ll

just kill you.’

All around Jason, the enemies closed in.

I V

Jason

THE FIGHT WAS GOING GREAT – until he got

stabbed.

Jason slashed his gladius in a wide arc, vaporizing the nearest suitors, then he vaulted

onto the table and jumped right over Antin-

ous’s head. In midair he willed his blade to

extend into a javelin – a trick he’d never

tried with this sword – but somehow he

knew it would work.

He landed on his feet holding a six-foot-

long pilum. As Antinous turned to face him, Jason thrust the Imperial gold point through

the ghoul’s chest.

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Antinous looked down incredulously. ‘You

–’

‘Enjoy the Fields of Punishment.’ Jason

yanked out his pilum and Antinous crumbled to dirt.

Jason kept fighting, spinning his javelin –

slicing through ghosts, knocking ghouls off

their feet.

Across the courtyard, Annabeth fought like

a demon, too. Her drakon-bone sword scythed down any suitors stupid enough to

face her.

Over by the sand fountain, Piper had also

drawn her sword – the jagged bronze blade

she’d taken from Zethes the Boread. She

stabbed and parried with her right hand, oc-

casionally shooting tomatoes from the cor-

nucopia in her left, while yelling at the suit-

ors, ‘Save yourselves! I’m too dangerous!’

That must have been exactly what they

wanted to hear, because her opponents kept

80/982

running away, only to freeze in confusion a

few yards downhill, then charge back into

the fight.

The Greek tyrant Hippias lunged at Piper,

his dagger raised, but Piper blasted him

point-blank in the chest with a lovely pot

roast. He tumbled backwards into the foun-

tain and screamed as he disintegrated.

An arrow whistled towards Jason’s face.

He blew it aside with a gust of wind, then cut

through a line of sword-wielding ghouls and

noticed a dozen suitors regrouping by the

fountain to charge Annabeth. He lifted his

javelin to the sky. A bolt of lightning rico-

cheted off the point and blasted the ghosts to

ions, leaving a smoking crater where the

sand fountain had been.

Over the last few months, Jason had

fought many battles, but he’d forgotten what

it was like to feel good in combat. Of course he was still afraid, but a huge weight had

81/982

been lifted from his shoulders. For the first

time since waking up in Arizona with his

memories erased, Jason felt whole. He knew who he was. He had chosen his family, and it

had nothing to do with Beryl Grace or even

Jupiter. His family included all the demigods

who fought at his side, Roman and Greek,

new friends and old. He wasn’t going to let

anyone break his family apart.

He summoned the winds and flung three

ghouls off the side of the hill like rag dolls.

He skewered a fourth, then willed his javelin

to shrink back to a sword and hacked

through another group of spirits.

Soon no more enemies faced him. The re-

maining ghosts began to disappear on their

own. Annabeth cut down Hasdrubal the

Carthaginian, and Jason made the mistake of

sheathing his sword.

82/982

Pain flared in his lower back – so sharp

and cold he thought Khione the snow goddess had touched him.

Next to his ear, Michael Varus snarled,

‘Born a Roman, die a Roman.’

The tip of a golden sword jutted through

the front of Jason’s shirt, just below his

ribcage.

Jason fell to his knees. Piper’s scream

sounded miles away. He felt like he’d been

immersed in salty water – his body weight-

less, his head swaying.

Piper charged towards him. He watched

with detached emotion as her sword passed

over his head and cut through Michael

Varus’s armour with a metallic ka-chunk.

A burst of cold parted Jason’s hair from

behind. Dust settled around him, and an

empty legionnaire’s helmet rolled across the

stones. The evil demigod was gone – but he

had made a lasting impression.

83/982

‘Jason!’ Piper grabbed his shoulders as he

began to fall sideways. He gasped as she

pulled the sword out of his back. Then she

lowered him to the ground, propping his

head against a stone.

Annabeth ran to their side. She had a

nasty cut on the side of her neck.

‘Gods.’ Annabeth stared at the wound in

Jason’s gut. ‘Oh, gods.’

‘Thanks,’ Jason groaned. ‘I was afraid it

might be bad.’

His arms and legs started to tingle as his

body went into crisis mode, sending all the

blood to his chest. The pain was dull, which

surprised him, but his shirt was soaked red.

The wound was smoking. He was pretty sure

sword wounds weren’t supposed to smoke.

‘You’re going to be fine.’ Piper spoke the

words like an order. Her tone steadied his

breathing. ‘Annabeth, ambrosia!’

84/982

Annabeth stirred. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I got it.’ She

ripped through her supply pouch and un-

wrapped a piece of godly food.

‘We have to stop the bleeding.’ Piper used

her dagger to cut fabric from the bottom of

her dress. She ripped the cloth into

bandages.

Jason dimly wondered how she knew so

much first aid. She wrapped the wounds on

his back and stomach while Annabeth

pushed tiny bites of ambrosia into his

mouth.

Annabeth’s fingers trembled. After all the

things she’d been through, Jason found it

odd that she would freak out now while Piper

acted so calm. Then it occurred to him – An-

nabeth could afford to be scared for him.

Piper couldn’t. She was completely focused

on trying to save him.

85/982

Annabeth fed him another bite. ‘Jason, I –

I’m sorry. About your mom. But the way you

handled it … that was so brave.’

Jason tried not to close his eyes. Every

time he did, he saw his mom’s spirit

disintegrating.

‘It wasn’t her,’ he said. ‘At least, no part of

her I could save. There was no other choice.’

Annabeth took a shaky breath. ‘No other

right choice, maybe, but … a friend of mine, Luke. His mom … similar problem. He didn’t

handle it as well.’

Her voice broke. Jason didn’t know much

about Annabeth’s past, but Piper glanced

over in concern.

‘I’ve bandaged as much as I can,’ she said.

‘Blood is still soaking through. And the

smoke. I don’t get that.’

‘Imperial gold,’ Annabeth said, her voice

quavering. ‘It’s deadly to demigods. It’s only

a matter of time before –’

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‘He’ll be all right,’ Piper insisted. ‘We’ve

got to get him back to the ship.’

‘I don’t feel that bad,’ Jason said. And it

was true. The ambrosia had cleared his head.

Warmth was seeping back into his limbs.

‘Maybe I could fly …’

Jason sat up. His vision turned a pale

shade of green. ‘Or maybe not …’

Piper caught his shoulders as he keeled

sideways. ‘Whoa, Sparky. We need to contact

the Argo II, get help.’

‘You haven’t called me Sparky in a long

time.’

Piper kissed his forehead. ‘Stick with me

and I’ll insult you all you want.’

Annabeth scanned the ruins. The magic

veneer had faded, leaving only broken walls

and excavation pits. ‘We could use the emer-

gency flares, but –’

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‘No,’ Jason said. ‘Leo would blast the top

of the hill with Greek fire. Maybe, if you guys

helped me, I could walk –’

‘Absolutely not,’ Piper objected. ‘That

would take too long.’ She rummaged in her

belt pouch and pulled out a compact mirror.

‘Annabeth, you know Morse code?’

‘Of course.’

‘So does Leo.’ Piper handed her the mirror.

‘He’ll be watching from the ship. Go to the

ridge –’

‘And flash him!’ Annabeth’s face reddened.

‘That came out wrong. But, yeah, good idea.’

She ran to the edge of the ruins.

Piper pulled out a flask of nectar and gave

Jason a sip. ‘Hang in there. You are not dying from a stupid body piercing.’

Jason managed a weak smile. ‘At least it

wasn’t a head injury this time. I stayed con-

scious the entire fight.’

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‘You defeated, like, two hundred enemies,’

Piper said. ‘You were scary amazing.’

‘You guys helped.’

‘Maybe, but … Hey, stay with me.’

Jason’s head started to droop. The cracks

in the stones came into sharper focus.

‘Little dizzy,’ he muttered.

‘More nectar,’ Piper ordered. ‘There. Taste

okay?’

‘Yeah. Yeah, fine.’

In fact the nectar tasted like liquid saw-

dust, but Jason kept that to himself. Ever

since the House of Hades when he’d resigned

his praetorship, ambrosia and nectar didn’t

taste like his favourite foods from Camp

Jupiter. It was as if the memory of his old

home no longer had the power to heal him.

Born a Roman, die a Roman, Michael

Varus had said.

He looked at the smoke curling from his

bandages. He had worse things to worry

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about than blood loss. Annabeth was right

about Imperial gold. The stuff was deadly to

demigods as well as monsters. The wound

from Varus’s blade would do its best to eat

away at Jason’s life force.

He’d seen a demigod die like that once be-

fore. It hadn’t been fast or pretty.

I can’t die, he told himself. My friends are depending on me.

Antinous’s words rang in his ears – about

the giants in Athens, the impossible trip fa-

cing the Argo II, the mysterious hunter Gaia had sent to intercept the Athena Parthenos.

‘Reyna, Nico and Coach Hedge,’ he said.

‘They’re in danger. We need to warn them.’

‘We’ll take care of it when we get back to

the ship,’ Piper promised. ‘Your job right

now is to relax.’ Her tone was light and con-

fident, but her eyes brimmed with tears.

‘Besides, those three are a tough group.

They’ll be fine.’

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Jason hoped she was right. Reyna had

risked so much to help them. Coach Hedge

was annoying sometimes, but he’d been a

loyal protector for the entire crew. And Nico

… Jason felt especially worried about him.

Piper brushed her thumb against the scar

on his lip. ‘Once the war is over … everything

will work out for Nico. You’ve done what you

could, being a friend to him.’

Jason wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t

told Piper anything about his conversations

with Nico. He’d kept di Angelo’s secret.

Still … Piper seemed to sense what was

wrong. As a daughter of Aphrodite, maybe

she could tell when somebody was struggling

with heartache. She hadn’t pressured Jason

to talk about it, though. He appreciated that.

Another wave of pain made him wince.

‘Concentrate on my voice.’ Piper kissed his

forehead. ‘Think about something good.

Birthday cake in the park in Rome –’

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‘That was nice.’

‘Last winter,’ she suggested. ‘The s’mores

fight at the campfire.’

‘I totally got you.’

‘You had marshmallows in your hair for

days!’

‘I did not.’

Jason’s mind drifted back to better times.

He just wanted to stay there – talking with

Piper, holding her hand, not worrying about

giants or Gaia or his mother’s madness.

He knew they should get back to the ship.

He was in bad shape. They had the informa-

tion they’d come for. But as he lay there on

the cool stones, Jason felt a sense of incom-

pleteness. The story of the suitors and Queen

Penelope … his thoughts about family … his

recent dreams. Those things all swirled

around in his head. There was something

more to this place – something he’d missed.

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Annabeth came back limping from the

edge of the hill.

‘Are you hurt?’ Jason asked her.

Annabeth glanced at her ankle. ‘It’s fine.

Just the old break from the Roman caverns.

Sometimes when I’m stressed … That’s not

important. I signalled Leo. Frank’s going to

change form, fly up here and carry you back

to the ship. I need to make a litter to keep

you stable.’

Jason had a terrifying image of himself in

a hammock, swinging between the claws of

Frank the giant eagle, but he decided it

would be better than dying.

Annabeth set to work. She collected scraps

left behind by the suitors – a leather belt, a

torn tunic, sandal straps, a red blanket and a

couple of broken spear shafts. Her hands

flew across the materials – ripping, weaving,

tying, braiding.

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‘How are you doing that?’ Jason asked in

amazement.

‘Learned it during my quest under Rome.’

Annabeth kept her eyes on her work. ‘I’d

never had a reason to try weaving before, but

it’s handy for certain things, like getting

away from spiders …’

She tied off one last bit of leather cord and

voilà – a stretcher large enough for Jason, with spear shafts as carrying handles and

safety straps across the middle.

Piper whistled appreciatively. ‘The next

time I need a dress altered, I’m coming to

you.’

‘Shut up, McLean,’ Annabeth said, but her

eyes glinted with satisfaction. ‘Now, let’s get

him secured –’

‘Wait,’ Jason said.

His heart pounded. Watching Annabeth

weave the makeshift bed, Jason had re-

membered the story of Penelope – how she’d

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held out for twenty years, waiting for her

husband Odysseus to return.

‘A bed,’ Jason said. ‘There was a special

bed in this palace.’

Piper looked worried. ‘Jason, you’ve lost a

lot of blood.’

‘I’m not hallucinating,’ he insisted. ‘The

marriage bed was sacred. If there was any

place you could talk to Juno …’ He took a

deep breath and called, ‘Juno!’

Silence.

Maybe Piper was right. He wasn’t thinking

clearly.

Then, about sixty feet away, the stone floor

cracked. Branches muscled through the

earth, growing in fast motion until a full-

sized olive tree shaded the courtyard. Under

a canopy of grey-green leaves stood a dark-

haired woman in a white dress, a leopard-

skin cape draped over her shoulders. Her

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staff was topped with a white lotus flower.

Her expression was cool and regal.

‘My heroes,’ said the goddess.

‘Hera,’ Piper said.

‘Juno,’ Jason corrected.

‘Whatever,’ Annabeth grumbled. ‘What are

you doing here, Your Bovine Majesty?’

Juno’s dark eyes glittered dangerously.

‘Annabeth Chase. As charming as ever.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Annabeth said, ‘I just got back

from Tartarus, so my manners are a little

rusty, especially towards goddesses who

wiped my boyfriend’s memory, made him

disappear for months and then –’

‘Honestly, child. Are we going to rehash

this again?’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be suffering from

split-personality disorder?’ Annabeth asked.

‘I mean – more so than usual?’

‘Whoa,’ Jason interceded. He had plenty of

reasons to hate Juno, but they had other

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issues to deal with. ‘Juno, we need your help.

We –’ Jason tried to sit up and immediately

regretted it. His insides felt like they were

being twirled on a giant spaghetti fork.

Piper kept him from falling over. ‘First

things first,’ she said. ‘Jason is hurt. Heal

him!’

The goddess knitted her eyebrows. Her

form shimmered unsteadily.

‘Some things even the gods cannot heal,’

she said. ‘This wound touches your soul as

well as your body. You must fight it, Jason

Grace … you must survive.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ he said, his mouth dry. ‘I’m

trying.’

‘What do you mean, the wound touches his

soul?’ Piper demanded. ‘Why can’t you –’

‘My heroes, our time together is short,’

Juno said. ‘I am grateful that you called upon

me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and

confusion … my Greek and Roman natures

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warring against each other. Worse, I’ve been

forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for

me in his misguided wrath, believing that I

caused this war with Gaia.’

‘Gee,’ Annabeth said, ‘why would he think

that?’

Juno flashed her an irritated look. ‘For-

tunately, this place is sacred to me. By clear-

ing away those ghosts, you have purified it

and given me a moment of clarity. I will be

able to speak with you – if only briefly.’

‘Why is it sacred … ?’ Piper’s eyes widened.

‘Oh. The marriage bed!’

‘Marriage bed?’ Annabeth asked. ‘I don’t

see any –’

‘The bed of Penelope and Odysseus,’ Piper

explained. ‘One of its bedposts was a living

olive tree, so it could never be moved.’

‘Indeed.’ Juno ran her hand along the olive

tree’s trunk. ‘An immovable marriage bed.

Such a beautiful symbol! Like Penelope, the

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most faithful wife, standing her ground,

fending off a hundred arrogant suitors for

years because she knew her husband would

return. Odysseus and Penelope – the epi-

tome of a perfect marriage!’

Even in his dazed state, Jason was pretty

sure he remembered stories about Odysseus

falling for other women during his travels,

but he decided not to bring that up.

‘Can you advise us, at least?’ he asked. ‘Tell

us what to do?’

‘Sail around the Peloponnese,’ said the

goddess. ‘As you suspect, that is the only

possible route. On your way, seek out the

goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of

control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift

between Greek and Roman can never be

healed.’

‘You mean Nike?’ Annabeth asked. ‘How is

she out of control?’

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Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the

hill.

‘Explaining would take too long,’ Juno

said. ‘I must flee before Jupiter finds me.

Once I leave, I will not be able to help you

again.’

Jason bit back a retort: When did you help

me the first time?

‘What else should we know?’ he asked.

‘As you heard, the giants have gathered in

Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on

your journey, but I am not the only Olympi-

an who is out of favour with Jupiter. The

twins have also incurred his wrath.’

‘Artemis and Apollo?’ Piper asked. ‘Why?’

Juno’s image began to fade. ‘If you reach

the island of Delos, they might be prepared

to help you. They are desperate enough to try

anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps

we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed.

If you do not …’

100/982

The goddess disappeared, or maybe

Jason’s eyesight simply failed. Pain rolled

through him. His head lolled back. He saw a

giant eagle circling high above. Then the blue

sky turned black, and Jason saw nothing at

all.

V

Reyna

DIVE-BOMBING A VOLCANO was not on

Reyna’s bucket list.

Her first view of southern Italy was from

five thousand feet in the air. To the west,

along the crescent of the Gulf of Naples, the

lights of sleeping cities glittered in the pre-

dawn gloom. A thousand feet below her, a

half-mile-wide caldera yawned at the top of a

mountain, white steam pluming from the

centre.

Reyna’s disorientation took a moment to

subside. Shadow-travel left her groggy and nauseous, as if she’d been dragged from the

103/982

cold waters of the frigidarium into the sauna at a Roman bathhouse.

Then she realized she was suspended in

midair. Gravity took hold, and she began to

fall.

‘Nico!’ she yelled.

‘Pan’s pipes!’ cursed Gleeson Hedge.

‘Whaaaaa!’ Nico flailed, almost slipping

out of Reyna’s grip. She held tight and

grabbed Coach Hedge by the shirt collar as

he started to tumble away. If they got separ-

ated now, they were dead.

They plummeted towards the volcano as

their largest piece of luggage – the forty-

foot-tall Athena Parthenos – trailed after

them, leashed to a harness on Nico’s back

like a very ineffective parachute.

‘That’s Vesuvius below us!’ Reyna shouted

over the wind. ‘Nico, teleport us out of here!’

His eyes were wild and unfocused. His

dark feathery hair whipped around his face

104/982

like a raven shot out of the sky. ‘I – I can’t!

No strength!’

Coach Hedge bleated. ‘News flash, kid!

Goats can’t fly! Zap us out of here or we’re

gonna get flattened into an Athena

Parthenos omelette!’

Reyna tried to think. She could accept

death if she had to, but if the Athena

Parthenos was destroyed their quest would

fail. Reyna could not accept that.

‘Nico, shadow-travel,’ she ordered. ‘I’ll

lend you my strength.’

He stared at her blankly. ‘How –’

‘ Do it! ’

She tightened her grip on his hand. The

torch-and-sword symbol of Bellona on her forearm grew painfully hot, as if it were being seared into her skin for the first time.

Nico gasped. Colour returned to his face.

Just before they hit the volcano’s steam

plume, they slipped into shadows.

105/982

The air turned frigid. The sound of the

wind was replaced by a cacophony of voices

whispering in a thousand languages. Reyna’s

insides felt like a giant piragua – cold syrup trickled over crushed ice – her favourite treat

from her childhood in Viejo San Juan.

She wondered why that memory would

surface now, when she was on the verge of

death. Then her vision cleared. Her feet res-

ted on solid ground.

The eastern sky had begun to lighten. For

a moment Reyna thought she was back in

New Rome. Doric columns lined an atrium

the size of a baseball diamond. In front of

her, a bronze faun stood in the middle of a

sunken fountain decorated with mosaic tile.

Crepe myrtles and rosebushes bloomed in

a nearby garden. Palm trees and pines

stretched skyward. Cobblestone paths led

from the courtyard in several directions –

straight, level roads of good Roman

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construction, edging low stone houses with

colonnaded porches.

Reyna turned. Behind her, the Athena

Parthenos stood intact and upright, domin-

ating the courtyard like a ridiculously over-

sized lawn ornament. The little bronze faun

in the fountain had both his arms raised, fa-

cing Athena, so he seemed to be cowering in

fear of the new arrival.

On the horizon, Mount Vesuvius loomed –

a dark, humpbacked shape now several miles

away. Thick pillars of steam curled from the

crest.

‘We’re in Pompeii,’ Reyna realized.

‘Oh, that’s not good,’ Nico said, and he im-

mediately collapsed.

‘Whoa!’ Coach Hedge caught him before

he hit the ground. The satyr propped him

against Athena’s feet and loosened the har-

ness that attached Nico to the statue.

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Reyna’s own knees buckled. She’d expec-

ted some backlash; it happened every time

she shared her strength. But she hadn’t anti-

cipated so much raw anguish from Nico di

Angelo. She sat down heavily, just managing

to stay conscious.

Gods of Rome. If this was only a portion of Nico’s pain … how could he bear it?

She tried to steady her breathing while

Coach Hedge rummaged through his camp-

ing supplies. Around Nico’s boots, the stones

cracked. Dark seams radiated outwards like

a shotgun blast of ink, as if Nico’s body were

trying to expel all the shadows he’d travelled

through.

Yesterday had been worse: an entire

meadow withering, skeletons rising from the

earth. Reyna wasn’t anxious for that to hap-

pen again.

‘Drink something.’ She offered him a

canteen of unicorn draught – powdered horn

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mixed with sanctified water from the Little

Tiber. They’d found it worked on Nico better than nectar, helping to cleanse the fatigue

and darkness from his system with less

danger of spontaneous combustion.

Nico gulped it down. He still looked ter-

rible. His skin had a bluish tint. His cheeks

were sunken. Hanging at his side, the sceptre

of Diocletian glowed angry purple, like a ra-dioactive bruise.

He studied Reyna. ‘How did you do that …

that surge of energy?’

Reyna turned her forearm. The tattoo still

burned like hot wax: the symbol of Bellona,

SPQR, with four lines for her years of service.

‘I don’t like to talk about it,’ she said, ‘but it’s a power from my mother. I can impart

strength to others.’

Coach Hedge looked up from his rucksack.

‘Seriously? Why haven’t you hooked me up,

Roman girl? I want super-muscles!’

109/982

Reyna frowned. ‘It doesn’t work like that,

Coach. I can only do it in life-and-death situ-

ations, and it’s more useful in large groups.

When I command troops, I can share

whatever attributes I have – strength, cour-

age, endurance – multiplied by the size of my

forces.’

Nico arched an eyebrow. ‘Useful for a Ro-

man praetor.’

Reyna didn’t answer. She preferred not to

speak of her power for exactly this reason.

She didn’t want the demigods under her

command to think she was controlling them,

or that she’d become a leader because she

had some special magic. She could only

share the qualities she already possessed,

and she couldn’t help anyone who wasn’t

worthy of being a hero.

Coach Hedge grunted. ‘Too bad. Super-

muscles would be nice.’ He went back to

sorting through his pack, which seemed to

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hold a bottomless supply of cooking utensils,

survivalist gear and random sports

equipment.

Nico took another swig of unicorn

draught. His eyes were heavy with exhaus-

tion, but Reyna could tell he was fighting to

stay awake.

‘You stumbled just now,’ he noted. ‘When

you use your power … do you get some sort

of, um, feedback from me?’

‘It’s not mind-reading,’ she said. ‘Not even

an empathy link. Just … a temporary wave of

exhaustion. Primal emotions. Your pain

washes over me. I take on some of your

burden.’

Nico’s expression became guarded.

He twisted the silver skull ring on his fin-

ger, the same way Reyna did with her silver ring when she was thinking. Sharing a habit

with the son of Hades made her uneasy.

111/982

She’d felt more pain from Nico in their

brief connection than she had from her en-

tire legion during the battle against the giant

Polybotes. It had drained her worse than the last time she’d used her power, to sustain her

pegasus Scipio during their journey across the Atlantic.

She tried to push away that memory. Her

brave winged friend dying from poison, his

muzzle in her lap, looking at her trustingly as

she raised her dagger to end his misery …

Gods, no. She couldn’t dwell on that or it

would break her.

But the pain she’d felt from Nico was

sharper.

‘You should rest,’ she told him. ‘After two

jumps in a row, even with a little help …

you’re lucky to be alive. We’ll need you to be

ready again by nightfall.’

She felt bad asking him to do something so

impossible. Unfortunately, she’d had a lot of

112/982

practice pushing demigods beyond their

limits.

Nico clenched his jaw and nodded. ‘We’re

stuck here now.’ He scanned the ruins. ‘But

Pompeii is the last place I would’ve chosen to land. This place is full of lemures.’

‘Lemurs?’ Coach Hedge seemed to be mak-

ing some sort of snare out of kite string, a

tennis racket and a hunting knife. ‘You mean

those cute fuzzy critters –’

‘ No. ’ Nico sounded annoyed, like he got

that question a lot. ‘ Lemures. Unfriendly

ghosts. All Roman cities have them, but in

Pompeii –’

‘The whole city was wiped out,’ Reyna re-

membered. ‘In 79 C.E., Vesuvius erupted and

covered the town in ash.’

Nico nodded. ‘A tragedy like that creates a

lot of angry spirits.’

Coach Hedge eyed the distant volcano. ‘It’s

steaming. Is that a bad sign?’

113/982

‘I – I’m not sure.’ Nico picked at a hole in

the knee of his black jeans. ‘Mountain gods,

the ourae, can sense children of Hades. It’s possible that’s why we were pulled off

course. The spirit of Vesuvius might have

been intentionally trying to kill us. But I

doubt the mountain can hurt us this far

away. Working up to a full eruption would

take too long. The immediate threat is all

around us.’

The back of Reyna’s neck tingled.

She’d grown used to Lares, the friendly

spirits at Camp Jupiter, but even they made her uneasy. They didn’t have a good understanding of personal space. Sometimes

they’d walk right through her, leaving her

with vertigo. Being in Pompeii gave Reyna

the same feeling, as if the whole city was one

big ghost that had swallowed her whole.

She couldn’t tell her friends how much she

feared ghosts, or why she feared them. The

114/982

whole reason she and her sister had run

away from San Juan all those years ago …

that secret had to stay buried.

‘Can you keep them at bay?’ she asked.

Nico turned up his palms. ‘I’ve sent out

that message: Stay away. But once I’m

asleep it won’t do us much good.’

Coach Hedge patted his tennis-racket-

knife contraption. ‘Don’t worry, kid. I’m go-

ing to line the perimeter with alarms and

snares. Plus, I’ll be watching over you the

whole time with my baseball bat.’

That didn’t seem to reassure Nico, but his

eyes were already half-closed. ‘Okay. But …

go easy. We don’t want another Albania.’

‘No,’ Reyna agreed.

Their first shadow-travel experience to-

gether two days ago had been a total fiasco,

possibly the most humiliating episode in

Reyna’s long career. Perhaps someday, if

they survived, they would look back on it and

115/982

laugh, but not now. The three of them had

agreed never to speak of it. What happened

in Albania would stay in Albania.

Coach Hedge looked hurt. ‘Fine, whatever.

Just rest, kid. We got you covered.’

‘All right,’ Nico relented. ‘Maybe a little …’

He managed to take off his aviator jacket and

wad it into a pillow before he keeled over and

began to snore.

Reyna marvelled at how peaceful he

looked. The worry lines vanished. His face

became strangely angelic … like his surname,

di Angelo. She could almost believe he was a regular fourteen-year-old boy, not a son of

Hades who had been pulled out of time from

the 1940s and forced to endure more tragedy

and danger than most demigods would in a

lifetime.

When Nico had arrived at Camp Jupiter,

Reyna didn’t trust him. She’d sensed there

was more to his story than being an

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ambassador from his father, Pluto. Now, of course, she knew the truth. He was a Greek

demigod – the first person in living memory,

perhaps the first ever, to go back and forth between the Roman and Greek camps

without telling either group that the other

existed.

Strangely, that made Reyna trust Nico

more.

Sure, he wasn’t Roman. He’d never hunted

with Lupa or endured the brutal legion train-

ing. But Nico had proven himself in other

ways. He’d kept the camps’ secrets for the

best of reasons, because he feared a war. He

had plunged into Tartarus alone, voluntar-

ily, to find the Doors of Death. He’d been

captured and imprisoned by giants. He had

led the crew of the Argo II into the House of Hades … and now he had accepted yet another terrible quest: risking himself to haul the

Athena Parthenos back to Camp Half-Blood.

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The pace of the journey was maddeningly

slow. They could only shadow-travel a few

hundred miles each night, resting during the

day to let Nico recover, but even that re-

quired more stamina from Nico than Reyna

would have thought possible.

He carried so much sadness and loneli-

ness, so much heartache. Yet he put his mis-

sion first. He persevered. Reyna respected

that. She understood that.

She’d never been a touchy-feely person,

but she had the strangest desire to drape her

cloak over Nico’s shoulders and tuck him in.

She mentally chided herself. He was a com-

rade, not her little brother. He wouldn’t ap-

preciate the gesture.

‘Hey.’ Coach Hedge interrupted her

thoughts. ‘You need sleep, too. I’ll take first

watch and cook some grub. Those ghosts

shouldn’t be too dangerous now that the

sun’s coming up.’

118/982

Reyna hadn’t noticed how light it was get-

ting. Pink and turquoise clouds striped the

eastern horizon. The little bronze faun cast a

shadow across the dry fountain.

‘I’ve read about this place,’ Reyna realized.

‘It’s one of the best-preserved villas in Pom-

peii. They call it the House of the Faun.’

Gleeson glanced at the statue with dis-

taste. ‘Yeah, well, today it’s the House of the

Satyr.’

Reyna managed a smile. She was starting

to appreciate the differences between satyrs

and fauns. If she ever fell asleep with a faun

on duty, she’d wake up with her supplies

stolen, a moustache drawn on her face and

the faun long gone. Coach Hedge was differ-

ent – mostly good different, though he did have an unhealthy obsession with martial

arts and baseball bats.

119/982

‘All right,’ she agreed. ‘You take first

watch. I’ll put Aurum and Argentum on

guard duty with you.’

Hedge looked like he wanted to protest,

but Reyna whistled sharply. The metallic

greyhounds materialized from the ruins, ra-

cing towards her from different directions.

Even after so many years, Reyna had no idea

where they came from or where they went

when she dismissed them, but seeing them

lifted her spirits.

Hedge cleared his throat. ‘You sure those

aren’t Dalmatians? They look like

Dalmatians.’

‘They’re greyhounds, Coach.’ Reyna had

no idea why Hedge feared Dalmatians, but

she was too tired to ask right now. ‘Aurum,

Argentum, guard us while I sleep. Obey

Gleeson Hedge.’

The dogs circled the courtyard, keeping

their distance from the Athena Parthenos,

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which radiated hostility towards everything

Roman.

Reyna herself was only now getting used to

it, and she was pretty sure the statue did not

appreciate being relocated in the middle of

an ancient Roman city.

She lay down and pulled her purple cloak

over herself. Her fingers curled around the

pouch at her belt, where she kept the silver

coin Annabeth had given her before they

parted company in Epirus.

It’s a sign that things can change, Anna-

beth had told her. The Mark of Athena is

yours now. Maybe the coin will bring you

luck.

Whether that luck would be good or bad,

Reyna wasn’t sure.

She took one last look at the bronze faun

cowering before the sunrise and the Athena

Parthenos. Then she closed her eyes and

slipped into dreams.

V I

Reyna

MOST OF THE TIME, Reyna could control her

nightmares.

She had trained her mind to start all her

dreams in her favourite place – the Garden

of Bacchus on the tallest hill in New Rome.

She felt safe and tranquil there. When vis-

ions invaded her sleep – as they always did

with demigods – she could contain them by

imagining they were reflections in the

garden’s fountain. This allowed her to sleep

peacefully and avoid waking up the next

morning in a cold sweat.

Tonight, however, she wasn’t so lucky.

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The dream began well enough. She stood

in the garden on a warm afternoon, the ar-

bour heavy with blooming honey-suckle. In

the central fountain, the little statue of Bac-

chus spouted water into the basin.

The golden domes and red-tiled roofs of

New Rome spread out below her. Half a mile

west rose the fortifications of Camp Jupiter.

Beyond that, the Little Tiber curved gently

around the valley, tracing the edge of the

Berkeley Hills, hazy and golden in the sum-

mer light.

Reyna held a cup of hot chocolate, her fa-

vourite drink.

She exhaled contentedly. This place was

worth defending – for herself, for her

friends, for all demigods. Her four years at

Camp Jupiter hadn’t been easy, but they’d

been the best time of Reyna’s life.

Suddenly the horizon darkened. Reyna

thought it might be a storm. Then she

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realized a tidal wave of dark loam was rolling

across the hills, turning the skin of the earth

inside out, leaving nothing behind.

Reyna watched in horror as the earthen

tide reached the edge of the valley. The god

Terminus sustained a magical barrier around the camp, but it slowed the destruction for

only a moment. Purple light sprayed upward

like shattered glass, and the tide poured

through, shredding trees, destroying roads,

wiping the Little Tiber off the map.

It’s a vision, Reyna thought. I can control

this.

She tried to change the dream. She ima-

gined that the destruction was only a reflec-

tion in the fountain, a harmless video image,

but the nightmare continued in full vivid

scope.

The earth swallowed the Field of Mars, ob-

literating every trace of forts and trenches

from the war games. The city’s aqueduct

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collapsed like a line of children’s blocks.

Camp Jupiter itself fell – watchtowers crash-

ing down, walls and barracks disintegrating.

The screams of demigods were silenced, and

the earth moved on.

A sob built in Reyna’s throat. The gleam-

ing shrines and monuments on Temple Hill

crumbled. The coliseum and the hippodrome

were swept away. The tide of loam reached

the Pomerian line and roared straight into

the city. Families ran through the forum.

Children cried in terror.

The Senate House imploded. Villas and

gardens disappeared like crops under a tiller.

The tide churned uphill towards the Garden

of Bacchus – the last remnant of Reyna’s

world.

You left them helpless, Reyna Ramírez-

Arellano. A woman’s voice issued from the

black terrain. Your camp will be destroyed.

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Your quest is a fool’s errand. My hunter

comes for you.

Reyna tore herself from the garden railing.

She ran to the fountain of Bacchus and

gripped the rim of the basin, staring desper-

ately into the water. She willed the night-

mare to become a harmless reflection.

THUNK.

The basin broke in half, split by an arrow

the size of a rake. Reyna stared in shock at

the raven-feather fletching, the shaft painted

red, yellow and black like a coral snake, the

Stygian iron point embedded in her gut.

She looked up through a haze of pain. At

the edge of the garden, a dark figure ap-

proached – the silhouette of a man whose

eyes shone like miniature headlamps, blind-

ing Reyna. She heard the scrape of iron

against leather as he drew another arrow

from his quiver.

Then her dream changed.

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The garden and the hunter vanished, along

with the arrow in Reyna’s stomach.

She found herself in an abandoned vine-

yard. Stretched out before her, acres of dead

grapevines hung in rows on wooden lattices,

like gnarled miniature skeletons. At the far

end of the fields stood a cedar-shingled

farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Bey-

ond that, the land dropped off into the sea.

Reyna recognized this place: the Gold-

smith Winery on the north shore of Long Is-

land. Her scouting parties had secured it as a

forward base for the legion’s assault on

Camp Half-Blood.

She had ordered the bulk of the legion to

remain in Manhattan until she told them

otherwise, but obviously Octavian had dis-

obeyed her.

The entire Twelfth Legion was camped in

the northern-most field. They’d dug in with

their usual military precision – ten-foot-deep

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trenches and spiked earthen walls around

the perimeter, a watchtower on each corner

armed with ballistae. Inside, tents were ar-

ranged in neat rows of white and red. The

standards of all five cohorts curled in the

wind.

The sight of the legion should have lifted

Reyna’s spirits. It was a small force, barely

two hundred demigods, but they were well

trained and well organized. If Julius Caesar

came back from the dead, he would’ve had

no trouble recognizing Reyna’s troops as

worthy soldiers of Rome.

But they had no business being so close to

Camp Half-Blood. Octavian’s insubordina-

tion made Reyna clench her fists. He was in-

tentionally provoking the Greeks, hoping for

battle.

Her dream vision zoomed to the porch of

the farmhouse, where Octavian sat in a gil-

ded chair that looked suspiciously like a

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throne. Along with his senatorial purple-

lined toga, his centurion badge and his au-

gur’s knife, he had adopted a new honour: a

white cloth mantle over his head, which

marked him as Pontifex Maximus, high

priest to the gods.

Reyna wanted to strangle him. No demi-

god in living memory had taken the title

Pontifex Maximus. By doing so, Octavian

was elevating himself almost to the level of

emperor.

To his right, reports and maps were strewn

across a low table. To his left, a marble altar

was heaped with fruit and gold offerings, no

doubt for the gods. But to Reyna it looked

like an altar to Octavian himself.

At his side, the legion’s eagle bearer, Ja-

cob, stood at attention, sweating in his lion-

skin cloak as he held the staff with the

golden eagle standard of the Twelfth.

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Octavian was in the midst of an audience.

At the base of the stairs knelt a boy in jeans

and a rumpled hoodie. Octavian’s fellow cen-

turion of the First Cohort, Mike Kahale,

stood to one side with his arms crossed,

glowering with obvious displeasure.

‘Well, now.’ Octavian scanned a piece of

parchment. ‘I see here you are a legacy, a

descendant of Orcus.’

The boy in the hoodie looked up, and

Reyna caught her breath. Bryce Lawrence.

She recognized his mop of brown hair, his

broken nose, his cruel green eyes and smug,

twisted smile.

‘Yes, my lord,’ Bryce said.

‘Oh, I’m not a lord.’ Octavian’s eyes

crinkled. ‘Just a centurion, an augur and a

humble priest doing his best to serve the

gods. I understand you were dismissed from

the legion for … ah, disciplinary problems.’

131/982

Reyna tried to shout, but she couldn’t

make a sound. Octavian knew perfectly well

why Bryce had been kicked out. Much like

his godly forefather, Orcus, the underworld

god of punishment, Bryce was completely re-

morseless. The little psychopath had sur-

vived his trials with Lupa just fine, but as

soon as he arrived at Camp Jupiter he had

proved to be untrainable. He had tried to set

a cat on fire for fun. He had stabbed a horse

and sent it stampeding through the Forum.

He was even suspected of sabotaging a siege

engine and getting his own centurion killed

during the war games.

If Reyna had been able to prove it, Bryce’s

punishment would’ve been death. But be-

cause the evidence was circumstantial, and

because Bryce’s family was rich and powerful

with lots of influence in New Rome, he’d got

away with the lighter sentence of

banishment.

132/982

‘Yes, Pontifex,’ Bryce said slowly. ‘But, if I

may, those charges were unproven. I am a

loyal Roman.’

Mike Kahale looked like he was doing his

best not to throw up.

Octavian smiled. ‘I believe in second

chances. You’ve responded to my call for re-

cruits. You have the proper credentials and

letters of recommendation. Do you pledge to

follow my orders and serve the legion?’

‘Absolutely,’ said Bryce.

‘Then you are reinstated in probatio,’

Octavian said, ‘until you have proven your-

self in combat.’

He gestured at Mike, who reached in his

pouch and fished out a lead probatio tablet on a leather cord. He hung the cord around

Bryce’s neck.

‘Report to the Fifth Cohort,’ Octavian said.

‘They could use some new blood, some fresh

133/982

perspective. If your centurion Dakota has

any problem with that, tell him to talk to me.’

Bryce smiled like he’d just been handed a

sharp knife. ‘My pleasure.’

‘And, Bryce.’ Octavian’s face looked almost

ghoulish under his white mantle – his eyes

too piercing, his cheeks too gaunt, his lips

too thin and colourless. ‘However much

money, power and prestige the Lawrence

family carries in the legion, remember that

my family carries more. I am personally sponsoring you, as I am sponsoring all the

other new recruits. Follow my orders, and

you’ll advance quickly. Soon I may have a

little job for you – a chance to prove your

worth. But cross me and I will not be as leni-

ent as Reyna. Do you understand?’

Bryce’s smile faded. He looked like he

wanted to say something, but he changed his

mind. He nodded.

134/982

‘Good,’ Octavian said. ‘Also, get a haircut.

You look like one of those Graecus scum.

Dismissed.’

After Bryce left, Mike Kahale shook his

head. ‘That makes two dozen now.’

‘It’s good news, my friend,’ Octavian as-

sured him. ‘We need the extra manpower.’

‘Murderers. Thieves. Traitors.’

‘Loyal demigods,’ Octavian said, ‘who owe

their position to me.’

Mike scowled. Until Reyna had met him,

she’d never understood why people called bi-

ceps guns, but Mike’s arms were as thick as bazooka barrels. He had broad features, a

toasted-almond complexion, onyx hair and

proud dark eyes, like the old Hawaiian kings.

She wasn’t sure how a high-school linebacker

from Hilo had wound up with Venus for a mom, but no one in the legion gave him any

grief about that – not once they saw him

crush rocks with his bare hands.

135/982

Reyna had always liked Mike Kahale. Un-

fortunately, Mike was very loyal to his sponsor. And his sponsor was Octavian.

The self-appointed pontifex rose and

stretched. ‘Don’t worry, old friend. Our siege

teams have the Greek camp surrounded. Our

eagles have complete air superiority. The

Greeks aren’t going anywhere until we’re

ready to strike. In eleven days, all my forces

will be in place. My little surprises will be

prepared. On August first, the Feast of Spes,

the Greek camp will fall.’

‘But Reyna said –’

‘We’ve been through this.’ Octavian slid

his iron dagger from his belt and threw it at

the table, where it impaled a map of Camp

Half-Blood. ‘Reyna has forfeited her posi-

tion. She went to the ancient lands, which is

against the law.’

‘But the Earth Mother –’

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‘– has been stirring because of the war

between the Greek and Roman camps, yes?

The gods are incapacitated, yes? And how do

we solve that problem, Mike? We eliminate

the division. We wipe out the Greeks. We re-

turn the gods to their proper manifestation

as Roman. Once the gods are restored to

their full power, Gaia will not dare rise. She

will sink back into her slumber. We demi-

gods will be strong and unified, as we were in

the old days of the empire. Besides, the first

day of August is most auspicious – the

month named after my ancestor Augustus.

And you know how he united the Romans?’

‘He seized power and became emperor,’

Mike rumbled.

Octavian waved aside the comment. ‘Non-

sense. He saved Rome by becoming First Cit-

izen. He wanted peace and prosperity, not

power! Believe me, Mike, I intend to follow

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his example. I will save New Rome and,

when I do, I will remember my friends.’

Mike shifted his considerable bulk. ‘You

sound certain. Has your gift of prophecy –’

Octavian held up his hand in warning. He

glanced at Jacob the eagle bearer, who was

still standing at attention behind him.

‘Jacob, you’re dismissed. Why don’t you go

polish the eagle or something?’

Jacob’s shoulders slumped in relief. ‘Yes,

Augur. I mean Centurion! I mean Pontifex! I mean –’

‘Go.’

‘I’ll go.’

Once Jacob had hobbled off, Octavian’s

face clouded. ‘Mike, I told you not to speak of

my, ah, problem. But to answer your ques-

tion: no, there still seems to be some inter-

ference with Apollo’s usual gift to me.’ He glanced resentfully at a pile of mutilated

stuffed animals heaped in the corner of the

138/982

porch. ‘I can’t see the future. Perhaps that

false Oracle at Camp Half-Blood is working

some sort of witchcraft. But as I’ve told you

before, in strictest confidence, Apollo spoke

to me clearly last year at Camp Jupiter! He personally blessed my endeavours. He promised I would be remembered as the saviour

of the Romans.’

Octavian spread his arms, revealing his

harp tattoo, the symbol of his godly forefath-

er. Seven slash marks indicated his years of

service – more than any presiding officer, in-

cluding Reyna.

‘Never fear, Mike. We will crush the

Greeks. We will stop Gaia and her minions.

Then we’ll take that harpy the Greeks have

been harbouring – the one who memorized

our Sibylline Books – and we’ll force her to give us the knowledge of our ancestors. Once

that happens, I’m sure Apollo will restore my

139/982

gift of prophecy. Camp Jupiter will be more

powerful than ever. We will rule the future.’

Mike’s scowl didn’t lessen, but he raised

his fist in salute. ‘You’re the boss.’

‘Yes, I am.’ Octavian pulled his dagger

from the table. ‘Now, go check on those two

dwarfs you captured. I want them properly

terrified before I interrogate them again and

dispatch them to Tartarus.’

The dream faded.

‘Hey, wake up.’ Reyna’s eyes fluttered

open. Gleeson Hedge was leaning over her,

shaking her shoulder. ‘We got trouble.’

His grave tone got her blood moving.

‘What is it?’ She struggled to sit up.

‘Ghosts? Monsters?’

Hedge scowled. ‘Worse. Tourists.’

V I I

Reyna

THE HORDES HAD ARRIVED.

In groups of twenty or thirty, tourists

swarmed through the ruins, milling around

the villas, wandering the cobblestone paths,

gawking at the colourful frescoes and

mosaics.

Reyna worried how the tourists would re-

act to a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena in the

middle of the courtyard, but the Mist must

have been working overtime to obscure the

mortals’ vision.

Each time a group approached, they’d stop

at the edge of the courtyard and stare in

142/982

disappointment at the statue. One British

tour guide announced, ‘Ah, scaffolding. It

appears this area is undergoing restoration.

Pity. Let’s move along.’

And off they went.

At least the statue didn’t rumble, ‘DIE,

UNBELIEVERS!’ and zap the mortals to

dust. Reyna had once dealt with a statue of

the goddess Diana like that. It hadn’t been her most relaxing day.

She recalled what Annabeth had told her

about the Athena Parthenos: its magical aura

both attracted monsters and kept them at

bay. Sure enough, every so often, out of the

corner of her eye, Reyna would spot glowing

white spirits in Roman clothes flitting among

the ruins, frowning at the statue in

consternation.

‘Those lemures are everywhere,’ Gleeson

muttered. ‘Keeping their distance for now –

143/982

but come nightfall we’d better be ready to

move. Ghosts are always worse at night.’

Reyna didn’t need to be reminded of that.

She watched as an elderly couple in

matching pastel shirts and Bermuda shorts

tottered through a nearby garden. She was

glad they didn’t come any closer. Around the

camp, Coach Hedge had rigged all sorts of

trip wires, snares and oversized mousetraps

that wouldn’t stop any self-respecting mon-

ster, but they might very well bring down a

senior citizen.

Despite the warm morning, Reyna

shivered from her dreams. She couldn’t de-

cide which was more terrifying – the im-

pending destruction of New Rome, or the

way Octavian was poisoning the legion from

the inside.

Your quest is a fool’s errand.

Camp Jupiter needed her. The Twelfth Le-

gion needed her. Yet Reyna was halfway

144/982

across the world, watching a satyr toast blue-

berry waffles on a stick over an open fire.

She wanted to talk about her nightmares,

but she decided to wait until Nico woke up.

She wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to de-

scribe them twice.

Nico kept snoring. Reyna had discovered

that once he fell asleep it took a lot to wake him up. The coach could do a goat-hoof tap

dance around Nico’s head and the son of

Hades wouldn’t even budge.

‘Here.’ Hedge offered her a plate of flame-

grilled waffles with fresh sliced kiwi and

pineapple. It all looked surprisingly good.

‘Where are you getting these supplies?’

Reyna marvelled.

‘Hey, I’m a satyr. We’re very efficient

packers.’ He took a bite of waffle. ‘We also

know how to live off the land!’

As Reyna ate, Coach Hedge took out a

notepad and started to write. When he was

145/982

finished, he folded the paper into an aero-

plane and tossed it into the air. A breeze car-

ried it away.

‘A letter to your wife?’ Reyna guessed.

Under the rim of his baseball cap, Hedge’s

eyes were bloodshot. ‘Mellie’s a cloud

nymph. Air spirits send stuff by paper aero-

plane all the time. Hopefully her cousins will

keep the letter going across the ocean until it

finds her. It’s not as fast as an Iris-message, but, well, I want our kid to have some record

of me, in case, you know …’

‘We’ll get you home,’ Reyna promised.

‘You will see your kid.’

Hedge clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Reyna was pretty good at getting people to

talk. She considered it essential to know her

comrades-in-arms. But she’d had a tough

time convincing Hedge to open up about his

wife, Mellie, who was close to giving birth

back at Camp Half-Blood. Reyna had trouble

146/982

imagining the coach as a father, but she un-

derstood what it was like to grow up without

parents. She wasn’t going to let that happen

to Coach Hedge’s child.

‘Yeah, well …’ The satyr bit off another

piece of waffle, including the stick he’d

toasted it on. ‘I just wish we could move

faster.’ He chin-pointed to Nico. ‘I don’t see

how this kid is going to last one more jump.

How many more will it take us to get home?’

Reyna shared his concern. In only eleven

days, the giants planned to awaken Gaia.

Octavian planned to attack Camp Half-Blood

on the same day. That couldn’t be a coincid-

ence. Perhaps Gaia was whispering in

Octavian’s ear, influencing his decisions sub-

consciously. Or worse: Octavian was actively

in league with the earth goddess. Reyna

didn’t want to believe that even Octavian

would knowingly betray the legion, but after

147/982

what she’d seen in her dreams she couldn’t

be sure.

She finished her meal as a group of

Chinese tourists shuffled past the courtyard.

Reyna had been awake for less than an hour

and already she was restless to get moving.

‘Thanks for breakfast, Coach.’ She got to

her feet and stretched. ‘If you’ll excuse me,

where there are tourists, there are bath-

rooms. I need to use the little praetors’

room.’

‘Go ahead.’ The coach jangled the whistle

that hung around his neck. ‘If anything hap-

pens, I’ll blow.’

Reyna left Aurum and Argentum on guard

duty and strolled through the crowds of mor-

tals until she found a visitors’ centre with re-

strooms. She did her best to clean up, but

she found it ironic that she was in an actual

Roman city and couldn’t enjoy a nice hot Ro-

man bath. She had to settle for paper towels,

148/982

a broken soap dispenser and an asthmatic

hand dryer. And the toilets … the less said

about those, the better.

As she was walking back, she passed a

small museum with a window display. Be-

hind the glass lay a row of plaster figures, all

frozen in the throes of death. A young girl

was curled in a fetal position. A woman lay

twisted in agony, her mouth open to scream,

her arms thrown overhead. A man knelt with

his head bowed, as if accepting the

inevitable.

Reyna stared with a mixture of horror and

revulsion. She’d read about such figures, but

she’d never seen them in person. After the

eruption of Vesuvius, volcanic ash had bur-

ied the city and hardened to rock around dy-

ing Pompeians. Their bodies had disinteg-

rated, leaving behind human-shaped pockets

of air. Early archaeologists had poured

149/982

plaster into the holes and made these casts –

creepy replicas of Ancient Romans.

Reyna found it disturbing, wrong, that

these people’s dying moments were on dis-

play like clothes in a shop window, yet she

couldn’t look away.

All her life she’d dreamed about coming to

Italy. She had assumed it would never hap-

pen. The ancient lands were forbidden to

modern demigods; the area was simply too

dangerous. Nevertheless, she wanted to fol-

low in the footsteps of Aeneas, son of Aph-

rodite, the first demigod to settle here after

the Trojan War. She wanted to see the ori-

ginal Tiber River, where Lupa the wolf god-

dess saved Romulus and Remus.

But Pompeii? Reyna had never wanted to

come here. The site of Rome’s most infam-

ous disaster, an entire city swallowed by the

earth … After Reyna’s nightmares, that hit a

little too close to home.

150/982

So far in the ancient lands, she’d only seen

one place on her wish list: Diocletian’s

Palace in Split, and even that visit had hardly

gone the way she’d imagined. Reyna used to

dream about going there with Jason to ad-

mire their favourite emperor’s home. She

pictured romantic walks with him through

the old city, sunset picnics on the parapets.

Instead, Reyna had arrived in Croatia not

with him but with a dozen angry wind spirits

on her tail. She’d fought her way through

ghosts in the palace. On her way out,

gryphons had attacked, mortally wounding

her pegasus. The closest she’d got to Jason

was finding a note he’d left for her under a

bust of Diocletian in the basement.

She would only have painful memories of

that place.

Don’t be bitter, she chided herself. Aeneas suffered, too. So did Romulus, Diocletian

151/982

and all the rest. Romans don’t complain

about hardship.

Staring at the plaster death figures in the

museum window, she wondered what they

had been thinking as they curled up to die in

the ashes. Probably not: Well, we’re Ro-

mans! We shouldn’t complain!

A gust of wind blew through the ruins,

making a hollow moan. Sunlight flashed

against the window, momentarily blinding

her.

With a start, Reyna looked up. The sun

was directly overhead. How could it be noon

already? She’d left the House of the Faun

just after breakfast. She’d only been standing

here a few minutes … hadn’t she?

She tore herself from the museum display

and hurried off, trying to shake the feeling

that the dead Pompeians were whispering

behind her back.

152/982

The rest of the afternoon was unnervingly

quiet.

Reyna kept watch while Coach Hedge

slept, but there was nothing much to guard

against. Tourists came and went. Random

harpies and wind spirits flew by overhead.

Reyna’s dogs would snarl in warning, but the

monsters didn’t stop to fight.

Ghosts skulked around the edges of the

courtyard, apparently intimidated by the

Athena Parthenos. Reyna couldn’t blame

them. The longer the statue stood in Pom-

peii, the more anger it seemed to radiate,

making Reyna’s skin itchy and her nerves

raw.

Finally, just after sunset, Nico woke. He

wolfed down an avocado and cheese sand-

wich, the first time he’d shown a decent ap-

petite since leaving the House of Hades.

Reyna hated to ruin his dinner, but they

didn’t have much time. As the daylight faded,

153/982

the ghosts started moving closer and in

greater numbers.

She told him about her dreams: the earth

swallowing Camp Jupiter, Octavian closing

in on Camp Half-Blood and the hunter with

the glowing eyes who had shot Reyna in the

gut.

Nico stared at his empty plate. ‘This

hunter … a giant, maybe?’

Coach Hedge grunted. ‘I’d rather not find

out. I say we keep moving.’

Nico’s mouth twitched. ‘ You are suggest-

ing we avoid a fight?’

‘Listen, cupcake, I like a smackdown as

much as the next guy, but we’ve got enough

monsters to worry about without some

bounty-hunter giant tracking us across the

world. I don’t like the sound of those huge

arrows.’

‘For once,’ Reyna said, ‘I agree with

Hedge.’

154/982

Nico unfolded his aviator jacket. He put

his finger through an arrow hole in the

sleeve.

‘I could ask for advice.’ Nico sounded re-

luctant. ‘Thalia Grace …’

‘Jason’s sister,’ Reyna said.

She’d never met Thalia. In fact, she’d only

recently learned Jason had a sister. According to Jason, she was a Greek demigod, a

daughter of Zeus, who led a group of Diana’s

… no, Artemis’s followers. The whole idea

made Reyna’s head spin.

Nico nodded. ‘The Hunters of Artemis are

… well, hunters. If anybody knew about this giant hunter guy, Thalia would. I could try

sending her an Iris-message.’

‘You don’t sound very excited about the

idea,’ Reyna noticed. ‘Are you two … on bad

terms?’

‘We’re fine.’

155/982

A few feet away, Aurum snarled quietly,

which meant Nico was lying.

Reyna decided not to press.

‘I should also try to contact my sister,

Hylla,’ she said. ‘Camp Jupiter is lightly de-

fended. If Gaia attacks there, perhaps the

Amazons could help.’

Coach Hedge scowled. ‘No offence, but, uh

… what’s an army of Amazons going to do

against a wave of dirt?’

Reyna fought down a sense of dread. She

suspected Hedge was right. Against what

she’d seen in her dreams, the only defence

would be to prevent the giants from waking

Gaia. For that, she had to put her trust in the

crew of the Argo II.

The daylight was almost gone. Around the

courtyard, ghosts were forming a mob –

hundreds of glowing Romans carrying spec-

tral clubs or stones.

156/982

‘We can talk more after the next jump,’

Reyna decided. ‘Right now, we need to get

out of here.’

‘Yeah.’ Nico stood. ‘I think we can reach

Spain this time if we’re lucky. Just let me –’

The mob of ghosts vanished, like a mass of

birthday candles blown out in a single

breath.

Reyna’s hand went to her dagger. ‘Where

did they go?’

Nico’s eyes flitted across the ruins. His ex-

pression was not reassuring. ‘I – I’m not

sure, but I don’t think it’s a good sign. Keep a

lookout. I’ll get harnessed up. Should only

take a few seconds.’

Gleeson Hedge rose to his hooves. ‘ A few

seconds you do not have. ’

Reyna’s stomach curled into a tiny ball.

Hedge spoke with a woman’s voice – the

same one Reyna had heard in her nightmare.

She drew her knife.

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Hedge turned towards her, his face expres-

sionless. His eyes were solid black. ‘ Be glad,

Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. You will die as a

Roman. You will join the ghosts of Pompeii. ’

The ground rumbled. All around the court-

yard, spirals of ash swirled into the air. They

solidified into crude human figures –

earthen shells like the ones in the museum.

They stared at Reyna, their eyes ragged holes

in faces of rock.

‘ The earth will swallow you,’ Hedge said

in the voice of Gaia. ‘ Just as it swallowed

them. ’

V I I I

Reyna

‘THERE ARE TOO MANY OF THEM.’ Reyna

wondered bitterly how many times she’d said

that in her demigod career.

She should have a badge made and wear it

around to save time. When she died, the

words would probably be written on her

tombstone: There were too many of them.

Her greyhounds stood on either side of

her, growling at the earthen shells. Reyna

counted at least twenty, closing in from every

direction.

Coach Hedge continued to speak in a very

womanly voice: ‘ The dead always

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outnumber the living. These spirits have

waited centuries, unable to express their an-

ger. Now I have given them bodies of earth. ’

One earthen ghost stepped forward. It

moved slowly, but its footfall was so heavy it

cracked the ancient tiles.

‘Nico?’ Reyna called.

‘I can’t control them,’ he said, frantically

untangling his harness. ‘Something about

the rock shells, I guess. I need a couple of

seconds to concentrate on making the

shadow-jump. Otherwise I might teleport us

into another volcano.’

Reyna cursed under her breath. There was

no way she could fight off so many by herself

while Nico prepared their escape, especially

with Coach Hedge out of commission. ‘Use

the sceptre,’ she said. ‘Get me some zombies.’

‘ It will not help,’ Coach Hedge intoned.

‘ Stand aside, Praetor. Let the ghosts of

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Pompeii destroy this Greek statue. A true

Roman would not resist. ’

The earthen ghosts shuffled forward.

Through their mouth holes, they made hol-

low whistling noises¸ like someone blowing

across empty soda bottles. One stepped on

the coach’s dagger-tennis-racket trap and

smashed it to pieces.

From his belt, Nico pulled the sceptre of

Diocletian. ‘Reyna, if I summon more dead

Romans … who’s to say they won’t join this

mob?’

‘ I say. I am a praetor. Get me some legionnaires, and I’ll control them.’

‘ You shall perish,’ said the coach. ‘ You shall never –’

Reyna smacked him on the head with the

pommel of her knife. The satyr crumpled.

‘Sorry, Coach,’ she muttered. ‘That was

getting tiresome. Nico – zombies! Then con-

centrate on getting us out of here.’

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Nico raised his sceptre and the ground

trembled.

The earthen ghosts chose that moment to

charge. Aurum leaped at the nearest one and

literally bit the creature’s head off with his

metal fangs. The rock shell toppled back-

wards and shattered.

Argentum was not so lucky. He sprang at

another ghost, which swung its heavy arm

and bashed the greyhound in his face. Ar-

gentum went flying. He staggered to his feet.

His head was twisted forty-five degrees to

the right. One of his ruby eyes was missing.

Anger hammered in Reyna’s chest like a

hot spike. She’d already lost her pegasus. She

was not going to lose her dogs, too. She

slashed her knife through the ghost’s chest,

then drew her gladius. Strictly speaking,

fighting with two blades wasn’t very Roman,

but Reyna had spent time with pirates. She’d

picked up more than a few tricks.

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The earthen shells crumbled easily, but

they hit like sledgehammers. Reyna didn’t

understand how, but she knew she couldn’t

afford to take even one blow. Unlike Ar-

gentum, she wouldn’t survive getting her

head knocked sideways.

‘Nico!’ She ducked between two earthen

ghosts, allowing them to smash each other’s

heads in. ‘Any time now!’

The ground split open down the centre of

the courtyard. Dozens of skeletal soldiers

clawed their way to the surface. Their shields

looked like giant corroded pennies. Their

blades were more rust than metal. But Reyna

had never been so relieved to see

reinforcements.

‘Legion!’ she shouted. ‘ Ad aciem ! ’

The zombies responded, pushing through

the earthen ghosts to form a battle line.

Some fell, crushed by stone fists. Others

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managed to close ranks and raise their

shields.

Behind her, Nico cursed.

Reyna risked a backward glance. The

sceptre of Diocletian was smoking in Nico’s

hands.

‘It’s fighting me!’ he yelled. ‘I don’t think it

likes summoning Romans to fight other

Romans!’

Reyna knew that Ancient Romans had

spent at least half their time fighting each

other, but she decided not to bring that up.

‘Just secure Coach Hedge. Get ready to

shadow-travel! I’ll buy you some –’

Nico yelped. The sceptre of Diocletian ex-

ploded into pieces. Nico didn’t look hurt, but

he stared at Reyna in shock. ‘I – I don’t know

what happened. You’ve got a few minutes,

tops, before your zombies disappear.’

‘Legion!’ Reyna shouted. ‘ Orbem formate!

Gladium signe! ’

165/982

The zombies circled the Athena Parthenos,

their swords ready for close-quarters fight-

ing. Argentum dragged the unconscious

Coach Hedge over to Nico, who was furiously

strapping himself into the harness. Aurum

stood guard, lunging at any earth ghosts who

broke through the line.

Reyna fought shoulder to shoulder with

the dead legionnaires, sending her strength

into their ranks. She knew it wouldn’t be

enough. The earthen ghosts fell easily, but

more kept rising from the ground in swirls of

ash. Each time their stone fists connected,

another zombie went down.

Meanwhile, the Athena Parthenos towered

over the battle – regal, haughty and

unconcerned.

A little help would be nice, Reyna thought.

Maybe a destructo-ray? Or some good old-

fashioned smiting.

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The statue did nothing except radiate

hatred, which seemed directed equally at

Reyna and the attacking ghosts.

You want to lug me to Long Island? the

statue seemed to say. Good luck with that,

Roman scum.

Reyna’s destiny: to die defending a

passive-aggressive goddess.

She kept fighting, extending more of her

will into the undead troops. In return, they

bombarded her with their despair and

resentment.

You fight for nothing, the zombie legion-

naires whispered in her mind. The empire is

gone.

‘For Rome!’ Reyna cried hoarsely. She

slashed her gladius through one earthen

ghost and stabbed her dagger in another’s

chest. ‘Twelfth Legion Fulminata!’

All around her, zombies fell. Some were

crushed in battle. Others disintegrated on

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their own as the residual power of

Diocletian’s sceptre finally failed.

The earthen ghosts closed in – a sea of

misshapen faces with hollow eyes.

‘Reyna, now!’ Nico yelled. ‘We’re leaving!’

She glanced back. Nico had harnessed

himself to the Athena Parthenos. He held the

unconscious Gleeson Hedge in his arms like

a damsel in distress. Aurum and Argentum

had disappeared – perhaps too badly dam-

aged to continue fighting.

Reyna stumbled.

A rock fist gave her a glancing blow to the

ribcage, and her side erupted in pain. Her

head swam. She tried to breathe, but it was

like inhaling knives.

‘Reyna!’ Nico shouted again.

The Athena Parthenos flickered, about to

disappear.

168/982

An earthen ghost swung at Reyna’s head.

She managed to dodge, but the pain in her

ribs almost made her black out.

Give up, said the voices in her head. The legacy of Rome is dead and buried, just like

Pompeii.

‘No,’ she murmured to herself. ‘Not while

I’m still alive.’

Nico stretched out his hand as he slipped

into the shadows. With the last of her

strength, Reyna leaped towards him.

I X

Leo

LEO DIDN’T WANT TO COME OUT OF THE WALL.

He had three more braces to attach, and

nobody else was skinny enough to fit in the

crawl space. (One of the many advantages of

being scrawny.)

Wedged between the layers of the hull with

the plumbing and wiring, Leo could be alone

with his thoughts. When he got frustrated,

which happened about every five seconds, he

could hit stuff with his mallet and the other

crew members would figure he was working,

not throwing a tantrum.

171/982

One problem with his sanctuary: he only

fitted up to his waist. His butt and legs were

still on view to the general public, which

made it hard for him to hide.

‘Leo!’ Piper’s voice came from somewhere

behind him. ‘We need you.’

The Celestial bronze O-ring slipped out of

Leo’s pliers and slid into the depths of the

crawl space.

Leo sighed. ‘Talk to the pants, Piper!

’Cause the hands are busy!’

‘I am not talking to the pants. Meeting in the mess hall. We’re almost at Olympia.’

‘Yeah, fine. I’ll be there in a sec.’

‘What are you doing, anyway? You’ve been

poking around inside the hull for days.’

Leo swept his flashlight across the Celesti-

all bronze plates and pistons he’d been in-

stalling slowly but surely. ‘Routine

maintenance.’

172/982

Silence. Piper was a little too good at

knowing when he was lying. ‘Leo –’

‘Hey, while you’re out there, do me a fa-

vour. I got this itch right below my –’

‘Fine, I’m leaving!’

Leo allowed himself a couple more

minutes to fasten the brace. His work wasn’t

done. Not by a long shot. But he was making

progress.

Of course, he’d laid the groundwork for his

secret project when he first built the Argo II, but he hadn’t told anyone about it. He had

barely been honest with himself about what

he was doing.

Nothing lasts forever, his dad once told

him. Not even the best machines.

Yeah, okay, maybe that was true. But

Hephaestus had also said, Everything can be reused. Leo intended to test that theory.

173/982

It was a dangerous risk. If he failed, it

would crush him. Not just emotionally. It

would physically crush him.

The thought made him claustrophobic.

He wriggled out of the crawl space and

went back into his cabin.

Well … technically it was his cabin, but he didn’t sleep there. The mattress was littered

with wires, nails and the guts of several dis-

assembled bronze machines. His three

massive rolling tool cabinets – Chico, Harpo

and Groucho – took up most of the room.

Dozens of power tools hung on the walls. The

worktable was piled with photocopied blue-

prints from On Spheres, the forgotten

Archimedes text Leo had liberated from an

underground workshop in Rome.

Even if he wanted to sleep in his cabin, it

would’ve been too cramped and dangerous.

He preferred to bed down in the engine

room, where the constant hum of machinery

174/982

helped him fall asleep. Besides, ever since his

time on the island of Ogygia, he had become

fond of camping out. A bedroll on the floor

was all he needed.

His cabin was only for storage … and for

working on his most difficult projects.

He pulled his keys from his tool belt. He

didn’t really have time, but he unlocked

Groucho’s middle drawer and stared at the

two precious objects inside: a bronze astro-

labe he’d picked up in Bologna, and a fist-

sized chunk of crystal from Ogygia. Leo

hadn’t figured out how to put the two things

together yet, and it was driving him crazy.

He’d been hoping to get some answers

when they visited Ithaca. After all, it was the

home of Odysseus, the dude who had con-

structed the astrolabe. But, judging from

what Jason had said, those ruins hadn’t held

any answers for him – just a bunch of ill-

tempered ghouls and ghosts.

175/982

Anyway, Odysseus never got the astrolabe

to work. He hadn’t had a crystal to use as a

homing beacon. Leo did. He would have to

succeed where the cleverest demigod of all

time had failed.

Just Leo’s luck. A super-hot immortal girl

was waiting for him on Ogygia, but he

couldn’t figure out how to wire a stupid

chunk of rock into the three-thousand-year-

old navigation device. Some problems even

duct tape couldn’t solve.

Leo closed the drawer and locked it.

His eyes drifted to the bulletin board

above his worktable, where two pictures

hung side by side. The first was the old cray-

on drawing he’d made when he was seven

years old – a diagram of a flying ship he’d

seen in his dreams. The second was a char-

coal sketch Hazel had recently made for him.

Hazel Levesque … that girl was something.

As soon as Leo rejoined the crew in Malta,

176/982

she’d known right away that Leo was hurting

inside. The first chance she got, after all that

mess in the House of Hades, she’d marched

into Leo’s cabin and said, ‘Spill.’

Hazel was a good listener. Leo told her the

whole story. Later that evening, Hazel came

back with her sketch pad and her charcoal

pencils. ‘Describe her,’ she insisted. ‘Every

detail.’

It felt a little weird helping Hazel make a

portrait of Calypso – as if he were talking to a police artist: Yes, officer, that’s the girl

who stole my heart! Sounded like a freaking country song.

But describing Calypso had been easy. Leo

couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her.

Now her likeness gazed back at him from

the bulletin board – her almond-shaped

eyes, her pouty lips, her long straight hair

swept over one shoulder of her sleeveless

dress. He could almost smell her cinnamon

177/982

fragrance. Her knitted brow and the down-

ward turn of her mouth seemed to say, Leo

Valdez, you are so full of it.

Dang, he loved that woman!

Leo had pinned her portrait next to the

drawing of the Argo II to remind himself

that sometimes visions do come true. As a

little kid, he’d dreamed about a flying ship.

Eventually he built it. Now he would build a

way to get back to Calypso.

The hum of the ship’s engines changed to a

lower pitch. Over the cabin loudspeaker, Fes-

tus’s voice creaked and squeaked.

‘Yeah, thanks, buddy,’ Leo said. ‘On my

way.’

The ship was descending, which meant

Leo’s projects would have to wait.

‘Sit tight, Sunshine,’ he told Calypso’s pic-

ture. ‘I’ll get back to you, just like I

promised.’

178/982

Leo could imagine her response: I am not

waiting for you, Leo Valdez. I am not in love with you. And I certainly don’t believe your

foolish promises!

The thought made him smile. He slipped

his keys back into his tool belt and headed

for the mess hall.

The other six demigods were eating

breakfast.

Once upon a time, Leo would have worried

about all of them being together belowdecks

with nobody at the helm, but ever since Piper

had permanently woken up Festus with her

charmspeak – a feat Leo still did not understand – the dragon figurehead had been

more than capable of running the Argo II by himself. Festus could navigate, check the

radar, make a blueberry smoothie and spew

white-hot jets of fire at invaders – simultan-

eously – without even blowing a circuit.

179/982

Besides, they had Buford the Wonder

Table as backup.

After Coach Hedge left on his shadow-

travel expedition, Leo had decided that his

three-legged table could do just as good a job

as their ‘adult chaperone’. He had laminated

Buford’s tabletop with a magic scroll that

projected a pint-sized holographic simula-

tion of Coach Hedge. Mini-Hedge would

stomp around on Buford’s top, randomly

saying things like ‘CUT THAT OUT!’ ‘I’M

GONNA KILL YOU!’ and the ever-popular

‘PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!’

Today, Buford was manning the helm. If

Festus’s flames didn’t scare away the mon-

sters, Buford’s holographic Hedge definitely

would.

Leo stood in the doorway of the mess hall,

taking in the scene around the dining table.

It wasn’t often he got to see all his friends

together.

180/982

Percy was eating a huge stack of blue pan-

cakes (what was his deal with blue food?)

while Annabeth chided him for pouring on

too much syrup.

‘You’re drowning them!’ she complained.

‘Hey, I’m a Poseidon kid,’ he said. ‘I can’t drown. And neither can my pancakes.’

To their left, Frank and Hazel used their

cereal bowls to flatten out a map of Greece.

They looked over it, their heads close togeth-

er. Every once in a while Frank’s hand would

cover Hazel’s, just sweet and natural like

they were an old married couple, and Hazel

didn’t even look flustered, which was real

progress for a girl from the 1940s. Until re-

cently, if somebody said gosh darn, she

would nearly faint.

At the head of the table, Jason sat uncom-

fortably with his T-shirt rolled up to his rib-

cage as Nurse Piper changed his bandages.

‘Hold still,’ she said. ‘I know it hurts.’

181/982

‘It’s just cold,’ he said.

Leo could hear the pain in his voice. That

stupid gladius blade had pierced him all the way through. The entrance wound on his

back was an ugly shade of purple and it

steamed. Probably not a good sign.

Piper tried to stay positive, but privately

she had told Leo how worried she was. Am-

brosia, nectar and mortal medicine could

only help so much. A deep cut from Celestial

bronze or Imperial gold could literally dis-

solve a demigod’s essence from the inside

out. Jason might get better. He claimed he felt better. But Piper wasn’t so sure.

Too bad Jason wasn’t a metal automaton.

At least then Leo would have some idea of

how to help his best friend. But with humans

… Leo felt helpless. They broke way too

easily.

He loved his friends. He’d do anything for

them. But as he looked at the six of them –

182/982

three couples, all focused on each other – he

thought about the warning from Nemesis,

the revenge goddess: You will not find a

place among your brethren. You will always

be the seventh wheel.

He was starting to think Nemesis was

right. Assuming Leo lived long enough, as-

suming his crazy secret plan worked, his des-

tiny was with somebody else, on an island

that no man ever found twice.

But for now the best he could do was to

follow his old rule: Keep moving. Don’t get bogged down. Don’t think about the bad

stuff. Smile and joke even when you don’t

feel like it. Especially when you don’t feel like it.

‘What’s up, guys?’ He strolled into the

mess hall. ‘Aw, yes to brownies!’

He grabbed the last one – from a special

sea-salt recipe they’d picked up from Aphros

the fish centaur at the bottom of the Atlantic.

183/982

The intercom crackled. Buford’s Mini-

Hedge yelled over the speakers, ‘PUT SOME

CLOTHES ON!’

Everyone jumped. Hazel ended up five feet

away from Frank. Percy spilled syrup in his

orange juice. Jason awkwardly wriggled back

into his T-shirt, and Frank turned into a

bulldog.

Piper glared at Leo. ‘I thought you were

getting rid of that stupid hologram.’

‘Hey, Buford’s just saying good morning.

He loves his hologram! Besides, we all miss

the coach. And Frank makes a cute bulldog.’

Frank morphed back into a burly, grumpy

Chinese Canadian dude. ‘Just sit down, Leo.

We’ve got stuff to talk about.’

Leo squeezed in between Jason and Hazel.

He figured they were the least likely to smack

him if he made bad jokes. He took a bite of

his brownie and grabbed a pack of Italian

junk food – Fonzies – to round out his

184/982

balanced breakfast. He’d become kind of ad-

dicted to the things since buying some in Bo-

logna. They were cheesy and corny – two of

his favourite qualities.

‘So …’ Jason winced as he leaned forward.

‘We’re going to stay airborne and drop an-

chor as close as we can to Olympia. It’s fur-

ther inland than I’d like – about five miles –

but we don’t have much choice. According to

Juno, we have to find the goddess of victory

and, um … subdue her.’

Uncomfortable silence around the table.

With the new drapes covering the holo-

graphic walls, the mess hall was darker and

gloomier than it should’ve been, but that

couldn’t be helped. Ever since the Kerkopes

dwarf twins had short-circuited the walls,

the real-time video feed from Camp Half-

Blood often fuzzed out, changing into play-

back of extreme dwarf close-ups – red

whiskers, nostrils and bad dental work. It

185/982

wasn’t helpful when you were trying to eat or

have a serious conversation about the fate of

the world.

Percy sipped his syrup-flavoured orange

juice. He seemed to find it okay. ‘I’m cool

with fighting the occasional goddess, but

isn’t Nike one of the good ones? I mean, personally, I like victory. I can’t get enough of it.’

Annabeth drummed her fingers on the

table. ‘It does seem strange. I understand

why Nike would be in Olympia – home of the

Olympics and all that. The contestants sacri-

ficed to her. Greeks and Romans worshipped

her there for, like, twelve hundred years,

right?’

‘Almost to the end of the Roman Empire,’

Frank agreed. ‘Romans called her Victoria,

but same difference. Everybody loved her.

Who doesn’t like to win? Not sure why we

would have to subdue her.’

186/982

Jason frowned. A wisp of steam curled

from the wound under his shirt. ‘All I know

… the ghoul Antinous said, Victory runs

rampant in Olympia. Juno warned us that

we could never heal the rift between the

Greeks and Romans unless we defeated

victory.’

‘How do we defeat victory?’ Piper

wondered. ‘Sounds like one of those im-

possible riddles.’

‘Like making stones fly,’ Leo said, ‘or eat-

ing only one Fonzie.’

He popped a handful into his mouth.

Hazel wrinkled her nose. ‘That stuff is go-

ing to kill you.’

‘You kidding? So many preservatives in

these things, I’ll live forever. But, hey, about

this victory goddess being popular and great

– Don’t you guys remember what her kids

are like at Camp Half-Blood?’

187/982

Hazel and Frank had never been to Camp

Half-Blood, but the others nodded gravely.

‘He’s got a point,’ Percy said. ‘Those kids

in Cabin Seventeen – they’re super- compet-

itive. When it comes to capture the flag,

they’re almost worse than the Ares kids. Uh, no offence, Frank.’

Frank shrugged. ‘You’re saying Nike has a

dark side?’

‘Her kids sure do,’ Annabeth said. ‘They

never turn down a challenge. They have to

be number one at everything. If their mom is

that intense …’

‘Whoa.’ Piper put her hands on the table

like the ship was rocking. ‘Guys, all the gods

are split between their Greek and Roman as-

pects, right? If Nike’s that way and she’s the

goddess of victory –’

‘She’d be really conflicted,’ Annabeth said.

‘She’d want one side or the other to win so

188/982

she could declare a victor. She’d literally be

fighting with herself.’

Hazel nudged her cereal bowl across the

map of Greece. ‘But we don’t want one side or the other to win. We’ve got to get the

Greeks and Romans on the same team.’

‘Maybe that’s the problem,’ Jason said. ‘If

the goddess of victory is running rampant,

torn between Greek and Roman, she might

make it impossible to bring the two camps

together.’

‘How?’ Leo asked. ‘Start a flame war on

Twitter?’

Percy stabbed at his pancakes. ‘Maybe

she’s like Ares. That guy can spark a fight

just by walking into a crowded room. If Nike

radiates competitive vibes or something, she

could aggravate the whole Greek–Roman

rivalry big-time.’

Frank pointed at Percy. ‘You remember

that old sea god in Atlanta – Phorcys? He 189/982

said that Gaia’s plans always have lots of lay-

ers. This could be part of the giants’ strategy

– keep the two camps divided; keep the gods

divided. If that’s the case, we can’t let Nike

play us against each other. We should send a

landing party of four – two Greeks, two Ro-

mans. The balance might help keep her

balanced.’

Listening to Zhang, Leo had one of those

double-take moments. He couldn’t believe

how much the guy had changed in the last

few weeks.

Frank wasn’t just taller and buffer. He was

more confident now, more willing to take

charge. Maybe that was because his magic

firewood lifeline was safely stashed away in a

flameproof pouch, or maybe it was because

he’d commanded a zombie legion and been

promoted to praetor. Whatever the case, Leo

had trouble seeing him as the same klutzy

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dude who’d once iguanaed his way out of

Chinese handcuffs.

‘I think Frank is right,’ Annabeth said. ‘A

party of four. We’ll have to be careful who

goes. We don’t want to do anything that

might make the goddess, um, more

unstable.’

‘I’ll go,’ Piper said. ‘I can try

charmspeaking.’

Worry lines deepened around Annabeth’s

eyes. ‘Not this time, Piper. Nike is all about

competition. Aphrodite … well, she is too, in

her own way. I think Nike might see you as a

threat.’

Once, Leo might have made a joke about

that. Piper a threat? The girl was like a sister to him, but, if he needed help beating up a

gang of thugs or subduing a victory goddess,

Piper was not the first person he’d turn to.

Recently, though … well, Piper may not

have changed as obviously as Frank, but she

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had changed. She had stabbed Khione the

snow goddess in the chest. She had defeated

the Boreads. She’d slashed up a flock of wild

harpies singlehandedly. As for her charm-

speak, she’d become so powerful it made Leo

nervous. If she told him to eat his vegetables,

he might actually do it.

Annabeth’s words didn’t seem to upset

her. Piper just nodded and scanned the

group. ‘Who should go, then?’

‘Jason and Percy shouldn’t go together,’

Annabeth said. ‘Jupiter and Poseidon – bad

combination. Nike could start you two fight-

ing easily.’

Percy gave her a sideways smile. ‘Yeah, we

can’t have another incident like in Kansas. I

might kill my bro Jason.’

‘Or I might kill my bro Percy,’ Jason said

amiably.

‘Which proves my point,’ Annabeth said.

‘We also shouldn’t send Frank and me

192/982

together. Mars and Athena – that would be just as bad.’

‘Okay,’ Leo broke in. ‘So Percy and me for

the Greeks. Frank and Hazel for the Romans.

Is that the ultimate non-competitive dream

team or what?’

Annabeth and Frank exchanged war-godly

looks.

‘It could work,’ Frank decided. ‘I mean, no

combination is going to be perfect, but Pos-

eidon, Hephaestus, Pluto, Mars … I don’t see

any huge antagonism there.’

Hazel traced her finger along the map of

Greece. ‘I still wish we could’ve gone through

the Gulf of Corinth. I was hoping we could

visit Delphi, maybe get some advice. Plus it’s

such a long way around the Peloponnese.’

‘Yeah.’ Leo’s heart sank when he looked at

how much coastline they still had to navig-

ate. ‘It’s July twenty-second already. Count-

ing today, only ten days until –’

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‘I know,’ Jason said. ‘But Juno was clear.

The shorter way would have been suicide.’

‘And as for Delphi …’ Piper leaned towards

the map. The blue harpy feather in her hair

swung like a pendulum. ‘What’s going on

there? If Apollo doesn’t have his Oracle any

more …’

Percy grunted. ‘Probably something to do

with that creep Octavian. Maybe he was so

bad at telling the future that he broke

Apollo’s powers.’

Jason managed a smile, though his eyes

were cloudy from pain. ‘Hopefully we can

find Apollo and Artemis. Then you can ask

him yourself. Juno said the twins might be

willing to help us.’

‘A lot of unanswered questions,’ Frank

muttered. ‘A lot of miles to cover before we

get to Athens.’

‘First things first,’ Annabeth said. ‘You

guys have to find Nike and figure out how to

194/982

subdue her … whatever Juno meant by that.

I still don’t understand how you defeat a

goddess who controls victory. Seems

impossible.’

Leo started to grin. He couldn’t help it.

Sure, they only had ten days to stop the gi-

ants from waking Gaia. Sure, he could die

before dinnertime. But he loved being told

that something was impossible. It was like

someone handing him a lemon meringue pie

and telling him not to throw it. He just

couldn’t resist the challenge.

‘We’ll see about that.’ He rose to his feet.

‘Let me get my collection of grenades and I’ll

meet you guys on deck!’

X

Leo

‘SMART CALL BACK THERE,’ Percy said,

‘choosing the air-conditioning.’

He and Leo had just searched the mu-

seum. Now they were sitting on a bridge that

spanned the Kladeos River, their feet

dangling over the water as they waited for

Frank and Hazel to finish scouting the ruins.

To their left, the Olympic valley

shimmered in the afternoon heat. To their

right, the visitors’ lot was crammed with tour

buses. Good thing the Argo II was moored a hundred feet in the air, because they never

would’ve found parking.

197/982

Leo skipped a stone across the river. He

wished Hazel and Frank would get back. He

felt awkward hanging out with Percy.

For one thing, he wasn’t sure what kind of

small talk to make with a guy who’d recently

come back from Tartarus. Catch that last

episode of Doctor Who ? Oh, right. You were trudging through the Pit of Eternal

Damnation!

Percy had been intimidating enough be-

fore – summoning hurricanes, duelling pir-

ates, killing giants in the Colosseum …

Now … well, after what happened in Tar-

tarus, it seemed like Percy had graduated to

a totally different level of butt-kickery.

Leo had trouble even thinking of him as

part of the same camp. The two of them had

never been at Camp Half-Blood at the same

time. Percy’s leather necklace had four beads

for four completed summers. Leo’s leather

necklace had exactly none.

198/982

The only thing they had in common was

Calypso, and every time Leo thought about

that he wanted to punch Percy in the face.

Leo kept thinking he should bring it up,

just to clear the air, but the timing never

seemed right. And, as the days went by, the

subject got harder and harder to broach.

‘What?’ Percy asked.

Leo stirred. ‘What, what?’

‘You were staring at me, like, angry. ’

‘Was I?’ Leo tried to muster a joke, or at

least a smile, but he couldn’t. ‘Um, sorry.’

Percy gazed at the river. ‘I suppose we

need to talk.’ He opened his hand and the

stone Leo had skipped flew out of the

stream, right into Percy’s palm.

Oh, Leo thought, we’re showing off now?

He considered shooting a column of fire at

the nearest tour bus and blowing up the gas

tank, but he decided that might be a tad dra-

matic. ‘Maybe we should talk. But not –’

199/982

‘Guys!’ Frank stood at the far end of the

parking lot, waving at them to come over.

Next to him, Hazel sat astride her horse Ari-

on, who had appeared unannounced as soon

as they’d landed.

Saved by the Zhang, Leo thought.

He and Percy jogged over to meet their

friends.

‘This place is huge,’ Frank reported. ‘The ru-

ins stretch from the river to the base of that

mountain over there, about half a kilometre.’

‘How far is that in regular measurements?’

Percy asked.

Frank rolled his eyes. ‘That is a regular

measurement in Canada and the rest of the

world. Only you Americans –’

‘About five or six football fields,’ Hazel in-

terceded, feeding Arion a big chunk of gold.

Percy spread his hands. ‘That’s all you

needed to say.’

200/982

‘Anyway,’ Frank continued, ‘from over-

head, I didn’t see anything suspicious.’

‘Neither did I,’ Hazel said. ‘Arion took me

on a complete loop around the perimeter. A

lot of tourists, but no crazy goddess.’

The big stallion nickered and tossed his

head, his neck muscles rippling under his

butterscotch coat.

‘Man, your horse can cuss.’ Percy shook

his head. ‘He doesn’t think much of

Olympia.’

For once, Leo agreed with the horse. He

didn’t like the idea of tromping through

fields full of ruins under a blazing sun, shov-

ing his way through hordes of sweaty tourists

while searching for a split-personality victory

goddess. Besides, Frank had already flown

over the whole valley as an eagle. If his sharp

eyes hadn’t seen anything, maybe there was

nothing to see.

201/982

On the other hand, Leo’s tool-belt pockets

were full of dangerous toys. He would hate to

go home without blowing anything up.

‘So we blunder around together,’ he said,

‘and let trouble find us. It’s always worked

before.’

They poked about for a while, avoiding

tour groups and ducking from one patch of

shade to the next. Not for the first time, Leo

was struck by how similar Greece was to his

home state of Texas – the low hills, the

scrubby trees, the drone of cicadas and the

oppressive summer heat. Switch out the an-

cient columns and ruined temples for cows

and barbed wire, and Leo would’ve felt right

at home.

Frank found a tourist pamphlet (seriously,

that dude would read the ingredients on a

soup can) and gave them a running com-

mentary on what was what.

202/982

‘This is the Propylon.’ He waved towards a stone path lined with crumbling columns.

‘One of the main gates into the Olympic

valley.’

‘Rubble!’ said Leo.

‘And over there –’ Frank pointed to a

square foundation that looked like the patio

for a Mexican restaurant – ‘is the Temple of

Hera, one of the oldest structures here.’

‘More rubble!’ Leo said.

‘And that round bandstand-looking thing

– that’s the Philipeon, dedicated to Philip of

Macedonia.’

‘Even more rubble! First-rate rubble!’

Hazel, who was still riding Arion, kicked

Leo in the arm. ‘Doesn’t anything impress

you?’

Leo glanced up. Her curly gold-brown hair

and golden eyes matched her helmet and

sword so well she might’ve been engineered

from Imperial gold. Leo doubted Hazel

203/982

would consider that a compliment, but, as

far as humans went, Hazel was first-rate

craftsmanship.

Leo remembered their trip together

through the House of Hades. Hazel had led

him through that creepy maze of illusions.

She’d made the sorceress Pasiphaë disappear

through an imaginary hole in the floor. She’d

battled the giant Clytius while Leo choked in

the giant’s cloud of darkness. She’d cut the

chains binding the Doors of Death. Mean-

while Leo had done … well, pretty much

nothing.

He wasn’t infatuated with Hazel any more.

His heart was far away on the island of Ogy-

gia. Still, Hazel Levesque impressed him –

even when she wasn’t sitting atop a scary immortal supersonic horse who cussed like a

sailor.

204/982

He didn’t say any of this, but Hazel must

have picked up on his thoughts. She looked

away, flustered.

Happily oblivious, Frank continued his

guided tour. ‘And over there … oh.’ He

glanced at Percy. ‘Uh, that semicircular de-

pression in the hill, with the niches … that’s a

nymphaeum, built in Roman times.’

Percy’s face turned the colour of limeade.

‘Here’s an idea: let’s not go there.’

Leo had heard all about his near-death ex-

perience in the nymphaeum in Rome with

Jason and Piper. ‘I love that idea.’

They kept walking.

Once in a while, Leo’s hands drifted to his

tool belt. Ever since the Kerkopes had stolen

it in Bologna, he was scared he might get

belt-jacked again, though he doubted any

monster was as good at thievery as those

dwarfs. He wondered how the little crud

monkeys were doing in New York. He hoped

205/982

they were still having fun harassing Romans,

stealing lots of shiny zippers and causing le-

gionnaires’ trousers to fall down.

‘This is the Pelopion,’ Frank said, pointing

to another fascinating pile of stones.

‘Come on, Zhang,’ Leo said. ‘ Pelopion isn’t even a word. What was it – a sacred spot for

plopping?’

Frank looked offended. ‘It’s the burial site

of Pelops. This whole part of Greece, the Peloponnese, was named after him.’

Leo resisted the urge to throw a grenade in

Frank’s face. ‘I suppose I should know who

Pelops was?’

‘He was a prince, won his wife in a chariot

race. Supposedly he started the Olympic

games in honour of that.’

Hazel sniffed. ‘How romantic. “Nice wife

you have, Prince Pelops.” “Thanks. I won her

in a chariot race.” ’

206/982

Leo didn’t see how any of this was helping

them find the victory goddess. At the mo-

ment, the only victory he wanted was to van-

quish an ice-cold drink and maybe some

nachos.

Still … the further they got into the ruins,

the more uneasy he felt. He flashed back to

one of his earliest memories – his babysitter

Tía Callida, a.k.a. Hera, encouraging him to

prod a poisonous snake with a stick when he

was four years old. The psycho goddess told

him it was good training for being a hero,

and maybe she’d been right. These days Leo

spent most of his time poking around until

he found trouble.

He scanned the crowds of tourists, won-

dering if they were regular mortals or mon-

sters in disguise, like those eidolons who’d chased them in Rome. Every so often he

thought he saw a familiar face – his bully

cousin, Raphael; his mean third-grade

207/982

teacher, Mr Borquin; his abusive foster

mom, Teresa – all kinds of people who had

treated Leo like dirt.

Probably he just imagined their faces, but

it made him edgy. He remembered how the

goddess Nemesis had appeared as his Aunt

Rosa, the person Leo most resented and

wanted revenge on. He wondered if Nemesis

was around here somewhere, watching to see

what Leo would do. He still wasn’t sure he’d

paid his debt to that goddess. He suspected

she wanted more suffering from him. Maybe

today was the day.

They stopped at some wide steps leading

to another ruined building – the Temple of

Zeus, according to Frank.

‘Used to be a huge gold-and-ivory statue of

Zeus inside,’ Zhang said. ‘One of the seven

wonders of the ancient world. Made by the

same dude who did the Athena Parthenos.’

208/982

‘Please tell me we don’t have to find it,’

Percy said. ‘I’ve had enough huge magic

statues for one trip.’

‘Agreed.’ Hazel patted Arion’s flank, as the

stallion was acting skittish.

Leo felt like whinnying and stomping his

hooves, too. He was hot and agitated and

hungry. He felt like they’d prodded the pois-

onous snake about as much as they could

and the snake was about strike back. He

wanted to call it a day and return to the ship

before that happened.

Unfortunately, when Frank mentioned

Temple of Zeus and statue, Leo’s brain had made a connection. Against his better judge-ment, he shared it.

‘Hey, Percy,’ he said, ‘remember that

statue of Nike in the museum? The one that

was all in pieces?’

‘Yeah?’

209/982

‘Didn’t it used to stand here, at the Temple of Zeus? Feel free to tell me I’m wrong. I’d

love to be wrong.’

Percy’s hand went to his pocket. He

slipped out his pen, Riptide. ‘You’re right. So

if Nike was anywhere … this would be a good

spot.’

Frank scanned their surroundings. ‘I don’t

see anything.’

‘What if we promoted, like, Adidas shoes?’

Percy wondered. ‘Would that make Nike mad

enough to show up?’

Leo smiled nervously. Maybe he and Percy

did share something else – a stupid sense of

humour. ‘Yeah, I bet that would totally be against her sponsorship deal. THOSE ARE

NOT THE OFFICIAL SHOES OF THE

OLYMPICS! YOU WILL DIE NOW!’

Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘You’re both

impossible.’

210/982

Behind Leo, a thunderous voice shook the

ruins: ‘YOU WILL DIE NOW!’

Leo almost jumped out of his tool belt. He

turned … and mentally kicked himself. He

just had to invoke Adidas, the goddess of off-brand shoes.

Towering over him in a golden chariot,

with a spear aimed at his heart, was the god-

dess Nike.

X I

Leo

THE GOLD WINGS WERE OVERKILL.

Leo could dig the chariot and the two

white horses. He was okay with Nike’s glit-

tering sleeveless dress (Calypso totally

rocked that style, but that wasn’t relevant)

and Nike’s piled-up braids of dark hair

circled with a gilded laurel wreath.

Her expression was wide-eyed and a little

crazy, like she’d just had twenty espressos

and ridden a roller coaster, but that didn’t

bother Leo. He could even deal with the

gold-tipped spear pointed at his chest.

213/982

But those wings – they were polished

gold, right down to the last feather. Leo

could admire the intricate workmanship, but

it was too much, too bright, too flashy. If her

wings had been solar panels, Nike would’ve

produced enough energy to power Miami.

‘Lady,’ he said, ‘could you fold your flap-

pers, please? You’re giving me a sunburn.’

‘What?’ Nike’s head jerked towards him

like a startled chicken’s. ‘Oh … my brilliant

plumage. Very well. I suppose you can’t die

in glory if you are blinded and burned.’

She tucked in her wings. The temperature

dropped to a normal hundred-and-twenty-

degree summer afternoon.

Leo glanced at his friends. Frank stood

very still, sizing up the goddess. His back-

pack hadn’t yet morphed into a bow and

quiver, which was probably prudent. He

couldn’t have been too freaked out, because

he’d avoided turning into a giant goldfish.

214/982

Hazel was having trouble with Arion. The

roan stallion nickered and bucked, avoiding

eye contact with the white horses pulling

Nike’s chariot.

As for Percy, he held his magic ballpoint

pen like he was trying to decide whether to

bust out some sword moves or autograph

Nike’s chariot.

Nobody stepped forward to talk. Leo kind

of missed having Piper and Annabeth with

them. They were good at the whole talking

thing.

He decided somebody had better say

something before they all died in glory.

‘So!’ He pointed his index fingers at Nike.

‘I didn’t get the briefing, and I’m pretty sure

the information wasn’t covered in Frank’s

pamphlet. Could you tell me what’s going on

here?’

215/982

Nike’s wide-eyed stare unnerved him. Was

Leo’s nose on fire? That happened some-

times when he got stressed.

‘We must have victory!’ the goddess

shrieked. ‘The contest must be decided! You

have come here to determine the winner,

yes?’

Frank cleared his throat. ‘Are you Nike or

Victoria?’

‘Argghh!’ The goddess clutched the side of

her head. Her horses reared, causing Arion

to do the same.

The goddess shuddered and split into two

separate images, which reminded Leo – ri-

diculously – of when he used to lie on the

floor in his apartment as a kid and play with

the coiled doorstop on the skirting board. He

would pull it back and let it fly: sproing! The stopper would shudder back and forth so fast

it looked like it was splitting into two separ-

ate coils.

216/982

That’s what Nike looked like: a divine

doorstop, splitting in two.

On the left was the first version: glittery

sleeveless dress, dark hair circled with

laurels, golden wings folded behind her. On

the right was a different version, dressed for

war in a Roman breastplate and greaves.

Short auburn hair peeked out from the rim

of a tall helmet. Her wings were feathery

white, her dress purple, and the shaft of her

spear was fixed with a plate-sized Roman in-

signia – a golden SPQR in a laurel wreath.

‘I am Nike!’ cried the image on the left.

‘I am Victoria!’ cried the one on the right.

For the first time, Leo understood the old

saying his abuelo used to use: talking out of the side of your mouth. This goddess was literally saying two different things at once.

She kept shuddering and splitting, making

Leo dizzy. He was tempted to get out his

tools and adjust the idle on her carburettor,

217/982

because that much vibration would make her

engine fly apart.

‘I am the decider of victory!’ Nike

screamed. ‘Once I stood here at the corner of

Zeus’s temple, venerated by all! I oversaw

the games of Olympia. Offerings from every

city-state were piled at my feet!’

‘Games are irrelevant!’ yelled Victoria. ‘I

am the goddess of success in battle! Roman

generals worshipped me! Augustus himself

erected my altar in the Senate House!’

‘Ahhhh!’ both voices screamed in agony.

‘We must decide! We must have victory!’

Arion bucked so violently that Hazel had

to slide off his back to avoid getting thrown.

Before she could calm him down, the horse

disappeared, leaving a vapour trail through

the ruins.

‘Nike,’ Hazel said, stepping forward slowly,

‘you’re confused, like all the gods. The

218/982

Greeks and Romans are on the verge of war.

It’s causing your two aspects to clash.’

‘I know that!’ The goddess shook her

spear, the tip rubber-banding into two

points. ‘I cannot abide unresolved conflict!

Who is stronger? Who is the winner?’

‘Lady, nobody’s the winner,’ Leo said. ‘If

that war happens, everybody loses.’

‘ No winner? ’ Nike looked so shocked, Leo

was pretty sure his nose must be on fire.

‘There is always a winner! One winner.

Everyone else is a loser! Otherwise victory is

meaningless. I suppose you want me to give

certificates to all the contestants? Little

plastic trophies to every single athlete or sol-

dier for participation? Should we all line up and shake hands and tell each other, Good

game? No! Victory must be real. It must be

earned. That means it must be rare and diffi-

cult, against steep odds, and defeat must be the other possibility.’

219/982

The goddess’s two horses nipped at each

other, as if getting into the spirit.

‘Uh … okay,’ Leo said. ‘I can tell you’ve got

strong feelings about that. But the real war is

against Gaia.’

‘He’s right,’ Hazel said. ‘Nike, you were

Zeus’s charioteer in the last war with the gi-

ants, weren’t you?’

‘Of course!’

‘Then you know Gaia is the real enemy. We

need your help to defeat her. The war isn’t

between the Greeks and Romans.’

Victoria roared, ‘The Greeks must perish!’

‘Victory or death!’ Nike wailed. ‘One side

must prevail!’

Frank grunted. ‘I get enough of this from

my dad screaming in my head.’

Victoria glared down at him. ‘A child of

Mars, are you? A praetor of Rome? No true

Roman would spare the Greeks. I cannot

220/982

abide to be split and confused – I cannot

think straight! Kill them! Win!’

‘Not happening,’ Frank said, though Leo

noticed Zhang’s right eye was twitching.

Leo was struggling, too. Nike was sending

off waves of tension, setting his nerves on

fire. He felt like he was crouched at the start-

ing line, waiting for someone to yell ‘Go!’ He

had the irrational desire to wrap his hands

around Frank’s neck, which was stupid, since

his hands wouldn’t even fit around Frank’s neck.

‘Look, Miss Victory …’ Percy tried for a

smile. ‘We don’t want to interrupt your crazy

time. Maybe you can just finish this conver-

sation with yourself and we’ll come back

later, with, um, some bigger weapons and

possibly some sedatives.’

The goddess brandished her spear. ‘You

will determine the matter once and for all!

Today, now, you will decide the victor! Four 221/982

of you? Excellent! We will have teams. Per-

haps girls versus boys!’

Hazel said, ‘Uh … no.’

‘Shirts versus skins!’

‘Definitely no,’ said Hazel.

‘Greeks versus Romans!’ Nike cried. ‘Yes,

of course! Two and two. The last demigod

standing wins. The others will die gloriously.’

A competitive urge pulsed through Leo’s

body. It took all of his effort not to reach in

his tool belt, grab a mallet and whop Hazel

and Frank upside their heads.

He realized how right Annabeth had been

not to send anyone whose parents had natur-

all rivalries. If Jason were here, he and Percy

would probably already be on the ground,

bashing each other’s brains out.

He forced his fists to unclench. ‘Look, lady,

we’re not going to go all Hunger Games on

each other. Isn’t going to happen.’

222/982

‘But you will win a fabulous honour!’ Nike

reached into a basket at her side and pro-

duced a wreath of thick green laurels. ‘This

crown of leaves could be yours! You can wear

it on your head! Think of the glory!’

‘Leo’s right,’ Frank said, though his eyes

were fixed on the wreath. His expression was

a little too greedy for Leo’s taste. ‘We don’t

fight each other. We fight the giants. You

should help us.’

‘Very well!’ The goddess raised the laurel

wreath in one hand and her spear in the

other.

Percy and Leo exchanged looks.

‘Uh … does that mean you’ll join us?’ Percy

asked. ‘You’ll help us fight the giants?’

‘That will be part of the prize,’ Nike said.

‘Whoever wins, I will consider you an ally.

We will fight the giants together, and I will

bestow victory upon you. But there can only

be one winner. The others must be defeated,

223/982

killed, destroyed utterly. So what will it be,

demigods? Will you succeed in your quest, or

will you cling to your namby-pamby ideas of

friendship and everybody wins participation awards?’

Percy uncapped his pen. Riptide grew into

a Celestial bronze sword. Leo was worried he

might turn it on them. Nike’s aura was that

hard to resist.

Instead, Percy pointed his blade at Nike.

‘What if we fight you instead?’

‘Ha!’ Nike’s eyes gleamed. ‘If you refuse to

fight each other, you shall be persuaded!’

Nike spread her golden wings. Four metal

feathers fluttered down, two on either side of

the chariot. The feathers twirled like gym-

nasts, growing larger, sprouting arms and

legs, until they touched the ground as four

metallic, human-sized replicas of the god-

dess, each armed with a golden spear and a

224/982

Celestial bronze laurel wreath that looked

suspiciously like a barbed-wire Frisbee.

‘To the stadium!’ the goddess cried. ‘You

have five minutes to prepare. Then blood

shall be spilled!’

Leo was about to say, What if we refuse to go

to the stadium?

He got his answer before asking the

question.

‘Run!’ Nike bellowed. ‘To the stadium with

you, or my Nikai will kill you where you

stand!’

The metal ladies unhinged their jaws and

blasted out a sound like a Super Bowl crowd

mixed with feedback. They shook their

spears and charged the demigods.

It wasn’t Leo’s finest moment. Panic seized

him, and he took off. His only comfort was

that his friends did, too – and they weren’t

the cowardly type.

225/982

The four metal women swept behind them

in a loose semicircle, herding them to the

northeast. All the tourists had vanished. Per-

haps they’d fled to the air-conditioned com-

fort of the museum, or maybe Nike had

somehow forced them to leave.

The demigods ran, tripping over stones,

leaping over crumbled walls, dodging around

columns and informational placards. Behind

them, Nike’s chariot wheels rumbled and her

horses whinnied.

Every time Leo thought about slowing

down, the metal ladies screamed again –

what had Nike called them? Nikai? Nikettes?

– filling Leo with terror.

He hated being filled with terror. It was

embarrassing.

‘There!’ Frank sprinted towards a kind of

trench between two earthen walls with a

stone archway above. It reminded Leo of

those tunnels that football teams run

226/982

through when they enter the field. ‘That’s the

entrance to the old Olympic stadium. It’s

called the crypt!’

‘Not a good name!’ Leo yelled.

‘Why are we going there?’ Percy gasped. ‘If

that’s where she wants us –’

The Nikettes screamed again and all ra-

tional thought abandoned Leo. He ran for

the tunnel.

When they reached the arch, Hazel yelled,

‘Hold it!’

They stumbled to a stop. Percy doubled

over, wheezing. Leo had noticed that Percy

seemed to get winded more easily these days

– probably because of that nasty acid air he’d

been forced to breathe in Tartarus.

Frank peered back the way they’d come. ‘I

don’t see them any more. They disappeared.’

‘Did they give up?’ Percy asked hopefully.

227/982

Leo scanned the ruins. ‘Nah. They just her-

ded us where they wanted us. What were

those things, anyway? The Nikettes, I mean.’

‘Nikettes?’ Frank scratched his head. ‘I

think it was Nikai, plural, like victories. ’

‘Yes.’ Hazel looked deep in thought, run-

ning her hands along the stone archway. ‘In

some legends, Nike had an army of little vic-

tories she could send all over the world to do

her bidding.’

‘Like Santa’s elves,’ Percy said. ‘Except

evil. And metal. And really loud.’

Hazel pressed her fingers against the arch,

as if taking its pulse. Beyond the narrow tun-

nel, the earthen walls opened into a long

field with gently rising slopes on either side,

like seating for spectators.

Leo guessed it would have been an open-

air stadium back in the day – big enough for

discus-throwing, javelin-catching, naked

228/982

shot-put, or whatever else those crazy Greeks

used to do to win a bunch of leaves.

‘Ghosts linger in this place,’ Hazel mur-

mured. ‘A lot of pain is embedded in these

stones.’

‘Please tell me you have a plan,’ Leo said.

‘Preferably one that doesn’t involve embed-

ding my pain in the stones.’

Hazel’s eyes were stormy and distant, the

way they’d been in the House of Hades – like

she was peering into a different layer of real-

ity. ‘This was the players’ entrance. Nike said

we have five minutes to prepare. Then she’ll

expect us to pass under this archway and be-

gin the games. We won’t be allowed to leave

that field until three of us are dead.’

Percy leaned on his sword. ‘I’m pretty sure

death matches weren’t an Olympic sport.’

‘Well, they are today,’ Hazel warned. ‘But I

might be able to give us an edge. When we

pass through, I could raise some obstacles on

229/982

the field – hiding places to buy us some

time.’

Frank frowned. ‘You mean like on the

Field of Mars – trenches, tunnels, that kind

of thing? You can do that with the Mist?’

‘I think so,’ Hazel said. ‘Nike would prob-

ably like to see an obstacle course. I can play her expectations against her. But it would be

more than that. I can use any subterranean

gateway – even this arch – to access the

Labyrinth. I can raise part of the Labyrinth

to the surface.’

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa.’ Percy made a time-

out sign. ‘The Labyrinth is bad. We discussed this.’

‘Hazel, he’s right.’ Leo remembered all too

well how she’d led him through the illusion-

ary maze in the House of Hades. They’d al-

most died about every six feet. ‘I mean, I

know you’re good with magic. But we’ve

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already got four screaming Nikettes to worry

about –’

‘You’ll have to trust me,’ she said. ‘We’ve

only got a couple of minutes now. When we

pass through the arch, I can at least manipu-

late the playing field to our advantage.’

Percy exhaled through his nose. ‘Twice

now, I’ve been forced to fight in stadiums –

once in Rome, and before that in the

Labyrinth. I hate playing games for people’s

amusement.’

‘We all do,’ Hazel said. ‘But we have to put

Nike off guard. We’ll pretend to fight until

we can neutralize those Nikettes – ugh, that’s

an awful name. Then we subdue Nike, like

Juno said.’

‘Makes sense,’ Frank agreed. ‘You felt how

powerful Nike was, trying to put us at each

other’s throats. If she’s sending out those

vibes to all the Greeks and Romans, there’s

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no way we’ll be able to prevent a war. We’ve

got to get her under control.’

‘And how do we do that?’ Percy asked.

‘Bonk her on the head and stuff her in a

sack?’

Leo’s mental gears started to turn.

‘Actually,’ he said, ‘you’re not far off. Uncle

Leo brought some toys for all you good little

demigods.’

X I I

Leo

TWO MINUTES WASN’T NEARLY ENOUGH TIME.

Leo hoped he’d given everybody the right

gadgets and adequately explained what all

the buttons did. Otherwise things would get

ugly.

While he was lecturing Frank and Percy on

Archimedean mechanics, Hazel stared at the

stone archway and muttered under her

breath.

Nothing seemed to change in the big

grassy field beyond, but Leo was sure Hazel

had some Mistalicious tricks up her sleeve.

234/982

He was just explaining to Frank how to

avoid getting decapitated by his own

Archimedes sphere when the sound of trum-

pets echoed through the stadium. Nike’s

chariot appeared on the field, the Nikettes

arrayed in front of her with their spears and

laurels raised.

‘Begin!’ the goddess bellowed.

Percy and Leo sprinted through the arch-

way. Immediately, the field shimmered and

became a maze of brick walls and trenches.

They ducked behind the nearest wall and ran

to the left. Back at the archway, Frank yelled,

‘Uh, die, Graecus scum!’ A poorly aimed arrow sailed over Leo’s head.

‘More vicious!’ Nike yelled. ‘Kill like you

mean it!’

Leo glanced at Percy. ‘Ready?’

Percy hefted a bronze grenade. ‘I hope you

labelled these right.’ He yelled, ‘Die, Ro-

mans!’ and lobbed the grenade over the wall.

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BOOM! Leo couldn’t see the explosion, but

the smell of buttery popcorn filled the air.

‘Oh, no!’ Hazel wailed. ‘Popcorn! Our fatal

weakness!’

Frank shot another arrow over their heads.

Leo and Percy scrambled to the left, ducking

through a maze of walls that seemed to shift

and turn on their own. Leo could still see

open sky above him, but claustrophobia star-

ted to set in, making it hard for him to

breathe.

Somewhere behind them, Nike yelled, ‘Try

harder! That popcorn was not fatal!’

From the rumble of her chariot wheels,

Leo guessed she was circling the perimeter of

the field – Victory taking a victory lap.

Another grenade exploded over Percy’s

and Leo’s heads. They dived into a trench as

the green starburst of Greek fire singed Leo’s

hair. Fortunately, Frank had aimed high

enough that the blast only looked impressive.

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‘Better,’ Nike called out, ‘but where is your

aim? Don’t you want this circlet of leaves?’

‘I wish the river was closer,’ Percy

muttered. ‘I want to drown her.’

‘Be patient, water boy.’

‘Don’t call me water boy.’

Leo pointed across the field. The walls had

shifted, revealing one of the Nikettes about

thirty yards away, standing with her back to

them. Hazel must be doing her thing – ma-

nipulating the maze to isolate their targets.

‘I distract,’ Leo said, ‘you attack. Ready?’

Percy nodded. ‘Go.’

He dashed to the left as Leo pulled a ball-

peen hammer from his tool belt and yelled,

‘Hey, Bronze Butt!’

The Nikette turned as Leo threw. His ham-

mer clanged harmlessly off the metal lady’s

chest, but she must have been annoyed. She

marched towards him, raising her barbed-

wire laurel wreath.

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‘Oops.’ Leo ducked as the metal circlet

spun over his head. The wreath hit a wall be-

hind him, punching a hole straight through

the bricks, then arced backwards through the

air like a boomerang. As the Nikette raised

her hand to catch it, Percy emerged from the

trench behind her and slashed with Riptide,

cutting the Nikette in half at the waist. The

metal wreath shot past him and embedded in

a marble column.

‘Foul!’ the victory goddess cried. The walls

shifted and Leo saw her barrelling towards

them in her chariot. ‘You don’t attack the

Nikai unless you wish to die!’

A trench appeared in the goddess’s path,

causing her horses to balk. Leo and Percy ran

for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, maybe

fifty feet away, Leo saw Frank the grizzly

bear jump from the top of a wall and flatten

another Nikette. Two Bronze Butts down,

two more to go.

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‘No!’ Nike screamed in outrage. ‘No, no,

no! Your lives are forfeit! Nikai, attack!’

Leo and Percy leaped behind a wall. They

lay there for a second, trying to catch their

breath.

Leo had trouble getting his bearings, but

he guessed that was part of Hazel’s plan. She

was causing the terrain to shift around them

– opening new trenches, changing the slope

of the land, throwing up new walls and

columns. With luck, she would make it

harder for the Nikettes to find them. Travel-

ling just twenty feet might take them several

minutes.

Still, Leo hated being disoriented. It re-

minded him of his helplessness in the House

of Hades – the way Clytius had smothered

him in darkness, snuffing out his fire, pos-

sessing his voice. It reminded him of Khione,

plucking him off the deck of the Argo II with 239/982

a gust of wind and shooting him halfway

across the Mediterranean.

It was bad enough being scrawny and

weak. If Leo couldn’t control his own senses,

his own voice, his own body … that didn’t

leave him much to rely on.

‘Hey,’ Percy said, ‘if we don’t make it out of

this –’

‘Shut up, man. We’re going to make it.’

‘If we don’t, I want you to know – I feel

bad about Calypso. I failed her.’

Leo stared at him, dumbfounded. ‘You

know about me and –’

‘The Argo II is a small ship.’ Percy grim-

aced. ‘Word got around. I just … well, when I

was in Tartarus, I was reminded that I hadn’t

followed through on my promise to Calypso.

I asked the gods to free her and then … I just

assumed they would. With me getting amne-

sia and getting sent to Camp Jupiter and all,

I didn’t think about Calypso much after that.

240/982

I’m not making excuses. I should have made

sure the gods kept their promise. Anyway,

I’m glad you found her. You promised to find

a way back to her, and I just wanted to say, if

we do survive all this, I’ll do anything I can to help you. That’s a promise I will keep.’

Leo was speechless. Here they were, hid-

ing behind a wall in the middle of a magical

war zone, with grenades and grizzly bears

and Bronze Butt Nikettes to worry about,

and Percy pulls this on him.

‘Man, what is your problem?’ Leo

grumbled.

Percy blinked. ‘So … I guess we’re not

cool?’

‘Of course we’re not cool! You’re as bad as

Jason! I’m trying to resent you for being all

perfect and hero-y and whatnot. Then you go

and act like a standup guy. How am I sup-

posed to hate you if you apologize and prom-

ise to help and stuff?’

241/982

A smile tugged at the corner of Percy’s

mouth. ‘Sorry about that.’

The ground rumbled as another grenade

exploded, sending spirals of whipped cream

into the sky. ‘That’s Hazel’s signal,’ Leo said.

‘They’ve taken down another Nikette.’

Percy peeked around the corner of the

wall.

Until this moment, Leo hadn’t realized

how much he’d resented Percy. The dude

had always intimidated him. Knowing

Calypso had had a crush on Percy had made

the feeling ten times worse. But now the knot

of anger in his gut started to unravel. Leo

just couldn’t dislike the guy. Percy seemed

sincere about being sorry and wanting to

help.

Besides, Leo finally had confirmation that

Percy Jackson was out of the picture with

Calypso. The air was cleared. All Leo had to

do was to find his way back to Ogygia. And

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he would, assuming he survived the next ten days.

‘One Nikette left,’ Percy said. ‘I wonder –’

Somewhere close by, Hazel cried out in

pain.

Instantly, Leo was on his feet.

‘Dude, wait!’ Percy called, but Leo plunged

through the maze, his heart pounding.

The walls fell away on either side. Leo

found himself in an open stretch of field.

Frank stood at the far end of the stadium,

shooting flaming arrows at Nike’s chariot as

the goddess bellowed insults and tried to

find a path to him across the shifting net-

work of trenches.

Hazel was closer – maybe sixty feet away.

The fourth Nikette had obviously sneaked up

on her. Hazel was limping away from her at-

tacker, her jeans ripped, her left leg bleeding.

She parried the metal lady’s spear with her

huge cavalry sword, but she was about to be

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overpowered. All around her, the Mist

flickered like a dying strobe light. She was

losing control of the magic maze.

‘I’ll help her,’ Percy said. ‘You stick to the

plan. Get Nike’s chariot.’

‘But the plan was to eliminate all four

Nikettes first!’

‘So change the plan and then stick to it!’

‘That doesn’t even make sense, but go!

Help her!’

Percy rushed to Hazel’s defence. Leo dar-

ted towards Nike, yelling, ‘Hey! I want a par-

ticipation award!’

‘Gah!’ The goddess pulled the reins and

turned her chariot in his direction. ‘I will

destroy you!’

‘Good!’ Leo yelled. ‘Losing is way better

than winning!’

‘ WHAT? ’ Nike threw her mighty spear, but

her aim was off with the rocking of the

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chariot. Her weapon skittered into the grass.

Sadly, a new one appeared in her hands.

She urged her horses to a full gallop. The

trenches disappeared, leaving an open field,

perfect for running down small Latino

demigods.

‘Hey!’ Frank yelled from across the stadi-

um. ‘I want a participation award, too!

Everybody wins!’

He shot a well-aimed arrow that landed in

the back of Nike’s chariot and began to burn.

Nike ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on Leo.

‘Percy … ?’ Leo’s voice sounded like a ham-

ster’s squeak. From his tool belt, he fished

out an Archimedes sphere and set the con-

centric circles to arm the device.

Percy was still sparring with the last metal

lady. Leo couldn’t wait.

He threw the sphere in the chariot’s path.

It hit the ground and burrowed in, but he

needed Percy to spring the trap. If Nike

245/982

sensed any threat, she apparently didn’t

think much of it. She kept charging at Leo.

The chariot was twenty feet from the gren-

ade. Fifteen feet.

‘Percy!’ Leo yelled. ‘Operation Water

Balloon!’

Unfortunately, Percy was a little busy get-

ting smacked around. The Nikette thumped

him backwards with the butt of her spear.

She threw her wreath with such force it

knocked Percy’s sword from his grip. Percy

stumbled. The metallic lady moved in for the

kill.

Leo howled. He knew the distance was too

far. He knew that if he didn’t jump out of the

way now Nike would run him over. But that

didn’t matter. His friends were about to be

skewered. He thrust out his hand and shot a

white-hot bolt of fire straight at the Nikette.

It literally melted her face. The Nikette

staggered, her spear still raised. Before she

246/982

could regain her balance, Hazel thrust her

spatha and impaled the metal lady through

the chest. The Nikette crashed into the grass.

Percy turned towards the victory goddess’s

chariot. Just as those huge white horses were

about to turn Leo into roadkill, the carriage

passed over Leo’s sunken grenade, which ex-

ploded in a high-pressure geyser. Water

blasted upward, flipping the chariot –

horses, carriage, goddess and all.

Back in Houston, Leo used to live with his

mom in an apartment right off the Gulf Free-

way. He heard car crashes at least once a

week, but this sound was worse – Celestial

bronze crumpling, wood splintering, stal-

lions screaming and a goddess wailing in two

distinct voices, both of them very surprised.

Hazel collapsed. Percy caught her. Frank

ran towards them from across the field.

Leo was on his own as the goddess Nike

disentangled herself from the wreckage and

247/982

rose to face him. Her braided hairdo now re-

sembled a stepped-on cow pat. A laurel

wreath was stuck around her left ankle. Her

horses got to their hooves and galloped away

in a panic, dragging the soaked, half-burning

wreckage of the chariot behind them.

‘ YOU! ’ Nike glared at Leo, her eyes hotter and brighter than her metal wings. ‘You

dare?’

Leo didn’t feel very courageous, but he

forced a smile. ‘I know, right? I’m awesome!

Do I win a leaf hat now?’

‘You will die!’ The goddess raised her

spear.

‘Hold that thought!’ Leo dug around in his

tool belt. ‘You haven’t seen my best trick yet.

I have a weapon guaranteed to win any

contest!’

Nike hesitated. ‘What weapon? What do

you mean?’

248/982

‘My ultimate zap-o-matic!’ He pulled out a

second Archimedes sphere – the one he’d

spent a whole thirty seconds modifying be-

fore they entered the stadium. ‘How many

laurel wreaths have you got? Because I’m

gonna win them all.’

He fiddled with dials, hoping he’d done his

calculations right.

Leo had got better at making spheres, but

they still weren’t completely reliable. More

like twenty percent reliable.

It would’ve been nice to have Calypso’s

help weaving the Celestial bronze filaments.

She was an ace at weaving. Or Annabeth: she was no slouch. But Leo had done his best, re-wiring the sphere to carry out two completely

different functions.

‘Behold!’ Leo clicked the final dial. The

sphere opened. One side elongated into a

gun handle. The other side unfolded into a

249/982

miniature radar dish made of Celestial

bronze mirrors.

Nike frowned. ‘What is that supposed to

be?’

‘An Archimedes death ray!’ Leo said. ‘I fi-

nally perfected it. Now give me all the prizes.’

‘Those things don’t work!’ Nike yelled.

‘They proved it on television! Besides, I’m an

immortal goddess. You can’t destroy me!’

‘Watch closely,’ Leo said. ‘Are you

watching?’

Nike could’ve zapped him into a grease

spot or speared him like a cheese wedge, but

her curiosity got the best of her. She stared

straight into the dish as Leo flipped the

switch. Leo knew to look away. Even so, the

blazing beam of light left him seeing spots.

‘Gah!’ The goddess staggered. She dropped

her spear and clutched at her eyes. ‘I’m

blind! I’m blind!’

250/982

Leo hit another button on his death ray. It

collapsed back into a sphere and began to

hum. Leo counted silently to three, then

tossed the sphere at the goddess’s feet.

FOOM! Metal filaments shot upward,

wrapping Nike in a bronze net. She wailed,

falling sideways as the net constricted, for-

cing her two forms – Greek and Roman – in-

to a quivering, out-of-focus whole.

‘Trickery!’ Her doubled voices buzzed like

muffled alarm clocks. ‘Your death ray did not

even kill me!’

‘I don’t need to kill you,’ Leo said. ‘I van-

quished you just fine.’

‘I will simply change form!’ she cried. ‘I

will rip apart your silly net! I will destroy

you!’

‘Yeah, see, you can’t.’ Leo hoped he was

right. ‘That’s high-quality Celestial bronze

netting, and I’m a son of Hephaestus. He’s

251/982

kind of an expert on catching goddesses in

nets.’

‘No. Nooooo!’

Leo left her thrashing and cursing, and

went to check on his friends. Percy looked all

right, just sore and bruised. Frank had

propped Hazel up and was feeding her am-

brosia. The cut on her leg had stopped bleed-

ing, though her jeans were pretty much

ruined.

‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Just too much magic.’

‘You were awesome, Levesque.’ Leo did his

best Hazel imitation: ‘ Popcorn! Our fatal

weakness! ’

She smiled wanly. Together the four of

them walked over to Nike, who was still

writhing and flapping her wings in the net

like a golden chicken.

‘What do we do with her?’ Percy asked.

‘Take her aboard the Argo II,’ Leo said.

‘Chuck her in one of the horse stalls.’

252/982

Hazel’s eyes widened. ‘You’re going to

keep the goddess of victory in the stable?’

‘Why not? Once we sort things out

between Greeks and Romans, the gods

should go back to their normal selves. Then

we can free her and she can … you know …

grant us victory.’

‘Grant you victory?’ the goddess cried.

‘Never! You will suffer for this outrage! Your

blood shall be spilled! One of you here – one

of you four – is fated to die battling Gaia!’

Leo’s intestines tied themselves into a slip-

knot. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I can foresee victories!’ Nike yelled. ‘You

will have no success without death! Release

me and fight each other! It is better you die

here than face what is to come!’

Hazel stuck the point of her spatha under

Nike’s chin. ‘Explain.’ Her voice was harder

than Leo had ever heard. ‘Which of us will

die? How do we stop it?’

253/982

‘Ah, child of Pluto! Your magic helped you

cheat in this contest, but you cannot cheat

destiny. One of you will die. One of you must

die!’

‘No,’ Hazel insisted. ‘There’s another way.

There is always another path.’

‘Hecate taught you this?’ Nike laughed.

‘You would hope for the physician’s cure,

perhaps? But that is impossible. Too much

stands in your way: the poison of Pylos, the chained god’s heartbeat in Sparta, the curse

of Delos! No, you cannot cheat death.’

Frank knelt. He gathered up the net under

Nike’s chin and raised her face to his. ‘What

are you talking about? How do we find this

cure?’

‘I will not help you,’ Nike growled. ‘I will

curse you with my power, net or no!’

She began to mutter in Ancient Greek.

Frank looked up, scowling. ‘Can she really

cast magic through this net?’

254/982

‘Heck if I know,’ Leo said.

Frank let go of the goddess. He took off

one of his shoes, peeled off his sock and

stuffed it in the goddess’s mouth.

‘Dude,’ Percy said, ‘that is disgusting.’

‘Mpppphhh!’ Nike complained.

‘Mppppphhh!’

‘Leo,’ Frank said grimly, ‘you got duct

tape?’

‘Never leave home without it.’ He fished a

roll from his tool belt, and in no time Frank

had wrapped it around Nike’s head, securing

the gag in her mouth.

‘Well, it’s not a laurel wreath,’ Frank said,

‘but it’s a new kind of victory circle: the gag

of duct tape.’

‘Zhang,’ Leo said, ‘you got style.’

Nike thrashed and grunted until Percy

nudged her with his toe. ‘Hey, shut up. You

behave or we’ll get Arion back here and let

him nibble your wings. He loves gold.’

255/982

Nike shrieked once, then became still and

quiet.

‘So …’ Hazel sounded a little nervous. ‘We

have one tied-up goddess. Now what?’

Frank folded his arms. ‘We go looking for

this physician’s cure … whatever that is. Be-

cause, personally, I like cheating death.’

Leo grinned. ‘Poison in Pylos? A chained

god’s heartbeat in Sparta? A curse in Delos?

Oh, yeah. This is gonna be fun!’

X I I I

Nico

THE LAST THING NICO HEARD was Coach

Hedge grumbling, ‘Well, this isn’t good.’

He wondered what he’d done wrong this

time. Maybe he’d teleported them into a den

of Cyclopes, or a thousand feet above anoth-

er volcano. There was nothing he could do

about it. His vision was gone. His other

senses were shutting down. His knees

buckled and he passed out.

He tried to make the most of his

unconsciousness.

Dreams and death were old friends of his.

He knew how to navigate their dark

258/982

borderland. He sent out his thoughts,

searching for Thalia Grace.

He rushed past the usual fragments of

painful memories – his mother smiling down

at him, her face illuminated by the sunlight

rippling off the Venetian Grand Canal; his

sister Bianca laughing as she pulled him

across the Mall in Washington, D.C., her

green floppy hat shading her eyes and the

splash of freckles across her nose. He saw

Percy Jackson on a snowy cliff outside

Westover Hall, shielding Nico and Bianca

from the manticore as Nico clutched a Mythomagic figurine and whispered, I’m

scared. He saw Minos, his old ghostly ment-or, leading him through the Labyrinth. Mi-

nos’s smile was cold and cruel. Don’t worry,

son of Hades. You will have your revenge.

Nico couldn’t stop the memories. They

cluttered his dreams like the ghosts of As-

phodel – an aimless, sorrowful mob pleading

259/982

for attention. Save me, they seemed to whisper. Remember me. Help me. Comfort me.

He didn’t dare stop to dwell on them. They

would only crush him with wants and re-

grets. The best he could do was to stay fo-

cused and push through.

I am the son of Hades, he thought. I go

where I wish. The darkness is my birthright.

He forged ahead through a grey-and-black

terrain, looking for the dreams of Thalia

Grace, daughter of Zeus. Instead, the ground

dissolved at his feet and he fell into a famili-

ar backwater – the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood.

Buried under piles of feather comforters,

snoring demigods nestled in their bunks.

Above the mantel, a dark tree branch

dripped milky water from the River Lethe in-

to a bowl. A cheerful fire crackled in the fire-

place. In front of it, in a leather armchair,

dozed the head counsellor for Cabin Fifteen

260/982

– a pot-bellied guy with unruly blond hair

and a gentle bovine face.

‘Clovis,’ Nico growled, ‘for the gods’ sake,

stop dreaming so powerfully!’

Clovis’s eyes fluttered open. He turned and

stared at Nico, though Nico knew this was

simply part of Clovis’s own dreamscape. The

actual Clovis would still be snoring in his

armchair back at camp.

‘Oh, hi …’ Clovis yawned wide enough to

swallow a minor god. ‘Sorry. Did I pull you

off course again?’

Nico gritted his teeth. There was no point

getting upset. The Hypnos cabin was like

Grand Central Station for dream activity.

You couldn’t travel anywhere without going through it once in a while.

‘As long as I’m here,’ Nico said, ‘pass along

a message. Tell Chiron I’m on my way with a

couple of friends. We’re bringing the Athena

Parthenos.’

261/982

Clovis rubbed his eyes. ‘So it’s true? How

are you bringing it? Did you rent a van or

something?’

Nico explained as concisely as possible.

Messages sent through dreams tended to get

fuzzy around the edges, especially when you

were dealing with Clovis. The simpler, the

better.

‘We’re being followed by a hunter,’ Nico

said. ‘One of Gaia’s giants, I think. Can you

get that message to Thalia Grace? You’re bet-

ter at finding people in dreams than I am. I

need her advice.’

‘I’ll try.’ Clovis fumbled for a cup of hot

chocolate on the side table. ‘Uh, before you

go, do you have a second?’

‘Clovis, this is a dream,’ Nico reminded

him. ‘Time is fluid.’

Even as he said it, Nico worried about

what was happening in the real world. His

physical self might be plummeting to his

262/982

death, or surrounded by monsters. Still, he

couldn’t force himself to wake up – not after

the amount of energy he’d expended on

shadow-travel.

Clovis nodded. ‘Right … I was thinking you

should probably see what happened today at

the council of war. I slept through some of it,

but –’

‘Show me,’ Nico said.

The scene changed. Nico found himself in

the rec room of the Big House, all the senior

camp leaders gathered around the ping-pong

table.

At one end sat Chiron the centaur, his

equine posterior collapsed into his magic

wheelchair so he looked like a regular hu-

man. His curly brown hair and beard had

more grey streaks than a few months ago.

Deep lines etched his face.

263/982

‘– things we can’t control,’ he was saying.

‘Now let’s review our defences. Where do we

stand?’

Clarisse from the Ares cabin sat forward.

She was the only one in full armour, which

was typical. Clarisse probably slept in her

combat gear. As she spoke, she gestured with

her dagger, which made the other counsel-

lors lean away from her.

‘Our defensive line is mostly solid,’ she

said. ‘The campers are as ready to fight as

they’ll ever be. We control the beach. Our tri-

remes are unchallenged on Long Island

Sound, but those stupid giant eagles domin-

ate our airspace. Inland, in all three direc-

tions, the barbarians have us completely cut

off.’

‘They’re Romans,’ said Rachel Dare, dood-

ling with a marker on the knee of her jeans.

‘Not barbarians.’

264/982

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel.

‘What about their allies, huh? Did you see

that tribe of two-headed men that arrived

yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed

guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty

barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d

foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!’

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair.

‘That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong

with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how

to fix it –’

‘She’s right.’ Will Solace, head counsellor

for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on

Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve

done that without getting stabbed, but Will

had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got

her to lower her dagger. ‘Everyone in our

cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel.’

265/982

Will’s shaggy blond hair and pale blue eyes

reminded Nico of Jason Grace, but the simil-

arities ended there.

Jason was a fighter. You could tell from

the intensity of his stare, his constant alert-

ness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will

Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched

out in the sunshine. His movements were re-

laxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and

far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt,

his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked

about as unaggressive as a demigod could

get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire.

During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had

seen him in action – the camp’s best combat

medic, risking his life to save wounded

campers.

‘We don’t know what’s going on at Delphi,’

Will continued. ‘My dad hasn’t answered any

prayers, or appeared in any dreams … I

266/982

mean, all the gods have been silent, but this isn’t like Apollo. Something’s wrong.’

Across the table, Jake Mason grunted.

‘Probably this Roman dirt-wipe who’s lead-

ing the attack – Octavian what’s-his-name. If

I was Apollo and my descendant was acting

that way, I’d go into hiding out of shame.’

‘I agree,’ Will said. ‘I wish I was a better

archer … I wouldn’t mind shooting my Ro-

man relative off his high horse. Actually, I

wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war.’ He looked down at his own

hands with distaste. ‘Unfortunately, I’m just

a healer.’

‘Your talents are essential,’ Chiron said. ‘I

fear we’ll need them soon enough. As for see-

ing the future … what about the harpy Ella?

Has she offered any advice from the Sibylline

Books?’

Rachel shook her head. ‘The poor thing is

scared out of her wits. Harpies hate being

267/982

imprisoned. Ever since the Romans surroun-

ded us … well, she feels trapped. She knows

Octavian means to capture her. It’s all Tyson

and I can do to keep her from flying away.’

‘Which would be suicide.’ Butch Walker,

son of Iris, crossed his burly arms. ‘With

those Roman eagles in the air, flying isn’t

safe. I’ve already lost two pegasi.’

‘At least Tyson brought some of his Cyc-

lops friends to help out,’ Rachel said. ‘That’s a little good news.’

Over by the refreshment table, Connor

Stoll laughed. He had a fistful of Ritz crack-

ers in one hand and a can of Easy Cheese in

the other. ‘A dozen full-grown Cyclopes?

That’s a lot of good news! Plus, Lou Ellen and the Hecate kids have been putting up

magic barriers, and the whole Hermes cabin has been lining the hills with traps and

snares and all kinds of nice surprises for the

Romans!’

268/982

Jake Mason frowned. ‘Most of which you

stole from Bunker Nine and the Hephaestus

cabin.’

Clarisse grumbled in agreement. ‘They

even stole the landmines from around the

Ares cabin. How do you steal live

landmines?’

‘We commandeered them for the war ef-

fort.’ Connor sprayed a glob of Easy Cheese

into his mouth. ‘Besides, you guys have

plenty of toys. You can share!’

Chiron turned to his left, where the satyr

Grover Underwood sat in silence, fingering

his reed pipes. ‘Grover? What news from the

nature spirits?’

Grover heaved a sigh. ‘Even on a good day,

it’s hard to organize nymphs and dryads.

With Gaia stirring, they’re almost as disori-

ented as the gods. Katie and Miranda from

the Demeter cabin are out there right now trying to help, but if the Earth Mother wakes

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…’ He looked around the table nervously.

‘Well, I can’t promise the woods will be safe.

Or the hills. Or the strawberry fields. Or –’

‘Great.’ Jake Mason elbowed Clovis, who

was starting to nod off. ‘So what do we do?’

‘Attack.’ Clarisse pounded the ping-pong

table, which made everyone flinch. ‘The Ro-

mans are getting more reinforcements by the

day. We know they plan to invade on August

first. Why should we let them set the

timetable? I can only guess they’re waiting to

gather more forces. They already outnumber

us. We should attack now, before they get

any stronger; take the fight to them!’

Malcolm, the acting head counsellor for

Athena, coughed into his fist. ‘Clarisse, I get

your point. But have you studied Roman en-

gineering? Their temporary camp is better

defended than Camp Half-Blood. Attack

them at their base, and we’d be massacred.’

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‘So we just wait?’ Clarisse demanded. ‘Let

them get all their forces prepared while Gaia

gets closer to waking? I have Coach Hedge’s

pregnant wife under my protection. I am not

going to let anything happen to her. I owe

Hedge my life. Besides, I’ve been training the

campers more than you have, Malcolm.

Their morale is low. Everybody is scared. If

we’re under siege another nine days –’

‘We should stick to Annabeth’s plan.’ Con-

nor Stoll looked about as serious as he ever

did, despite the Easy Cheese around his

mouth. ‘We have to hold out until she gets

that magic Athena statue back here.’

Clarisse rolled her eyes. ‘You mean if that

Roman praetor gets the statue back here. I don’t understand what Annabeth was thinking, collaborating with the enemy. Even if

the Roman manages to bring us the statue –

which is impossible – we’re supposed to

trust that will bring peace? The statue arrives

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and suddenly the Romans lay down their

weapons and start dancing around, throwing

flowers?’

Rachel set down her marker pen. ‘Anna-

beth knows what she’s doing. We have to try

for peace. Unless we can unite the Greeks

and Romans, the gods won’t be healed. Un-

less the gods are healed, there’s no way we

can kill the giants. And unless we kill the

giants –’

‘Gaia wakes,’ Connor said. ‘Game over.

Look, Clarisse, Annabeth sent me a message

from Tartarus. From fricking Tartarus.

Anybody who can do that … hey, I listen to

them.’

Clarisse opened her mouth to reply, but

when she spoke it was Coach Hedge’s voice:

‘Nico, wake up. We’ve got problems.’

X I V

Nico

NICO SAT UP SO QUICKLY he head-butted the

satyr in the nose.

‘OW! Jeez, kid, you got a hard noggin!’

‘S-sorry, Coach.’ Nico blinked, trying to get

his bearings. ‘What’s going on?’

He didn’t see any immediate threat. They

were camped on a sunny lawn in the middle

of a public square. Beds of orange marigolds

bloomed all around them. Reyna was sleep-

ing curled up, with her two metal dogs at her

feet. A stone’s throw away, little kids played

tag around a white marble fountain. At a

nearby pavement café, half a dozen people

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sipped coffee in the shade of patio umbrellas.

A few delivery vans were parked along the

edges of the square, but there was no traffic.

The only pedestrians were a few families,

probably locals, enjoying a warm afternoon.

The square itself was paved with cobble-

stones, edged with white stucco buildings

and lemon trees. In the centre stood the

well-preserved shell of a Roman temple. Its

square base stretched maybe fifty feet wide

and ten feet tall, with an intact facade of Cor-

inthian columns rising another twenty-five

feet. And at the top of the colonnade …

Nico’s mouth went dry. ‘Oh, Styx.’

The Athena Parthenos lay sideways along

the tops of the columns like a nightclub sing-

er sprawled across a piano. Lengthwise, she

fitted almost perfectly, but with Nike in her

extended hand she was a bit too wide. She

looked like she might topple forward at any

moment.

275/982

‘What is she doing up there?’ Nico asked.

‘You tell me.’ Hedge rubbed his bruised

nose. ‘That’s where we appeared. Almost fell

to our deaths, but luckily I’ve got nimble

hooves. You were unconscious, hanging in

your harness like a tangled paratrooper until

we managed to get you down.’

Nico tried to picture that, then decided

he’d rather not. ‘Is this Spain?’

‘Portugal,’ Hedge said. ‘You overshot. By

the way, Reyna speaks Spanish; she does not speak Portuguese. Anyway, while you were

asleep, we figured out this city is Évora.

Good news: it’s a sleepy little place. Nobody’s

bothered us. Nobody seems to notice the gi-

ant Athena sleeping on top of the Roman

temple, which is called the Temple of Diana,

in case you were wondering. And people here

appreciate my street performances! I’ve

made about sixteen euros.’

276/982

He picked up his baseball cap, which

jangled with coins.

Nico felt ill. ‘Street performances?’

‘A little singing,’ the coach said. ‘A little

martial arts. Some interpretive dance.’

‘Wow.’

‘I know! The Portuguese have taste. Any-

way, I supposed this was a decent place to lie

low for a couple of days.’

Nico stared at him. ‘A couple of days?’

‘Hey, kid, we didn’t have much choice. In

case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been work-

ing yourself to death with all that shadow-

jumping. We tried to wake you up last night.

No dice.’

‘So I’ve been asleep for –’

‘About thirty-six hours. You needed it.’

Nico was glad he was sitting down. Other-

wise he would’ve fallen down. He could’ve

sworn he’d only slept a few minutes, but as

his drowsiness faded he realized he felt more

277/982

clear-headed and rested than he had in

weeks, maybe since before he went looking

for the Doors of Death.

His stomach growled. Coach Hedge raised

his eyebrows.

‘You must be hungry,’ said the satyr. ‘Eith-

er that, or your stomach speaks hedgehog.

That was quite a statement in hedgehog.’

‘Food would be good,’ Nico agreed. ‘But

first, what’s the bad news … I mean, aside

from the statue being sideways? You said we

had trouble.’

‘Oh, right.’ The coach pointed to a gated

archway at the corner of the square. Stand-

ing in the shadows was a glowing, vaguely

human figure outlined in grey flames. The

spirit’s features were indistinct, but it

seemed to be beckoning to Nico.

‘Burning Man showed up a few minutes

ago,’ said Coach Hedge. ‘He doesn’t get any

closer. When I tried to go over there, he

278/982

disappeared. Not sure if he’s a threat, but he

seems to be asking for you.’

Nico assumed it was a trap. Most things

were.

But Coach Hedge promised he could guard

Reyna for a little longer and, on the off

chance the spirit had something useful to

say, Nico decided it was worth the risk.

He unsheathed his Stygian iron blade and

approached the archway.

Normally ghosts didn’t scare him. (Assum-

ing, of course, Gaia hadn’t encased them in

shells of stone and turned them into killing

machines. That had been a new one for him.)

After his experience with Minos, Nico real-

ized that most spectres held only as much

power as you allowed them to have. They

pried into your mind, using fear or anger or

longing to influence you. Nico had learned to

279/982

shield himself. Sometimes he could even

turn the tables and bend ghosts to his will.

As he approached the fiery grey appari-

tion, he was fairly sure it was a garden-vari-

ety wraith – a lost soul who had died in pain.

Shouldn’t be a problem.

Still, Nico took nothing for granted. He re-

membered Croatia all too well. He’d gone in-

to that situation smug and confident, only to

have his feet swept out from under him, lit-

erally and emotionally. First Jason Grace

had grabbed him and flown him over a wall.

Then the god Favonius had dissolved him in-

to wind. And as for that arrogant thug, Cupid

…

Nico clenched his sword. Sharing his

secret crush hadn’t been the worst of it.

Eventually he might have done that, in his

own time, in his own way. But being forced

to talk about Percy, being bullied and

280/982

harassed and strong-armed simply for Cu-

pid’s amusement …

Tendrils of darkness were now spreading

out from his feet, killing all the weeds

between the cobblestones. Nico tried to rein

in his anger.

When he reached the ghost, he saw it wore

a monk’s habit – sandals, woollen robes and

a wooden cross around his neck. Grey flames

swirled around him – burning his sleeves,

blistering his face, turning his eyebrows to

ashes. He seemed to be stuck in the moment

of his immolation, like a black-and-white

video on a permanent loop.

‘You were burned alive,’ Nico sensed.

‘Probably in the Middle Ages?’

The ghost’s face distorted in a silent

scream of agony, but his eyes looked bored,

even a little annoyed, as if the scream was

just an automatic reflex he couldn’t control.

‘What do you want of me?’ Nico asked.

281/982

The ghost gestured for Nico to follow. It

turned and walked through the open gate-

way. Nico glanced back at Coach Hedge. The

satyr just made a shooing gesture like, Go.

Do your Underworld thing.

Nico trailed the ghost through the streets

of Évora.

They zigzagged through narrow cobblestone

walkways, past courtyards with potted hibis-

cus trees and white stucco buildings with

butterscotch trim and wrought-iron ball-

conies. No one noticed the ghost, but the loc-

als looked askance at Nico. A young girl with

a fox terrier crossed the street to avoid him.

Her dog growled, the hair on its back stand-

ing straight up like a dorsal fin.

The ghost led Nico to another public

square, anchored at one end by a large

square church with whitewashed walls and

282/982

limestone arches. The ghost passed through

the portico and disappeared inside.

Nico hesitated. He had nothing against

churches, but this one radiated death. Inside

would be tombs, or perhaps something less

pleasant …

He ducked through the doorway. His eyes

were drawn to a side chapel, lit from within

by eerie golden light. Carved over the door

was a Portuguese inscription. Nico didn’t

speak the language, but he remembered his

childhood Italian well enough to glean the

general meaning: We, the bones that are

here, await yours.

‘Cheery,’ he muttered.

He entered the chapel. At the far end stood

an altar, where the fiery wraith knelt in pray-

er, but Nico was more interested in the room

itself. The walls were constructed of bones

and skulls – thousands upon thousands, ce-

mented together. Columns of bones held up

283/982

a vaulted ceiling decorated with images of

death. On one wall, like coats on a coat rack,

hung the desiccated, skeletal remains of two

people – an adult and a small child.

‘A beautiful room, isn’t it?’

Nico turned. A year ago, he would’ve

jumped out of his skin if his father suddenly

appeared next to him. Now, Nico was able to

control his heart rate, along with his desire

to knee his father in the groin and run away.

Like the wraith, Hades was dressed in the

habit of a Franciscan monk, which Nico

found vaguely disturbing. His black robes

were tied at the waist with a simple white

cord. His cowl was pushed back, revealing

dark hair shorn close to the scalp and eyes

that glittered like frozen tar. The god’s ex-

pression was calm and content, as if he’d just

come home from a lovely evening strolling

through the Fields of Punishment, enjoying

the screams of the damned.

284/982

‘Getting some redecorating ideas?’ Nico

asked. ‘Maybe you could do your dining

room in mediaeval monk skulls.’

Hades arched an eyebrow. ‘I can never tell

when you’re joking.’

‘Why are you here, Father? How are you

here?’

Hades traced his fingers along the nearest

column, leaving bleached white marks on the

old bones. ‘You’re a hard mortal to find, my

son. For several days I’ve been searching.

When the sceptre of Diocletian exploded …

well, that got my attention.’

Nico felt a flush of shame. Then he felt

angry for feeling ashamed. ‘Breaking the

sceptre wasn’t my fault. We were about to be

overrun –’

‘Oh, the sceptre isn’t important. A relic

that old, I’m surprised you got two uses out

of it. The explosion simply gave me some

clarity. It allowed me to pinpoint your

285/982

location. I was hoping to speak to you in

Pompeii, but it is so … well, Roman. This

chapel was the first place where my presence

was strong enough that I could appear to you

as myself – by which I mean Hades, god of

the dead, not split with that other

manifestation.’

Hades breathed in the stale dank air. ‘I am

very drawn to this place. The remains of five

thousand monks were used to build the

Chapel of Bones. It serves as a reminder that

life is short and death is eternal. I feel fo-

cused here. Even so, I only have a few

moments.’

Story of our relationship, Nico thought.

You only ever have a few moments.

‘So tell me, Father. What do you want?’

Hades clasped his hands together in the

sleeves of his robe. ‘Can you entertain the

notion that I might be here to help you, not

simply because I want something?’

286/982

Nico almost laughed, but his chest felt too

hollow. ‘I can entertain the notion that you

might be here for multiple reasons.’

The god frowned. ‘I suppose that’s fair

enough. You seek information about Gaia’s

hunter. His name is Orion.’

Nico hesitated. He wasn’t used to getting a

direct answer, without games or riddles or

quests. ‘Orion. Like the constellation. Wasn’t

he … a friend of Artemis?’

‘He was,’ Hades said. ‘A giant born to op-

pose the twins, Apollo and Artemis, but,

much like Artemis, Orion rejected his des-

tiny. He sought to live on his own terms.

First he tried to live among mortals as a

huntsman for the king of Khios. He, ah, ran

into some trouble with the king’s daughter.

The king had Orion blinded and exiled.’

Nico thought back to what Reyna had told

him. ‘My friend dreamed of a hunter with

glowing eyes. If Orion is blind –’

287/982

‘He was blind,’ Hades corrected. ‘Shortly

after his exile, Orion met Hephaestus, who

took pity on the giant and crafted him new

mechanical eyes even better than the origin-

als. Orion became friends with Artemis. He

was the first male ever allowed to join her

Hunt. But … things went wrong between

them. How exactly, I do not know. Orion was

slain. Now he has returned as a loyal son of

Gaia, ready to do her bidding. He is driven

by bitterness and anger. You can understand

that.’

Nico wanted to yell, Like you know what I

feel?

Instead he asked, ‘How do we stop him?’

‘You cannot,’ Hades said. ‘Your only hope

is to outrun him, accomplish your quest be-

fore he reaches you. Apollo or Artemis might

be able to slay him, arrows against arrows,

but the twins are in no condition to aid you.

Even now, Orion has your scent. His hunting

288/982

pack is almost upon you. You won’t have the

luxury of more rest from here to Camp Half-

Blood.’

A belt seemed to tighten around Nico’s

ribs. He’d left Coach Hedge on guard duty

with Reyna asleep. ‘I need to get back to my

companions.’

‘Indeed,’ Hades said. ‘But there is more.

Your sister …’ Hades faltered. As always, the

subject of Bianca lay between them like a

loaded gun – deadly, easy to reach, im-

possible to ignore. ‘I mean your other sister, Hazel … she has discovered that one of the

Seven will die. She may try to prevent this. In

doing so, she may lose sight of her priorities.’

Nico didn’t trust himself to speak.

To his surprise, his thoughts didn’t leap

first to Percy. His primary concern was for

Hazel, then for Jason, then for Percy and the

others aboard the Argo II. They’d saved him in Rome. They’d welcomed him aboard their

289/982

ship. Nico had never allowed himself the lux-

ury of friends, but the crew of the Argo II

was as close as he’d ever come. The idea of

any of them dying made him feel empty –

like he was back in the giants’ bronze jar,

alone in the dark, subsisting only on sour

pomegranate seeds.

Finally he asked, ‘Is Hazel all right?’

‘For the moment.’

‘And the others? Who will die?’

Hades shook his head. ‘Even if I were cer-

tain, I could not say. I tell you this because

you are my son. You know that some deaths

cannot be prevented. Some deaths should

not be prevented. When the time comes, you

may need to act.’

Nico didn’t know what that meant. He

didn’t want to know.

‘My son.’ Hades’s tone was almost gentle.

‘Whatever happens, you have earned my re-

spect. You brought honour to our house

290/982

when we stood together against Kronos in Manhattan. You risked my wrath to help the

Jackson boy – guiding him to the River Styx,

freeing him from my prison, pleading with

me to raise the armies of Erebos to assist

him. Never before have I been so harassed

by one of my sons. Percy this and Percy that.

I nearly blasted you to cinders.’

Nico took a shallow breath. The walls of

the room began to tremble, dust trickling

from the cracks between the bones. ‘I didn’t

do all that just for him. I did it because the

whole world was in danger.’

Hades allowed himself the faintest smile,

but there was nothing cruel in his eyes. ‘I can

entertain the possibility that you acted for

multiple reasons. My point is this: you and I rose to the aid of Olympus because you convinced me to let go of my anger. I would en-

courage you to do likewise. My children are

291/982

so rarely happy. I … I would like to see you

be an exception.’

Nico stared at his father. He didn’t know

what to do with that statement. He could ac-

cept many unreal things – hordes of ghosts,

magical labyrinths, travel through shadows,

chapels made of bones. But tender words

from the Lord of the Underworld? No. That

made no sense.

Over at the altar, the fiery ghost rose. He

approached, burning and screaming silently,

his eyes conveying some urgent message.

‘Ah,’ Hades said. ‘This is Brother Paloan.

He’s one of hundreds who were burned alive

in the square near the old Roman temple.

The Inquisition had its headquarters there,

you know. At any rate, he suggests you leave

now. You have very little time before the

wolves arrive.’

‘Wolves? You mean Orion’s pack?’

292/982

Hades flicked his hand. The ghost of

Brother Paloan disappeared. ‘My son, what

you are attempting – shadow-travel across

the world, carrying the statue of Athena – it

may well destroy you.’

‘Thanks for the encouragement.’

Hades placed his hands briefly on Nico’s

shoulders.

Nico didn’t like to be touched, but some-

how this brief contact with his father felt re-

assuring – the same way the Chapel of Bones

was reassuring. Like death, his father’s pres-

ence was cold and often callous, but it was

real – brutally honest, inescapably depend-

able. Nico found a sort of freedom in know-

ing that eventually, no matter what

happened, he would end up at the foot of his

father’s throne.

‘I will see you again,’ Hades promised. ‘I

will prepare a room for you at the palace in

case you do not survive. Perhaps your

293/982

chambers would look good decorated with

the skulls of monks.’

‘Now I can’t tell if you’re joking.’

Hades’s eyes glittered as his form began to

fade. ‘Then perhaps we are alike in some im-

portant ways.’

The god vanished.

Suddenly the chapel felt oppressive –

thousands of hollow eye sockets staring at

Nico. We, the bones that are here, await

yours.

He hurried out of the church, hoping he

remembered the way back to his friends.

X V

Nico

‘WOLVES?’ REYNA ASKED.

They were eating dinner from the nearby

pavement café.

Despite Hades’s warning to hurry back,

Nico had found nothing much changed at the

camp. Reyna had just awoken. The Athena

Parthenos still lay sideways across the top of

the temple. Coach Hedge was entertaining a

few locals with tap dancing and martial arts,

occasionally singing into his megaphone,

though nobody seemed to understand what

he was saying.

296/982

Nico wished the coach hadn’t brought the

megaphone. Not only was it loud and obnox-

ious but also, for no reason Nico understood,

it occasionally blurted out random Darth

Vader lines from Star Wars or yelled, ‘THE

COW GOES MOO!’

As the three of them sat on the lawn to eat,

Reyna seemed alert and rested. She and

Coach Hedge listened as Nico described his

dreams, then his meeting with Hades at the

Chapel of Bones. Nico held back a few per-

sonal details from his talk with his father,

though he sensed that Reyna knew plenty

about wrestling with one’s feelings.

When he mentioned Orion and the wolves

that were supposedly on their way, Reyna

frowned.

‘Most wolves are friendly to Romans,’ she

said. ‘I’ve never heard stories about Orion

hunting with a pack.’

297/982

Nico finished his ham sandwich. He eyed

the plate of pastries and was surprised to

find he still had an appetite. ‘It could have

been a figure of speech: very little time be-

fore the wolves arrive. Perhaps Hades didn’t literally mean wolves. At any rate, we should

leave as soon as it’s dark enough for

shadows.’

Coach Hedge stuffed an issue of Guns &

Ammo into his bag. ‘Only problem: the

Athena Parthenos is still thirty feet in the air.

Gonna be fun hauling you guys and your

gear to the top of that temple.’

Nico tried a pastry. The lady at the café

had called them farturas. They looked like spiral doughnuts and tasted great – just the

right combination of crispy, sugary and but-

tery – but when Nico first heard fartura he knew Percy would have made a joke out of

the name.

298/982

America has dough-nuts, Percy would

have said. Portugal has fart-nuts.

The older Nico got, the more juvenile

Percy seemed to him, though Percy was three

years older. Nico found his sense of humour

equal parts endearing and annoying. He de-

cided to concentrate on the annoying.

Then there were the times Percy was

deadly serious: looking up at Nico from that

chasm in Rome – The other side, Nico! Lead

them there. Promise me!

And Nico had promised. It didn’t seem to

matter how much he resented Percy Jack-

son; Nico would do anything for him. He

hated himself for that.

‘So …’ Reyna’s voice jarred him from his

thoughts. ‘Will Camp Half-Blood wait for

August first, or will they attack?’

‘We have to hope they wait,’ Nico said. ‘We

can’t … I can’t get the statue back any faster.’

299/982

Even at this rate, my dad thinks I might

die. Nico kept that thought private.

He wished Hazel was with him. Together

they had shadow-travelled the entire crew of

the Argo II out of the House of Hades. When they shared their power, Nico felt like anything was possible. The trip to Camp Half-

Blood could’ve been done in half the time.

Besides, Hades’s words about one of the

crew dying had sent a chill through him. He

couldn’t lose Hazel. Not another sister. Not

again.

Coach Hedge looked up from counting the

change in his baseball cap. ‘And you’re sure

Clarisse said Mellie was okay?’

‘Yes, Coach. Clarisse is taking good care of

her.’

‘That’s a relief. I don’t like what Grover

said about Gaia whispering to the nymphs

and dryads. If the nature spirits turn evil …

that’s not going to be pretty.’

300/982

Nico had never heard of such a thing hap-

pening. Then again, Gaia hadn’t been awake

since the dawn of humanity.

Reyna took a bite of her pastry. Her chain

mail glittered in the afternoon sun. ‘I wonder

about these wolves … Is it possible we’ve

misunderstood the message? The goddess

Lupa has been very quiet. Perhaps she is

sending us aid. The wolves could be from her

– to defend us from Orion and his pack.’

The hopefulness in her voice was as thin as

gauze. Nico decided not to rip through it.

‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But wouldn’t Lupa be

busy with the war between the camps? I

thought she’d be sending wolves to help your

legion.’

Reyna shook her head. ‘Wolves are not

front-line fighters. I don’t think she would

help Octavian. Her wolves might be

patrolling Camp Jupiter, defending it in the

legion’s absence, but I just don’t know …’

301/982

She crossed her legs at the ankles, and the

iron tips of her combat boots glinted. Nico

made a mental note not to get into any kick-

ing contests with Roman legionnaires.

‘There’s something else,’ she said. ‘I

haven’t had any luck contacting my sister,

Hylla. It makes me uneasy that both the

wolves and the Amazons have gone silent. If something has happened on the West Coast

… I fear the only hope for either camp lies

with us. We must return the statue soon.

That means the greatest burden is on you,

son of Hades.’

Nico tried to swallow his bile. He wasn’t

mad at Reyna. He kind of liked Reyna. But so

often he’d been called on to do the im-

possible. Normally, as soon as he accom-

plished it, he was forgotten.

He remembered how nice the kids at

Camp Half-Blood had been to him after the

war with Kronos. Great job, Nico! Thanks

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for bringing the armies of the Underworld

to save us!

Everybody smiled. They all invited him to

sit at their table.

After about a week, his welcome wore thin.

Campers would jump when he walked up be-

hind them. He would emerge from the shad-

ows at the campfire, startle somebody and

see the discomfort in their eyes: Are you still here? Why are you here?

It didn’t help that immediately after the

war with Kronos, Annabeth and Percy had

started dating …

Nico set down his fartura. Suddenly it

didn’t taste so good.

He recalled his talk with Annabeth at

Epirus, just before he’d left with the Athena

Parthenos.

She’d pulled him aside and said, ‘Hey, I

have to talk to you.’

Panic had seized him. She knows.

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‘I want to thank you,’ she continued. ‘Bob

… the Titan … he only helped us in Tartarus

because you were kind to him. You told him

we were worth saving. That’s the only reason

we’re alive.’

She said we so easily, as if she and Percy were interchangeable, inseparable.

Nico had once read a story from Plato,

who claimed that in the ancient times all hu-

mans had been a combination of male and

female. Each person had two heads, four

arms, four legs. Supposedly, these combo-

humans had been so powerful they made the

gods uneasy, so Zeus split them in half –

man and woman. Ever since, humans had

felt incomplete. They spent their lives

searching for their other halves.

And where does that leave me? Nico

wondered.

It wasn’t his favourite story.

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He wanted to hate Annabeth, but he just

couldn’t. She’d gone out of her way to thank

him at Epirus. She was genuine and sincere.

She never overlooked him or avoided him

like most people did. Why couldn’t she be a

horrible person? That would’ve made it

easier.

The wind god Favonius had warned him in

Croatia: If you let your anger rule you …

your fate will be even sadder than mine.

But how could his fate be anything but

sad? Even if he lived through this quest, he

would have to leave both camps forever. That

was the only way he would find peace. He

wished there was another option – a choice

that didn’t hurt like the waters of the Phle-

gethon – but he couldn’t see one.

Reyna was studying him, probably trying

to read his thoughts. She glanced down at his

hands, and Nico realized he was twisting his

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silver skull ring – the last gift Bianca had giv-

en him.

‘Nico, how can we help you?’ Reyna asked.

Another question he wasn’t used to

hearing.

‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. ‘You’ve already

let me rest as much as possible. That’s im-

portant. Perhaps you can lend me your

strength again. This next jump will be the

longest. I’ll have to muster enough energy to

get us across the Atlantic.’

‘You’ll succeed,’ Reyna promised. ‘Once

we’re back in the U.S., we should encounter

fewer monsters. I might even be able to get

help from retired legionnaires along the east-

ern seaboard. They are obliged to aid any

Roman demigod who calls on them.’

Hedge grunted. ‘If Octavian hasn’t already

won them over. In which case, you might

find yourself arrested for treason.’

‘Coach,’ Reyna scolded, ‘not helping.’

306/982

‘Hey, just sayin’. Personally, I wish we

could stay in Évora longer. Good food, good

money and so far no sign of these figurative

wolves –’

Reyna’s dogs sprang to their feet.

In the distance, howls pierced the air. Be-

fore Nico could stand, wolves appeared from

every direction – huge black beasts leaping

from the roofs, surrounding their

encampment.

The largest of them padded forward. The

alpha wolf stood on his haunches and began

to change. His forelegs grew into arms. His

snout shrank into a pointy nose. His grey fur

morphed into a cloak of woven animal pelts.

He became a tall, wiry man with a haggard

face and glowing red eyes. A crown of finger

bones circled his greasy black hair.

‘Ah, little satyr …’ The man grinned, re-

vealing pointed fangs. ‘Your wish is granted!

You will stay in Évora forever, because, sadly

307/982

for you, my figurative wolves are literally

wolves.’

X V I

Nico

‘YOU’RE NOT ORION,’ Nico blurted.

A stupid comment, but it was the first

thing that came to his mind.

The man before him clearly was not a

hunter giant. He wasn’t tall enough. He

didn’t have dragon legs. He didn’t carry a

bow or quiver, and he didn’t have the head-

lamp eyes Reyna had described from her

dream.

The grey man laughed. ‘Indeed not. Orion

has merely employed me to assist him in his

hunt. I am –’

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‘Lycaon,’ Reyna interrupted. ‘The first

werewolf.’

The man gave her a mock bow. ‘Reyna

Ramírez-Arellano, praetor of Rome. One of

Lupa’s whelps! I’m pleased you recognize

me. No doubt, I am the stuff of your

nightmares.’

‘The stuff of my indigestion, perhaps.’

From her belt pouch, Reyna produced a fold-

able camping knife. She flicked it open and

the wolves snarled, backing away. ‘I never

travel without a silver weapon.’

Lycaon bared his teeth. ‘Would you keep a

dozen wolves and their king at bay with a

pocketknife? I heard you were brave, filia

Romana. I did not realize you were foolhardy.’

Reyna’s dogs crouched, ready to spring.

The coach gripped his baseball bat, though

for once he didn’t look anxious to swing.

Nico reached for the hilt of his sword.

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‘Don’t bother,’ muttered Coach Hedge.

‘These guys are only hurt by silver or fire. I

remember them from Pikes Peak. They’re

annoying.’

‘And I remember you, Gleeson Hedge.’ The

werewolf’s eyes glowed lava red. ‘My pack

will be delighted to have goat meat for

dinner.’

Hedge snorted. ‘Bring it on, mangy boy.

The Hunters of Artemis are on their way

right now, just like last time! That’s a temple

of Diana over there, you idiot. You’re on

their home turf!’

Again the wolves snarled and widened

their circle. Some glanced nervously towards

the rooftops.

Lycaon only glared at the coach. ‘A nice

try, but I’m afraid that temple has been mis-

named. I passed through here during Roman

times. It was actually dedicated to the Em-

peror Augustus. Typical demigod vanity.

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Regardless, I’ve been much more careful

since our last encounter. If the Hunters were

anywhere close by, I would know.’

Nico tried to think of an escape plan. They

were surrounded and outnumbered. Their

only effective weapon was a pocketknife. The

sceptre of Diocletian was gone. The Athena

Parthenos was thirty feet above them at the

top of the temple, and even if they could

reach it they couldn’t shadow-travel until

they actually had shadows. The sun wouldn’t set for hours.

He hardly felt brave, but he stepped for-

ward. ‘So you’ve got us. What are you waiting

for?’

Lycaon studied him like a new type of

meat in a butcher’s display case. ‘Nico di An-

gelo … son of Hades. I’ve heard of you. I’m

sorry I can’t kill you promptly, but I prom-

ised my employer Orion that I would detain

you until he arrives. No worries. He should

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be here in a few moments. Once he’s done

with you, I shall spill your blood and mark

this place as my territory for ages to come!’

Nico gritted his teeth. ‘Demigod blood.

The blood of Olympus.’

‘Of course!’ Lycaon said. ‘Spilled upon the

ground, especially sacred ground, demigod

blood has many uses. With the proper in-

cantations, it can awaken monsters or even

gods. It can cause new life to spring up or

make a place barren for generations. Alas,

your blood will not wake Gaia herself. That honour is reserved for your friends aboard

the Argo II. But fear not. Your death will be almost as painful as theirs.’

The grass started dying around Nico’s feet.

The marigold beds withered. Barren ground,

he thought. Sacred ground.

He remembered the thousands of skelet-

ons in the Chapel of Bones. He recalled what

Hades had said about this public square,

314/982

where the Inquisition had burned hundreds

of people alive.

This was an ancient city. How many dead

lay in the ground beneath his feet?

‘Coach,’ he said, ‘you can climb?’

Hedge scoffed. ‘I’m half goat. Of course I can climb!’

‘Get up to the statue and secure the rig-

ging. Make a rope ladder and drop it down

for us.’

‘Uh, but the pack of wolves –’

‘Reyna,’ Nico said, ‘you and your dogs will

have to cover our retreat.’

The praetor nodded grimly. ‘Understood.’

Lycaon howled with laughter. ‘Retreat to

where, son of Hades? There is no escape.

You cannot kill us!’

‘Maybe not,’ Nico said. ‘But I can slow you

down.’

He spread his hands and the ground

erupted.

315/982

Nico hadn’t expected it to work so well. He

had pulled bone fragments from the earth

before. He’d animated rat skeletons and un-

earthed the odd human skull. Nothing pre-

pared him for the wall of bones that burst

skyward – hundreds of femurs, ribs and fib-

ulas entangling the wolves, forming a spiky

briar patch of human remains.

Most of the wolves were hopelessly

trapped. Some writhed and gnashed their

teeth, trying to free themselves from their

haphazard cages. Lycaon himself was im-

mobilized in a cocoon of rib bones, but that

didn’t stop him from screaming curses.

‘You worthless child!’ he roared. ‘I will rip

the flesh from your limbs!’

‘Coach, go!’ Nico said.

The satyr sprinted towards the temple. He

made the top of the podium in a single leap

and scrambled up the left pillar.

316/982

Two wolves broke free from the thicket of

bones. Reyna threw her knife and impaled

one in the neck. Her dogs pounced on the

other. Aurum’s fangs and claws slipped

harmlessly off the wolf’s hide, but Argentum

brought the beast down.

Argentum’s head was still bent sideways

from the fight in Pompeii. His left ruby eye

was still missing, but he managed to sink his

fangs into the wolf’s scruff. The wolf dis-

solved into a puddle of shadow.

Thank goodness for silver dogs, Nico

thought.

Reyna drew her sword. She scooped a

handful of silver coins from Hedge’s baseball

cap, grabbed duct tape from the coach’s sup-

ply bag and began taping coins around her

blade. The girl was nothing if not inventive.

‘Go!’ she told Nico. ‘I’ll cover you!’

The wolves struggled, causing the bone

thicket to crack and crumble. Lycaon freed

317/982

his right arm and began smashing through

his prison of ribcages.

‘I will flay you alive!’ he promised. ‘I will

add your pelt to my cloak!’

Nico ran, pausing just long enough to grab

Reyna’s silver pocketknife from the ground.

He wasn’t a mountain goat, but he found a

set of stairs at the back of the temple and

raced to the top. He reached the base of the

columns and squinted up at Coach Hedge,

who was precariously perched at the feet of

the Athena Parthenos, unravelling ropes and

knotting a ladder.

‘Hurry!’ Nico yelled.

‘Oh, really?’ the coach called down. ‘I

thought we had tons of time!’

The last thing Nico needed was satyr sar-

casm. Down in the square, more wolves

broke free of their bone restraints. Reyna

swatted them aside with her modified duct-

tape-coin-sword, but a handful of change

318/982

wasn’t going to hold back a pack of were-

wolves for long. Aurum snarled and snapped

in frustration, unable to hurt the enemy. Ar-

gentum did his best, sinking his claws into

the throat of another wolf, but the silver dog

was already damaged. Soon he’d be hope-

lessly outnumbered.

Lycaon freed both his arms. He started

pulling his legs from their ribcage restraints.

There were only a few seconds until he would

be loose.

Nico was out of tricks. Summoning that

wall of bones had drained him. It would take

all his remaining energy to shadow-travel –

assuming he could even find a shadow to

travel into.

A shadow.

He looked at the silver pocketknife in his

hand. An idea came to him – possibly the

stupidest, craziest idea he’d had since he

319/982

thought, Hey, I’ll get Percy to swim in the

River Styx! He’ll love me for that!

‘Reyna, get up here!’ he yelled.

She slammed another wolf in the head and

ran. In mid-stride, she flicked her sword,

which elongated into a javelin, then used it

to launch herself up like a pole-vaulter. She

landed next to Nico.

‘What’s the plan?’ she asked, not even out

of breath.

‘Show-off,’ he grumbled.

A knotted rope fell from above.

‘Climb, ya silly non-goats!’ Hedge yelled.

‘Go,’ Nico told her. ‘Once you’re up there,

hang on tight to the rope.’

‘Nico –’

‘Do it!’

Her javelin shrank back into a sword.

Reyna sheathed it and began to climb, scal-

ing the column despite her armour and her

supplies.

320/982

Down in the plaza, Aurum and Argentum

were nowhere to be seen. Either they’d re-

treated or they’d been destroyed.

Lycaon broke free of his bone cage with a

triumphant howl. ‘You will suffer, son of

Hades!’

What else is new? Nico thought.

He palmed the pocketknife. ‘Come get me,

you mutt! Or do you have to stay like a good dog until your master shows up?’

Lycaon sprang through the air, his claws

extended, his fangs bared. Nico wrapped his

free hand around the rope and concentrated,

a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.

As the wolf king fell on him, Nico thrust

the silver knife into Lycaon’s chest. All

around the temple, wolves howled as one.

The wolf king sank his claws into Nico’s

arms. His fangs stopped less than an inch

from Nico’s face. Nico ignored his own pain

321/982

and jabbed the pocketknife to the hilt

between Lycaon’s ribs.

‘Be useful, dog,’ he snarled. ‘Back to the

shadows.’

Lycaon’s eyes rolled up in his head. He

dissolved into a pool of inky darkness.

Then several things happened at once. The

outraged pack of wolves surged forward.

From a nearby rooftop, a booming voice

yelled, ‘STOP THEM!’

Nico heard the unmistakable sound of a

large bow being drawn taut.

Then he melted into the pool of Lycaon’s

shadow, taking his friends and the Athena

Parthenos with him – slipping into cold eth-

er with no idea where he would emerge.

X V I I

Piper

PIPER COULDN’T BELIEVE how hard it was to

find deadly poison.

All morning she and Frank had scoured

the port of Pylos. Frank allowed only Piper to

come with him, thinking her charmspeak

might be useful if they ran into his shape-

shifting relatives.

As it turned out, her sword was more in

demand. So far, they’d slain a Laistrygonian

ogre in the bakery, battled a giant warthog in the public square and defeated a flock of

Stymphalian birds with some well-aimed ve-

getables from Piper’s cornucopia.

324/982

She was glad for the work. It kept her from

dwelling on her conversation with her moth-

er the night before – that bleak glimpse of

the future Aphrodite had made her promise

not to share …

Meanwhile, Piper’s biggest challenge in

Pylos was the ads plastered all over town for

her dad’s new movie. The posters were in

Greek, but Piper knew what they said:

TRISTAN MCLEAN IS JAKE STEEL: SIGNED IN BLOOD.

Gods, what a horrible title. She wished her

father had never taken on the Jake Steel

franchise, but it had become one of his most

popular roles. There he was on the poster,

his shirt ripped open to reveal perfect abs

(gross, Dad!), an AK-47 in each hand, a rak-

ish smile on his chiselled face.

Halfway across the world, in the smallest,

most out-of-the-way town imaginable, there

was her dad. It made Piper feel sad, disori-

ented, homesick and annoyed all at once.

325/982

Life went on. So did Hollywood. While her

dad pretended to save the world, Piper and

her friends actually had to. In eight more days, unless Piper could pull off the plan

Aphrodite had explained … well, there

wouldn’t be any more movies, or theatres, or

people.

Around one in the afternoon, Piper finally

put her charmspeak to work. She spoke with

an Ancient Greek ghost in a Laundromat (on

a one-to-ten scale for weird conversations,

definitely an eleven) and got directions to an

ancient stronghold where the shape-shifting

descendants of Periclymenus supposedly

hung out.

After trudging across the island in the af-

ternoon heat, they found the cave perched

halfway up a beachside cliff. Frank insisted

that Piper wait for him at the bottom while

he checked it out.

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Piper wasn’t happy about that, but she

stood obediently on the beach, squinting up

at the cave entrance and hoping she hadn’t

guided Frank into a death trap.

Behind her, a stretch of white sand hugged

the foot of the hills. Sunbathers sprawled on

blankets. Little kids splashed in the waves.

The blue sea glittered invitingly.

Piper wished she could surf those waters.

She’d promised to teach Hazel and Annabeth

someday, if they ever came out to Malibu …

if Malibu still existed after 1 August.

She glanced up at the cliff’s summit. The

ruins of an old castle clung to the ridge. Piper

wasn’t sure if that was part of the shape-

changers’ hideout or not. Nothing moved on

the parapets. The entrance of the cave sat

about seventy feet down the cliff face – a

circle of black in the chalky yellow rock like

the hole of a giant pencil sharpener.

327/982

Nestor’s Cave, the Laundromat ghost had called it. Supposedly the ancient king of

Pylos had stashed his treasure there in times

of crisis. The ghost also claimed that Hermes

had once hidden the stolen cattle of Apollo in

that cave.

Cows.

Piper shuddered. When she was little, her

dad had driven her past a meat-processing

plant in Chino. The smell had been enough

to turn her into a vegetarian. Ever since, just

the thought of cows made her ill. Her experi-

ences with Hera the cow queen, the katoble-

pones of Venice and the pictures of creepy death cows in the House of Hades hadn’t

helped.

Piper was just starting to think, Frank’s

been gone too long – when he appeared at

the cave entrance. Next to him stood a tall

grey-haired man in a white linen suit and a

pale yellow tie. The older man pressed a

328/982

small shiny object – like a stone or a piece of

glass – into Frank’s hands. He and Frank ex-

changed a few words. Frank nodded gravely.

Then the man turned into a seagull and flew

away.

Frank picked his way down the trail until

he reached Piper.

‘I found them,’ he said.

‘I noticed. You okay?’

He stared at the seagull as it flew towards

the horizon.

Frank’s close-cropped hair pointed for-

ward like an arrow, making his gaze even

more intense. His Roman badges – mural

crown, centurion, praetor – glittered on his shirt collar. On his forearm, the SPQR tattoo

with the crossed spears of Mars stood out

darkly in the full sunlight.

He looked good in his new outfit. The gi-

ant warthog had slimed his old clothes pretty

badly, so Piper had taken him for some

329/982

emergency shopping in Pylos. Now he wore

new black jeans, soft leather boots and a

dark green Henley shirt that fitted him

snugly. He’d been self-conscious about the

shirt. He was used to hiding his bulk in

baggy clothes, but Piper assured him he

didn’t have to worry about that any more.

Since his growth spurt in Venice, he’d grown

into his bulkiness just fine.

You haven’t changed, Frank, she’d told

him. You’re just more you .

It was a good thing Frank Zhang was still

so sweet and soft-spoken. Otherwise he

would’ve been a scary guy.

‘Frank?’ she prompted gently.

‘Yeah, sorry.’ He focused on her. ‘My, uh …

cousins, I guess you’d call them … they’ve

been living here for generations, all descen-

ded from Periclymenus the Argonaut. I told

them my story, how the Zhang family had

gone from Greece to Rome to China to

330/982

Canada. I told them about the legionnaire

ghost I saw in the House of Hades, urging

me to come to Pylos. They … they didn’t

seem surprised. They said it’s happened

before, long-lost relatives coming home.’

Piper heard the wistfulness in his voice.

‘You were expecting something different.’

He shrugged. ‘A bigger welcome. Some

party balloons. I’m not sure. My grandmoth-

er told me I would close the circle – bring

our family honour and all that. But my cous-

ins here … they acted kind of cold and dis-

tant, like they didn’t want me around. I don’t

think they liked that I’m a son of Mars. Hon-

estly, I don’t think they liked that I’m

Chinese, either.’

Piper glared into the sky. The seagull was

long gone, which was probably a good thing.

She would have been tempted to shoot it out

of the air with a glazed ham. ‘If your cousins

331/982

feel that way, they’re idiots. They don’t know

how great you are.’

Frank shuffled from foot to foot. ‘They got

a little more friendly when I told them I was

just passing through. They gave me a going-

away present.’

He opened his hand. In his palm gleamed

a metallic vial no bigger than an eyedropper.

Piper resisted the urge to step away. ‘Is

that the poison?’

Frank nodded. ‘They call it Pylosian mint.

Apparently the plant sprang from the blood

of a nymph who died on a mountain near

here, back in ancient times. I didn’t ask for

details.’

The vial was so tiny … Piper worried there

wouldn’t be enough. Normally she didn’t

wish for more deadly poison. Nor was she

sure how it would help them make the so-

called physician’s cure that Nike had men-

tioned. But, if the cure could really cheat

332/982

death, Piper wanted to brew a six-pack – one

dose for each of her friends.

Frank rolled the vial around in his palm. ‘I

wish Vitellius Reticulus were here.’

Piper wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

‘Ridiculous who?’

A smile flickered across his mouth. ‘Gaius

Vitellius Reticulus, although we did call him Ridiculous sometimes. He was one of the

Lares of the Fifth Cohort. Kind of a goofball,

but he was the son of Aesculapius, the heal-

ing god. If anybody knew about this physi-

cian’s cure … he might.’

‘A healing god would be nice,’ Piper

mused. ‘Better than having a screaming,

tied-up victory goddess on board.’

‘Hey, you’re lucky. My cabin is closest to

the stables. I can hear her yelling all night:

FIRST PLACE OR DEATH! AN A-MINUS IS

A FAILING GRADE! Leo really needs to

design a gag that’s better than my old sock.’

333/982

Piper shuddered. She still didn’t under-

stand why it had been a good idea to take the

goddess captive. The sooner they got rid of

Nike, the better. ‘So your cousins … did they

have any advice about what comes next?

This chained god we’re supposed to find in

Sparta?’

Frank’s expression darkened. ‘Yeah. I’m

afraid they had some thoughts on that. Let’s

get back to the ship and I’ll tell you about it.’

Piper’s feet were killing her. She wondered

if she could convince Frank to turn into a gi-

ant eagle and carry her, but, before she could

ask, she heard footsteps in the sand behind

them.

‘Hello, nice tourists!’ A scraggly fisherman

with a white captain’s hat and a mouth full of

gold teeth beamed at them. ‘Boat ride? Very

cheap!’

He gestured to the shore, where a skiff

with an outboard motor waited.

334/982

Piper returned his smile. She loved it when

she could communicate with the locals.

‘Yes, please,’ she said in her best charm-

speak. ‘And we’d like you to take us some-

where special.’

The boat captain dropped them at the Argo

II, anchored a quarter of a mile out to sea.

Piper pressed a wad of euros into the cap-

tain’s hands.

She wasn’t above using charmspeak on

mortals, but she’d decided to be as fair and

careful as possible. Her days of stealing

BMWs from car dealerships were over.

‘Thank you,’ she told him. ‘If anyone asks,

you took us around the island and showed us

the sights. You dropped us at the docks in

Pylos. You never saw any giant warship.’

‘No warship,’ the captain agreed. ‘Thank

you, nice American tourists!’

335/982

They climbed aboard the Argo II and

Frank smiled at her awkwardly. ‘Well … nice

killing giant warthogs with you.’

Piper laughed. ‘You too, Mr Zhang.’

She gave him a hug, which seemed to

fluster him, but Piper couldn’t help liking

Frank. Not only was he a kind and consider-

ate boyfriend to Hazel, but whenever Piper

saw him wearing Jason’s old praetor’s badge

she felt grateful to him for stepping up and

accepting that job. He had taken a huge re-

sponsibility off Jason’s shoulders and left

him free (Piper hoped) to pursue a new path

at Camp Half-Blood … assuming, of course,

that they all lived through the next eight

days.

The crew gathered for a hurried meeting

on the foredeck – mostly because Percy was

keeping an eye on a giant red sea serpent

swimming off the port side.

336/982

‘That thing is really red,’ Percy muttered.

‘I wonder if it’s cherry-flavoured.’

‘Why don’t you swim over and find out?’

Annabeth asked.

‘How about no.’

‘Anyway,’ Frank said, ‘according to my

Pylos cousins, the chained god we’re looking

for in Sparta is my dad … uh, I mean Ares,

not Mars. Apparently the Spartans kept a statue of him chained up in their city so the

spirit of war would never leave them.’

‘Oo-kay,’ Leo said. ‘The Spartans were

freaks. Of course, we’ve got Victory tied up

downstairs, so I guess we can’t talk.’

Jason leaned against the forward ballista.

‘On to Sparta, then. But how does a chained

god’s heartbeat help us find a cure for

dying?’

From the tightness in his face, Piper could

tell he was still in pain. She remembered

what Aphrodite had told her: It’s not just his

337/982

sword wound, my dear. It’s the ugly truth

he saw in Ithaca. If the poor boy doesn’t

stay strong, that truth will eat right through

him.

‘Piper?’ Hazel asked.

She stirred. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘I was asking you about the visions,’ Hazel

prompted. ‘You told me you’d seen some

stuff in your dagger blade?’

‘Uh … right.’ Piper reluctantly unsheathed

Katoptris. Ever since she’d used it to stab the

snow goddess Khione, the visions in the

blade had become colder and harsher, like

images etched in ice. She’d seen eagles swirl-

ing over Camp Half-Blood, a wave of earth

destroying New York. She’d seen scenes from

the past: her father beaten and bound at the

top of Mount Diablo, Jason and Percy fight-

ing giants in the Roman Colosseum, the river

god Achelous reaching out to her, pleading

for the cornucopia she’d cut from his head.

338/982

‘I, um …’ She tried to clear her thoughts. ‘I

don’t see anything right now. But one vision

kept popping up. Annabeth and I are explor-

ing some ruins –’

‘Ruins!’ Leo rubbed his hands. ‘Now we’re

talking. How many ruins can there be in

Greece?’

‘Quiet, Leo,’ Annabeth scolded. ‘Piper, do

you think it was Sparta?’

‘Maybe,’ Piper said. ‘Anyway … suddenly

we’re in this dark place like a cave. We’re

staring at this bronze warrior statue. In the

vision I touch the statue’s face and flames

start swirling around us. That’s all I saw.’

‘Flames.’ Frank scowled. ‘I don’t like that

vision.’

‘Me neither.’ Percy kept one eye on the red

sea serpent, which was still slithering

through the waves about a hundred yards to

port. ‘If the statue engulfs people in fire, we

should send Leo.’

339/982

‘I love you too, man.’

‘You know what I mean. You’re immune.

Or, heck, give me some of those nice water

grenades and I’ll go. Ares and I have tangled before.’

Annabeth stared at the coastline of Pylos,

now retreating in the distance. ‘If Piper saw

the two of us going after the statue, then

that’s who should go. We’ll be all right.

There’s always a way to survive.’

‘Not always,’ Hazel warned.

Since she was the only one in the group

who had actually died and come back to life,

her observation sort of killed the mood.

Frank held out the vial of Pylosian mint.

‘What about this stuff? After the House of

Hades, I kind of hoped we were done drink-

ing poison.’

‘Store it securely in the hold,’ Annabeth

said. ‘For now, that’s all we can do. Once we

340/982

figure out this chained god situation, we’ll

head to the island of Delos.’

‘ The curse of Delos,’ Hazel remembered.

‘That sounds fun.’

‘Hopefully Apollo will be there,’ Annabeth

said. ‘Delos was his home island. He’s the

god of medicine. He should be able to advise

us.’

Aphrodite’s words came back to Piper: You

must bridge the gap between Roman and

Greek, my child. Neither storm nor fire can

succeed without you.

Aphrodite had warned her of what was to

come, told her what Piper would have to do

to stop Gaia. Whether or not she would have

the courage … Piper didn’t know.

Off the port bow, the cherry-flavoured sea

serpent spewed steam.

‘Yeah, it’s definitely checking us out,’ Percy

decided. ‘Maybe we should take to the air for

a while.’

341/982

‘Airborne it is!’ Leo said. ‘Festus, do the

honours!’

The bronze dragon figurehead creaked and

clacked. The ship’s engine hummed. The

oars lifted, expanding into aerial blades with

a sound like ninety umbrellas opening at

once, and the Argo II rose into the sky.

‘We should reach Sparta by morning,’ Leo

announced. ‘And remember to come by the

mess hall tonight, folks, ’cause Chef Leo is

making his famous three-alarm tofu tacos!’

X V I I I

Piper

PIPER DIDN’T WANT TO get yelled at by a

three-legged table.

When Jason visited her cabin that evening,

she made sure to keep the door open, be-

cause Buford the Wonder Table took his du-

ties as acting chaperone very seriously. If he

had the slightest suspicion a girl and a boy

were in the same cabin without supervision,

he would steam and clatter down the hall, his

holographic projection of Coach Hedge

yelling, ‘CUT THAT OUT! GIVE ME

TWENTY PUSH-UPS! PUT SOME

CLOTHES ON!’

344/982

Jason sat at the foot of her bunk. ‘I was

about to go on duty. Just wanted to check on

you first.’

Piper nudged his leg with her foot. ‘The

guy who got run through with a sword wants

to check on me? How are you feeling?’

He gave her a lopsided smile. His face was

so tanned from their time on the coast of

Africa that the scar on his lip looked like a

chalk mark. His blue eyes were even more

startling. His hair had grown out corn-silk

white, though he still had a groove along his

scalp where he’d been grazed by a bullet

from the bandit Sciron’s flintlock. If such a

minor scrape from Celestial bronze took so

long to heal, Piper wondered how he’d ever

get over the Imperial gold wound in his gut.

‘I’ve been worse,’ Jason assured her.

‘Once, in Oregon, this dracaena cut off my arms.’

345/982

Piper blinked. Then she slapped his arm

gently. ‘Shut up.’

‘I had you for a second.’

They held hands in comfortable silence.

For a moment, Piper could almost imagine

they were normal teenagers, enjoying each

other’s company and learning to be together

as a couple. Sure, Jason and she had had a

few months at Camp Half-Blood, but the war

with Gaia had always been looming. Piper

wondered what it would be like if they didn’t

have to worry about dying a dozen times

every day.

‘I never thanked you.’ Jason’s expression

turned serious. ‘Back on Ithaca, after I saw

my mom’s … remnant, her mania … When I

was wounded, you kept me from slipping

away, Pipes. Part of me …’ His voice faltered.

‘Part of me wanted to close my eyes and stop

fighting.’

346/982

Piper’s heart did a slow twist. She felt her

own pulse in her fingers. ‘Jason … you’re a

fighter. You’d never give up. When you faced

your mother’s spirit – that was you being

strong. Not me.’

‘Maybe.’ His voice was dry. ‘I didn’t mean

to lay something so heavy on you, Pipes. It’s

just … I have my mom’s DNA. The human

part of me is all her. What if I make the

wrong choices? What if I make a mistake I

can’t take back when we’re fighting Gaia? I

don’t want to end up like my mom – reduced

to a mania, chewing on my regrets forever.’

Piper cupped her hands around his. She

felt like she was back on the deck of the Argo

II, holding the Boreads’ ice grenade just before it detonated.

‘You’ll make the right choices,’ she said. ‘I

don’t know what will happen to any of us,

but you could never end up like your mom.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

347/982

Piper studied the tattoo on his forearm –

SPQR, the eagle of Jupiter, twelve lines for his

years in the legion. ‘My dad used to tell me

this story about making choices …’ She shook

her head. ‘No, never mind. I’ll sound like

Grandpa Tom.’

‘Go on,’ Jason said. ‘What’s the story?’

‘Well … these two Cherokee hunters were

out in the woods, right? Each of them was

under a taboo.’

‘A taboo – something they weren’t allowed

to do.’

‘Yeah.’ Piper began to relax. She wondered

if this was why her dad and granddad always

liked telling stories. You could make even the

most terrifying topic easier to talk about by

framing it as something that happened to a

couple of Cherokee hunters hundreds of

years ago. Take a problem; turn it into enter-

tainment. Perhaps that’s why her dad had

become an actor.

348/982

‘So one of the hunters,’ she continued, ‘he

wasn’t supposed to eat deer meat. The other

guy wasn’t supposed to eat squirrel meat.’

‘Why?’

‘Hey, I don’t know. Some Cherokee taboos

were permanent no-no’s, like killing eagles.’

She tapped the symbol on Jason’s arm. ‘ That

was bad luck for almost everybody. But

sometimes, individual Cherokee took on

temporary taboos – maybe to cleanse their

spirit, or because they knew, from listening to the spirit world or whatever, that the taboo was important. They went with their

instincts.’

‘Okay.’ Jason sounded unsure. ‘So back to

these two hunters.’

‘They were out hunting in the woods all

day. The only things they caught were squir-

rels. At night they made camp, and the guy

who could eat squirrel meat started cooking it over the fire.’

349/982

‘Yum.’

‘Another reason I’m a vegetarian. Anyway,

the second hunter, who wasn’t allowed squir-

rell meat – he was starving. He just sat there clutching his stomach while his friend ate.

Finally the first hunter started feeling guilty.

“Ah, go ahead,” he said. “Eat some.” But the

second hunter resisted. “It’s taboo for me. I’ll

get in serious trouble. I’ll probably turn into

a snake or something.” The first hunter

laughed. “Where did you get that crazy idea?

Nothing will happen to you. You can go back

to avoiding squirrel meat tomorrow.” The

second hunter knew he shouldn’t, but he

ate.’

Jason traced his finger across her

knuckles, which made it hard to concentrate.

‘What happened?’

‘In the middle of the night, the second

hunter woke up screaming in pain. The first

hunter ran over to see what was wrong. He

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threw off his friend’s covers and saw that his

friend’s legs had fused together in a leathery

tail. As he watched, snakeskin crept up his

friend’s body. The poor hunter wept and

apologized to the spirits and cried in fear,

but there was nothing to be done. The first

hunter stayed by his side and tried to com-

fort him until the unfortunate guy fully

transformed into a giant snake and slithered

away. The end.’

‘I love these Cherokee stories,’ Jason said.

‘They’re so cheerful.’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘So the guy turned into a snake. The moral

is: Frank has been eating squirrels?’

She laughed, which felt good. ‘No, stupid.

The point is, trust your instincts. Squirrel

meat might be just fine for one person, but

taboo for another. The second hunter knew

he had a serpent spirit inside him, waiting to

take over. He knew he shouldn’t feed that

351/982

bad spirit by eating squirrel meat, but he did

it anyway.’

‘So … I shouldn’t eat squirrels.’

Piper was relieved to see the gleam in his

eyes. She thought about something Hazel

had confided to her a few nights ago: I think

Jason is the linchpin to Hera’s whole

scheme. He was her first play; he’s going to

be her last.

‘My point,’ Piper said, poking his chest, ‘is

that you, Jason Grace, are very familiar with

your own bad spirits, and you try your best

not to feed them. You have solid instincts,

and you know how to follow them. Whatever

annoying qualities you have, you are a genu-

inely good person who always tries to make

the right choice. So no more talk about giv-

ing up.’

Jason frowned. ‘Wait. I have annoying

qualities?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Come here.’

352/982

She was about to kiss him when there was

a knock on the door.

Leo leaned inside. ‘A party? Am I invited?’

Jason cleared his throat. ‘Hey, Leo. What’s

going on?’

‘Oh, not much.’ He pointed upstairs. ‘The

usual obnoxious venti trying to destroy the ship. You ready for guard duty?’

‘Yeah.’ Jason leaned forward and kissed

Piper. ‘Thanks. And don’t worry. I’m good.’

‘That,’ she told him, ‘was kind of my point.’

After the boys left, Piper lay on her

pegasus-down pillows and watched the con-

stellations her lamp projected on the ceiling.

She didn’t think she could sleep, but a full

day of fighting monsters in the summer heat

had taken its toll. At last she closed her eyes

and drifted into a nightmare.

The Acropolis.

353/982

Piper had never been there, but she recog-

nized it from pictures – an ancient strong-

hold perched on a hill almost as impressive

as Gibraltar. Rising four hundred feet over

the night-time sprawl of modern Athens, the

sheer cliffs were topped with a crown of

limestone walls. On the clifftop, a collection

of ruined temples and modern cranes

gleamed silver in the moonlight.

In her dream, Piper flew above the

Parthenon – the ancient temple of Athena, the left side of its hollow shell encased in

metal scaffolding.

The Acropolis seemed devoid of mortals,

perhaps because of the financial problems in

Greece. Or perhaps Gaia’s forces had ar-

ranged some pretext to keep the tourists and

construction workers away.

Piper’s view zoomed to the centre of the

temple. So many giants had gathered there it

looked like a cocktail party for redwood

354/982

trees. A few Piper recognized: those horrible

twins from Rome, Otis and Ephialtes, dressed in matching construction worker

outfits; Polybotes, looking just as Percy had

described him, with poison dripping from his

dreadlocks and a breastplate sculpted to re-

semble hungry mouths; worst of all, Ence-

ladus, the giant who had kidnapped Piper’s dad. His armour was etched with flame

designs, his hair braided with bones. His

flagpole-sized spear burned with purple fire.

Piper had heard that each giant was born

to oppose a particular god, but there were

way more than twelve giants gathered in the Parthenon. She counted at least twenty and,

if that wasn’t intimidating enough, around

the giants’ feet milled a horde of smaller

monsters – Cyclopes, ogres, six-armed

Earthborn and serpent-legged dracaenae.

In the centre of the crowd stood an empty,

makeshift throne of twisted scaffolding and

355/982

stone blocks apparently yanked at random

from the ruins.

As Piper watched, a new giant lumbered

up the steps at the far end of the Acropolis.

He wore a massive velour tracksuit with gold

chains around his neck and greased-back

hair, so he looked like a thirty-foot-tall mob-

ster – if mobsters had dragon feet and burnt-

orange skin. The mafia giant ran towards the

Parthenon and stumbled inside, flattening

several Earthborn under his feet. He

stopped, gasping for breath at the foot of the

throne.

‘Where is Porphyrion?’ he demanded. ‘I

have news!’

Piper’s old enemy Enceladus stepped for-

ward. ‘Tardy as usual, Hippolytos. I hope

your news is worth the wait. King Porphyri-

on should be …’

356/982

The ground between them split. An even

larger giant leaped from the earth like a

breaching whale.

‘King Porphyrion is here,’ announced the

king.

He looked just as Piper remembered from

the Wolf House in Sonoma. Forty feet tall, he

towered over his brethren. In fact, Piper real-

ized queasily, he was the same size as the

Athena Parthenos that had once dominated

the temple. In his seaweed-coloured braids,

captured demigod weapons glittered. His

face was cruel and pale green, his eyes as

white as the Mist. His body radiated its own

sort of gravity, causing the other monsters to

lean towards him. Soil and pebbles skittered

across the ground, pulled towards his

massive dragon feet.

The mobster giant Hippolytos kneeled.

‘My king, I bring word of the enemy!’

Porphyrion took his throne. ‘Speak.’

357/982

‘The demigod ship sails around the Pelo-

ponnese. Already they have destroyed the

ghosts at Ithaca and captured the goddess

Nike in Olympia!’

The crowd of monsters stirred uneasily. A

Cyclops chewed his fingernails. Two

dracaenae exchanged coins like they were

taking bets for the End-of-the-World office

sweepstake.

Porphyrion just laughed. ‘Hippolytos, do

you wish to kill your enemy Hermes and be-

come the messenger of the giants?’

‘Yes, my king!’

‘Then you will have to bring fresher news.

I know all this already. None of it matters!

The demigods have taken the route we ex-

pected them to take. They would have been

fools to go any other way.’

‘But, sire, they will arrive at Sparta by

morning! If they manage to unleash the

makhai –’

358/982

‘Idiot!’ Porphyrion’s voice shook the ruins.

‘Our brother Mimas awaits them at Sparta.

You need not worry. The demigods cannot

change their fate. One way or another, their

blood shall be spilled upon these stones and

wake the Earth Mother!’

The crowd roared approval and bran-

dished their weapons. Hippolytos bowed and

retreated, but another giant approached the

throne.

With a start, Piper realized this one was fe-

male. Not that it was easy to tell. The giantess had the same dragon-like legs and the

same long braided hair. She was just as tall

and burly as the males, but her breastplate

was definitely fashioned for a woman. Her

voice was higher and reedier.

‘Father!’ she cried. ‘I ask again: Why here,

in this place? Why not on the slopes of

Mount Olympus itself? Surely –’

359/982

‘Periboia,’ the king growled, ‘the matter is

settled. The original Mount Olympus is now

a barren peak. It offers us no glory. Here, in

the centre of the Greek world, the roots of

the gods truly run deep. There may be older

temples, but this Parthenon holds their

memory best. In the minds of mortals, it is

the most powerful symbol of the Olympians.

When the blood of the last heroes is spilled

here, the Acropolis shall be razed. This hill

shall crumble, and the entire city shall be

consumed by the Earth Mother. We will be

the masters of Creation!’

The crowd hollered and howled, but the gi-

antess Periboia didn’t look convinced.

‘You tempt fate, Father,’ she said. ‘The

demigods have friends here as well as en-

emies. It is not wise –’

‘WISE?’ Porphyrion rose from his throne.

All the giants took a step back. ‘Enceladus,

360/982

my counsellor, explain to my daughter what

wisdom is!’

The fiery giant came forward. His eyes

glowed like diamonds. Piper loathed his face.

She’d seen it too many times in her dreams

when her father was held captive.

‘You need not worry, princess,’ Enceladus

said. ‘We have taken Delphi. Apollo was driv-

en out of Olympus in shame. The future is

closed to the gods. They stumble forward

blindly. As for tempting fate …’ He gestured

to his left, and a smaller giant shuffled for-

ward. He had ratty grey hair, a wrinkled face

and eyes that were milky with cataracts. In-

stead of armour, he wore a tattered sackcloth

tunic. His dragon-scale legs were as white as

frost.

He didn’t look like much, but Piper no-

ticed that the other monsters kept their dis-

tance. Even Porphyrion leaned away from

the old giant.

361/982

‘This is Thoon,’ Enceladus said. ‘Just as

many of us were born to kill certain gods,

Thoon was born to kill the Three Fates. He will strangle the old ladies with his bare

hands. He will shred their yarn and destroy

their loom. He will destroy Fate itself!’

King Porphyrion rose and spread his arms

in triumph. ‘No more prophecies, my

friends! No more futures foretold! The time

of Gaia shall be our era, and we will make

our own destiny!’

The crowd cheered so loudly that Piper felt

as if she were crumbling to pieces.

Then she realized someone was shaking

her awake.

‘Hey,’ Annabeth said. ‘We made it to

Sparta. Can you get ready?’

Piper sat up groggily, her heart still

pounding.

‘Yeah …’ She gripped Annabeth’s arm. ‘But

first there’s something you need to hear.’

X I X

Piper

WHEN SHE RECOUNTED her dream for Percy,

the ship’s toilets exploded.

‘No way are you two going down there

alone,’ Percy said.

Leo ran down the hall waving a wrench.

‘Man, did you have to destroy the plumbing?’

Percy ignored him. Water ran down the

gangway. The hull rumbled as more pipes

burst and sinks overflowed. Piper guessed

that Percy hadn’t meant to cause so much

damage, but his glowering expression made

her want to leave the ship as soon as

possible.

364/982

‘We’ll be all right,’ Annabeth told him.

‘Piper foresaw the two of us going down

there, so that’s what needs to happen.’

Percy glared at Piper like it was all her

fault. ‘And this Mimas dude? I’m guessing

he’s a giant?’

‘Probably,’ she said. ‘Porphyrion called

him our brother.’

‘And a bronze statue surrounded by fire,’

Percy said. ‘And those … other things you

mentioned. Mackies?’

‘ Makhai,’ Piper said. ‘I think the word

means battles in Greek, but I don’t know

how that applies, exactly.’

‘That’s my point!’ Percy said. ‘We don’t

know what’s down there. I’m going with you.’

‘No.’ Annabeth put her hand on his arm. ‘If

the giants want our blood, the last thing we need is a boy and a girl going down there together. Remember? They want one of each

for their big sacrifice.’

365/982

‘Then I’ll get Jason,’ Percy said. ‘And the

two of us –’

‘Seaweed Brain, are you implying that two

boys can handle this better than two girls?’

‘No. I mean … no. But –’

Annabeth kissed him. ‘We’ll be back before

you know it.’

Piper followed her upstairs before the

whole lower deck could flood with toilet

water.

An hour later, the two of them stood on a hill

overlooking the ruins of Ancient Sparta.

They’d already scouted the modern city,

which, strangely, reminded Piper of Al-

buquerque – a bunch of low, boxy, white-

washed buildings sprawled across a plain at

the foot of some purplish mountains. Anna-

beth had insisted on checking the archae-

ology museum, then the giant metal statue of

the Spartan warrior in the public square,

366/982

then the National Museum of Olives and

Olive Oill (yes, that was a real thing). Piper

had learned more about olive oill than she

ever wanted to know, but no giants attacked

them. They found no statues of chained gods.

Annabeth seemed reluctant to check the

ruins on the edge of town, but finally they

ran out of other places to look.

There wasn’t much to see. According to

Annabeth, the hill they stood on had once

been Sparta’s acropolis – its highest point

and main fortress – but it was nothing like

the massive Athenian acropolis Piper had

seen in her dreams.

The weathered slope was covered with

dead grass, rocks and stunted olive trees.

Below, ruins stretched out for maybe a

quarter of a mile: limestone blocks, a few

broken walls and some tiled holes in the

ground like wells.

367/982

Piper thought about her dad’s most fam-

ous movie, King of Sparta, and how the

Spartans were portrayed as invincible super-

men. She found it sad that their legacy had

been reduced to a field of rubble and a small

modern town with an olive-oill museum.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead.

‘You’d think if there was a thirty-foot-tall gi-

ant around we’d see him.’

Annabeth stared at the distant shape of

the Argo II floating above downtown Sparta.

She fingered the red coral pendant on her

necklace – a gift from Percy when they star-

ted dating.

‘You’re thinking about Percy,’ Piper

guessed.

Annabeth nodded.

Since she’d come back from Tartarus, An-

nabeth had told Piper a lot of scary things

that had happened down there. At the top of

368/982

her list: Percy controlling a tide of poison

and suffocating the goddess Akhlys.

‘He seems to be adjusting,’ Piper said.

‘He’s smiling more often. You know he cares

about you more than ever.’

Annabeth sat, her face suddenly pale. ‘I

don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard all of

a sudden. I can’t quite get that memory out

of my head … how Percy looked when he was

standing at the edge of Chaos.’

Maybe Piper was just picking up on Anna-

beth’s uneasiness, but she started to feel

agitated as well.

She thought about what Jason had said

last night: Part of me wanted to close my

eyes and stop fighting.

She had tried her best to reassure him, but

still she worried. Like that Cherokee hunter

who changed into a serpent, all demigods

had their share of bad spirits inside. Fatal

369/982

flaws. Some crises brought them out. Some

lines shouldn’t be crossed.

If that was true for Jason, how could it not

be true for Percy? The guy had literally been

through hell and back. Even when he wasn’t

trying, he made the toilets explode. What

would Percy be like if he wanted to act

scary?

‘Give him time.’ She sat next to Annabeth.

‘The guy is crazy about you. You’ve been

through so much together.’

‘I know …’ Annabeth’s grey eyes reflected

the green of the olive trees. ‘It’s just … Bob

the Titan, he warned me there would be

more sacrifices ahead. I want to believe we

can have a normal life someday … But I al-

lowed myself to hope for that last summer,

after the Titan War. Then Percy disappeared

for months. Then we fell into that pit …’ A tear traced its way down her cheek. ‘Piper, if

you’d seen the face of the god Tartarus, all

370/982

swirling darkness, devouring monsters and

vaporizing them – I’ve never felt so helpless.

I try not to think about it …’

Piper took her friend’s hands. They were

trembling badly. She remembered her first

day at Camp Half-Blood, when Annabeth

had given her a tour. Annabeth had been

shaken up about Percy’s disappearance and,

though Piper was pretty disoriented and

scared herself, comforting Annabeth had

made her feel needed, like she might actually

have a place among these crazy-powerful

demigods.

Annabeth Chase was the bravest person

she knew. If even she needed a shoulder to cry on once in a while … well, Piper was glad

to offer hers.

‘Hey,’ she said gently. ‘Don’t try to shut out

the feelings. You won’t be able to. Just let

them wash over you and drain out again.

You’re scared.’

371/982

‘Gods, yes, I’m scared.’

‘You’re angry.’

‘At Percy for frightening me,’ she said. ‘At

my mom for sending me on that horrible

quest in Rome. At … well, pretty much every-

body. Gaia. The giants. The gods for being

jerks.’

‘At me?’ Piper asked.

Annabeth managed a shaky laugh. ‘Yes, for

being so annoyingly calm.’

‘It’s all a lie.’

‘And for being a good friend.’

‘Ha!’

‘And for having your head on straight

about guys and relationships and –’

‘I’m sorry. Have you met me?’

Annabeth punched her arm, but there was

no force to it. ‘I’m stupid, sitting here talking

about my feelings when we have a quest to

finish.’

372/982

‘The chained god’s heartbeat can wait.’

Piper tried for a smile, but her own fears

welled up inside her – for Jason and her

friends on the Argo II, for herself, if she wasn’t able to do what Aphrodite had advised. In the end, you will only have the

power for one word. It must be the right

word, or you will lose everything.

‘Whatever happens,’ she told Annabeth,

‘I’m your friend. Just … remember that,

okay?’

Especially if I’m not around to remind you,

Piper thought.

Annabeth started to say something. Sud-

denly a roaring sound came from the ruins.

One of the stone-lined pits, which Piper had

mistaken for wells, spewed out a three-storey

geyser of flames and shut off just as quickly.

‘What the heck?’ Piper asked.

Annabeth sighed. ‘I don’t know, but I have

a feeling it’s something we should check out.’

373/982

Three pits lay side by side like finger holes on

a recorder. Each one was perfectly round,

two feet in diameter, tiled around the rim

with limestone; each one plunged straight

into darkness. Every few seconds, seemingly

at random, one of the three pits shot a

column of fire into the sky. Each time, the

colour and intensity of the flames were

different.

‘They weren’t doing this before.’ Annabeth

walked a wide arc around the pits. She still

looked shaky and pale, but her mind was

now obviously engaged in the problem at

hand. ‘There doesn’t seem to be any pattern.

The timing, the colour, the height of the fire

… I don’t get it.’

‘Did we activate them somehow?’ Piper

wondered. ‘Maybe that surge of fear you felt

on the hill … Uh, I mean we both felt.’

374/982

Annabeth didn’t seem to hear her. ‘There

must be some kind of mechanism … a pres-

sure plate, a proximity alarm.’

Flames shot from the middle pit. Anna-

beth counted silently. The next time, a geyser

erupted on the left. She frowned. ‘That’s not

right. It’s inconsistent. It has to follow some

kind of logic.’

Piper’s ears started to ring. Something

about these pits …

Each time one ignited, a horrible thrill

went through her – fear, panic, but also a

strong desire to get closer to the flames.

‘It isn’t rational,’ she said. ‘It’s emotional.’

‘How can fire pits be emotional?’

Piper held her hand over the pit on the

right. Instantly, flames leaped up. Piper

barely had time to withdraw her fingers. Her

nails steamed.

‘Piper!’ Annabeth ran over. ‘What were

you thinking?’

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‘I wasn’t. I was feeling. What we want is

down there. These pits are the way in. I’ll

have to jump.’

‘Are you crazy? Even if you don’t get stuck in the tube, you have no idea how deep it is.’

‘You’re right.’

‘You’ll be burned alive!’

‘Possibly.’ Piper unbuckled her sword and

tossed it into the pit on the right. ‘I’ll let you

know if it’s safe. Wait for my word.’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Annabeth warned.

Piper jumped.

For a moment she was weightless in the

dark, the sides of the hot stone pit burning

her arms. Then the space opened up around

her. Instinctively she tucked and rolled, ab-

sorbing most of the impact as she hit the

stone floor.

Flames shot up in front of her, singeing

her eyebrows, but Piper snatched up her

sword, unsheathed it and swung before she’d

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even stopped rolling. A bronze dragonhead,

neatly decapitated, wobbled across the floor.

Piper stood, trying to get her bearings. She

looked down at the fallen dragonhead and

felt a moment of guilt, as if she’d killed Fes-

tus. But this wasn’t Festus.

Three bronze dragon statues stood in a

row, aligned with the holes in the roof. Piper

had decapitated the middle one. The two in-

tact dragons were each three feet tall, their

snouts pointed upward and their steaming

mouths open. They were clearly the source of

the flames, but they didn’t seem to be auto-

matons. They didn’t move or try to attack

her. Piper calmly sliced off the heads of the

other two.

She waited. No more flames shot upward.

‘Piper?’ Annabeth’s voice echoed from far

above like she was yelling down a chimney.

‘Yeah!’ Piper shouted.

‘Thank the gods! You okay?’

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‘Yeah. Hold on a sec.’

Her eyesight adjusted to the dark. She

scanned the chamber. The only light came

from her glowing blade and the openings

above. The ceiling was about thirty feet high.

By all rights, Piper should’ve broken both

legs in the fall, but she wasn’t going to

complain.

The chamber itself was round, about the

size of a helicopter pad. The walls were made

of rough-hewn stone blocks chiselled with

Greek inscriptions – thousands and thou-

sands of them, like graffiti.

At the far end of the room, on a stone dais,

stood the human-sized bronze statue of a

warrior – the god Ares, Piper guessed – with

heavy bronze chains wrapped around his

body, anchoring him to the floor.

On either side of the statue loomed two

dark doorways, ten feet high, with a grue-

some stone face carved over each archway.

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The faces reminded Piper of gorgons, except

they had lions’ manes instead of snakes for

hair.

Piper suddenly felt very much alone.

‘Annabeth!’ she called. ‘It’s a long drop,

but it’s safe to come down. Maybe … uh, you

have a rope you could fasten so we can get

back up?’

‘On it!’

A few minutes later a rope dropped from

the centre pit. Annabeth shinned down.

‘Piper McLean,’ she grumbled, ‘that was

without a doubt the dumbest risk I’ve ever seen anyone take, and I date a dumb risk-taker.’

‘Thank you.’ Piper nudged the nearest

decapitated dragon-head with her foot. ‘I’m

guessing these are the dragons of Ares.

That’s one of his sacred animals, right?’

‘And there’s the chained god himself.

Where do you think those doorways –’

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Piper held up her hand. ‘Do you hear that?’

The sound was like a drumbeat … with a

metallic echo.

‘It’s coming from inside the statue,’ Piper

decided. ‘The heartbeat of the chained god.’

Annabeth unsheathed her drakon-bone

sword. In the dim light, her face was ghostly

pale, her eyes colourless. ‘I – I don’t like this,

Piper. We need to leave.’

The rational part of Piper agreed. Her skin

crawled. Her legs ached to run. But

something about this room felt strangely

familiar …

‘The shrine is ramping up our emotions,’

she said. ‘It’s like being around my mom, ex-

cept this place radiates fear, not love. That’s

why you started feeling overwhelmed on the

hill. Down here, it’s a thousand times

stronger.’

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Annabeth scanned the walls. ‘Okay … we

need a plan to get the statue out. Maybe haul

it up with the rope, but –’

‘Wait.’ Piper glanced at the snarling stone

faces above the doorways. ‘A shrine that ra-

diates fear. Ares had two divine sons, didn’t

he?’

‘Ph-phobos and Deimos.’ Annabeth shivered. ‘Panic and Fear. Percy met them

once in Staten Island.’

Piper decided not to ask what the twin

gods of panic and fear had been doing in

Staten Island. ‘I think those are their faces

above the doors. This place isn’t just a shrine

to Ares. It’s a temple of fear.’

Deep laughter echoed through the

chamber.

On Piper’s right, a giant appeared. He

didn’t come through either doorway. He

simply emerged from the darkness as if he’d

been camouflaged against the wall.

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He was small for a giant – perhaps twenty-

five feet tall, which would give him enough

room to swing the massive sledgehammer in

his hands. His armour, his skin and his

dragon-scale legs were all the colour of char-

coal. Copper wires and smashed circuit

boards glittered in the braids of his oil-black

hair.

‘Very good, child of Aphrodite.’ The giant

smiled. ‘This is indeed the Temple of Fear.

And I am here to make you believers.’

X X

Piper

PIPER KNEW FEAR, BUT THIS WAS DIFFERENT.

Waves of terror crashed over her. Her

joints turned to jelly. Her heart refused to

beat.

Her worst memories crowded her mind –

her father tied up and beaten on Mount Di-

ablo; Percy and Jason fighting to the death in

Kansas; the three of them drowning in the

nymphaeum in Rome; herself standing alone

against Khione and the Boreads. Worst of all,

she relived her conversation with her mother

about what was to come.

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Paralysed, she watched as the giant raised

his sledgehammer to smash them flat. At the

last moment, she leaped to one side, tackling

Annabeth.

The hammer cracked the floor, peppering

Piper’s back with stone shrapnel.

The giant chuckled. ‘Oh, that wasn’t fair!’

He hefted his sledgehammer again.

‘Annabeth, get up!’ Piper helped her to her

feet. She pulled her towards the far end of

the room, but Annabeth moved sluggishly,

her eyes wide and unfocused.

Piper understood why. The temple was

amplifying their personal fears. Piper had

seen some horrible things, but it was nothing

compared to what Annabeth had experi-

enced. If she was having flashbacks of Tar-

tarus, enhanced and compounded with all

her other bad memories, her mind wouldn’t

be able to cope. She might literally go insane.

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‘I’m here,’ Piper promised, filling her voice

with reassurance. ‘We will get out of this.’

The giant laughed. ‘A child of Aphrodite

leading a child of Athena! Now I’ve seen

everything. How would you defeat me, girl?

With makeup and fashion tips?’

A few months ago that comment might’ve

stung, but Piper was way past that. The giant

lumbered towards them. Fortunately, he was

slow and carrying a heavy hammer.

‘Annabeth, trust me,’ Piper said.

‘A – a plan,’ she stammered. ‘I go left. You

go right. If we –’

‘Annabeth, no plans.’

‘W-what?’

‘ No plans. Just follow me!’

The giant swung his hammer, but they

dodged it easily. Piper leaped forward and

slashed her sword across the back of the gi-

ant’s knee. As the giant bellowed in outrage,

Piper pulled Annabeth into the nearest

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tunnel. Immediately they were engulfed in

total darkness.

‘Fools!’ the giant roared somewhere be-

hind them. ‘That is the wrong way!’

‘Keep moving.’ Piper held tight to Anna-

beth’s hand. ‘It’s fine. Come on.’

She couldn’t see anything. Even the glow

of her sword was snuffed out. She barrelled

ahead anyway, trusting her emotions. From

the echo of their footfalls, the space around

them must have been a vast cavern, but she

couldn’t be sure. She simply went in the dir-

ection that made her fear the sharpest.

‘Piper, it’s like the House of Night,’ Anna-

beth said. ‘We should close our eyes.’

‘No!’ Piper said. ‘Keep them open. We

can’t try to hide.’

The giant’s voice came from somewhere in

front of them. ‘Lost forever. Swallowed by

the darkness.’

Annabeth froze, forcing Piper to stop, too.

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‘Why did we just plunge in?’ Annabeth de-

manded. ‘We’re lost. We did what he wanted

us to! We should have bided our time, talked

to the enemy, figured out a plan. That al-

ways works!’

‘Annabeth, I never ignore your advice.’

Piper kept her voice soothing. ‘But this time I

have to. We can’t defeat this place with reas-

on. You can’t think your way out of your

emotions.’

The giant’s laughter echoed like a detonat-

ing depth charge. ‘Despair, Annabeth Chase!

I am Mimas, born to slay Hephaestus. I am

the breaker of plans, the destroyer of the

well-oiled machines. Nothing goes right in

my presence. Maps are misread. Devices

break. Data is lost. The finest minds turn to

mush!’

‘I – I’ve faced worse than you!’ Annabeth

cried.

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‘Oh, I see!’ The giant sounded much closer

now. ‘Are you not afraid?’

‘Never!’

‘Of course we’re afraid,’ Piper corrected.

‘Terrified!’

The air moved. Just in time, Piper pushed

Annabeth to one side.

CRASH!

Suddenly they were back in the circular

room, the dim light almost blinding now.

The giant stood close by, trying to yank his

hammer out of the floor where he’d embed-

ded it. Piper lunged and drove her blade into

the giant’s thigh.

‘AROOO!’ Mimas let go of the hammer

and arched his back.

Piper and Annabeth scrambled behind the

chained statue of Ares, which still pulsed

with a metallic heartbeat: thump, thump,

thump.

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The giant Mimas turned towards them.

The wound on his leg was already closing.

‘You cannot defeat me,’ he growled. ‘In the

last war, it took two gods to bring me down.

I was born to kill Hephaestus, and would

have done so if Ares hadn’t ganged up on me

as well! You should have stayed paralysed in

your fear. Your death would’ve been quicker.’

Days ago, when she faced Khione on the

Argo II, Piper had started talking without

thinking, following her heart no matter what

her brain said. Now she did the same thing.

She moved in front of the statue and faced

the giant, though the rational part of her

screamed, RUN, YOU IDIOT!

‘This temple,’ she said. ‘The Spartans

didn’t chain Ares because they wanted his

spirit to stay in their city.’

‘You think not?’ The giant’s eyes glittered

with amusement. He wrapped his hands

390/982

around his sledgehammer and pulled it from

the floor.

‘This is the temple of my brothers, Deimos

and Phobos.’ Piper’s voice shook, but she

didn’t try to hide it. ‘The Spartans came here

to prepare for battle, to face their fears. Ares

was chained to remind them that war has

consequences. His power – the spirits of

battle, the makhai – should never be un-

leashed unless you understand how terrible

they are, unless you’ve felt fear.’

Mimas laughed. ‘A child of the love god-

dess lectures me about war. What do you

know of the makhai?’

‘We’ll see.’ Piper ran straight at the giant,

unbalancing his stance. At the sight of her

jagged blade coming at him, his eyes

widened and he stumbled backwards, crack-

ing his head against the wall. A jagged fissure

snaked upward in the stones. Dust rained

from the ceiling.

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‘Piper, this place is unstable!’ Annabeth

warned. ‘If we don’t leave –’

‘Don’t think about escape!’ Piper ran to-

wards their rope, which dangled from the

ceiling. She leaped as high as she could and

cut it.

‘Piper, have you lost your mind?’

Probably, she thought. But Piper knew

this was the only way to survive. She had to

go against reason, follow emotion instead,

keep the giant off balance.

‘That hurt!’ Mimas rubbed his head. ‘You

realize you cannot kill me without the help of a god and Ares is not here! The next time I

face that blustering idiot, I will smash him to

bits. I wouldn’t have had to fight him in the

first place if that cowardly fool Damasen had done his job –’

Annabeth let loose a guttural cry. ‘Do not

insult Damasen!’

392/982

She ran at Mimas, who barely managed to

parry her drakon-blade with the handle of

his hammer. He tried to grab Annabeth, and

Piper lunged, slashing her blade across the

side of the giant’s face.

‘GAHHH!’ Mimas staggered.

A severed pile of dreadlocks fell to the

floor along with something else – a large

fleshy thing lying in a pool of golden ichor.

‘My ear!’ Mimas wailed. Before he could

recover his wits, Piper grabbed Annabeth’s

arm and together they plunged through the

second doorway.

‘I will bring down this chamber!’ the giant

thundered. ‘The Earth Mother shall deliver

me, but you shall be crushed!’

The floor shook. The sound of breaking

stone echoed all around them.

‘Piper, stop,’ Annabeth begged. ‘How –

how are you dealing with this? The fear, the

anger –’

393/982

‘Don’t try to control it. That’s what the

temple is about. You have to accept the fear,

adapt to it, ride it like the rapids on a river.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I don’t know it. I just feel it.’

Somewhere nearby, a wall crumbled with a

sound like an artillery blast.

‘You cut the rope,’ Annabeth said. ‘We’re

going to die down here!’

Piper cupped her friend’s face. She pulled

Annabeth forward until their foreheads

touched. Through her fingertips, she could

feel Annabeth’s rapid pulse. ‘Fear can’t be

reasoned with. Neither can hate. They’re like

love. They’re almost identical emotions.

That’s why Ares and Aphrodite like each oth-

er. Their twin sons – Fear and Panic – were

spawned from both war and love.’

‘But I don’t … this doesn’t make sense.’

‘No,’ Piper agreed. ‘Stop thinking about it.

Just feel. ’

394/982

‘I hate that.’

‘I know. You can’t plan for feelings. Like

with Percy, and your future – you can’t con-

trol every contingency. You have to accept

that. Let it scare you. Trust that it’ll be okay anyway.’

Annabeth shook her head. ‘I don’t know if

I can.’

‘Then for right now concentrate on re-

venge for Damasen. Revenge for Bob.’

A moment of silence. ‘I’m good now.’

‘Great, because I need your help. We’re go-

ing to run out there together.’

‘Then what?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Gods, I hate it when you lead.’

Piper laughed, which surprised even her.

Fear and love really were related. At that moment she clung to the love she had for her

friend. ‘Come on!’

395/982

They ran in no particular direction and

found themselves back in the shrine room,

right behind the giant Mimas. They each

slashed one of his legs and brought him to

his knees.

The giant howled. More chunks of stone

tumbled from the ceiling.

‘Weak mortals!’ Mimas struggled to stand.

‘No plan of yours can defeat me!’

‘That’s good,’ Piper said. ‘Because I don’t

have a plan.’

She ran towards the statue of Ares. ‘Anna-

beth, keep our friend occupied!’

‘Oh, he’s occupied!’

‘GAHHHHH!’

Piper stared at the cruel bronze face of the

war god. The statue thrummed with a low

metallic pulse.

The spirits of battle, she thought. They’re

inside, waiting to be freed.

396/982

But they weren’t hers to unleash – not un-

till she’d proven herself.

The chamber shook again. More cracks ap-

peared in the walls. Piper glanced at the

stone carvings above the doorways: the

scowling twin faces of Fear and Panic.

‘My brothers,’ Piper said, ‘sons of Aphrod-

ite … I give you a sacrifice.’

At the feet of Ares, she set her cornucopia.

The magic horn had become so attuned to

her emotions it could amplify her anger, love

or grief and spew forth its bounty accord-

ingly. She hoped that would appeal to the

gods of fear. Or maybe they would just ap-

preciate some fresh fruits and vegetables in

their diets.

‘I’m terrified,’ she confessed. ‘I hate doing

this. But I accept that it’s necessary.’

She swung her blade and took off the

bronze statue’s head.

‘No!’ Mimas yelled.

397/982

Flames roared up from the statue’s

severed neck. They swirled around Piper,

filling the room with a firestorm of emotions:

hatred, bloodlust and fear, but also love –

because no one could face battle without

caring for something: comrades, family,

home.

Piper held out her arms and the makhai

made her the centre of their whirlwind.

We will answer your call, they whispered

in her mind. Once only, when you need us,

destruction, waste, carnage shall answer.

We shall complete your cure.

The flames vanished along with the cornu-

copia, and the chained statue of Ares

crumbled into dust.

‘Foolish girl!’ Mimas charged her, Anna-

beth at his heels. ‘The makhai have aban-

doned you!’

‘Or maybe they’ve abandoned you,’ Piper

said.

398/982

Mimas raised his hammer, but he’d forgot-

ten about Annabeth. She jabbed him in the

thigh and the giant staggered forward, off

balance. Piper stepped in calmly and stabbed

him in the gut.

Mimas crashed face-first into the nearest

doorway. He turned over just as the stone

face of Panic cracked off the wall above him

and toppled down for a one-ton kiss.

The giant’s cry was cut short. His body

went still. Then he disintegrated into a

twenty-foot pile of ash.

Annabeth stared at Piper. ‘What just

happened?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘Piper, you were amazing, but those fiery

spirits you released –’

‘The makhai.’

‘How does that help us find the cure we’re

looking for?’

399/982

‘I don’t know. They said I could summon

them when the time comes. Maybe Artemis

and Apollo can explain –’

A section of the wall calved like a glacier.

Annabeth stumbled and almost slipped on

the giant’s severed ear. ‘We need to get out of

here.’

‘I’m working on it,’ Piper said.

‘And, uh, I think this ear is your spoil of

war.’

‘Gross.’

‘Would make a lovely shield.’

‘Shut up, Chase.’ Piper stared at the

second doorway, which still had the face of

Fear above it. ‘Thank you, brothers, for help-

ing to kill the giant. I need one more favour –

an escape. And, believe me, I am properly

terrified. I offer you this, uh, lovely ear as a

sacrifice.’

400/982

The stone face made no answer. Another

section of the wall peeled away. A starburst

of cracks appeared in the ceiling.

Piper grabbed Annabeth’s hand. ‘We’re go-

ing through that doorway. If this works, we

might find ourselves back on the surface.’

‘And if it doesn’t?’

Piper looked up at the face of Fear. ‘Let’s

find out.’

The room collapsed around them as they

plunged into the dark.

X X I

Reyna

AT LEAST THEY DIDN’T END UP ON ANOTHER

CRUISE SHIP.

The jump from Portugal had landed them

in the middle of the Atlantic, where Reyna

had spent her whole day on the lido deck of

the Azores Queen, shooing little kids off the Athena Parthenos, which they seemed to

think was a waterslide.

Unfortunately, the next jump brought

Reyna home.

They appeared ten feet in the air, hovering

over a restaurant courtyard that Reyna re-

cognized. She and Nico dropped onto a large

403/982

birdcage, which promptly broke, dumping

them into a cluster of potted ferns along with

three very alarmed parrots. Coach Hedge hit

the canopy over a bar. The Athena Parthenos

landed on her feet with a THUMP, flattening a patio table and flipping a dark green umbrella, which settled onto the Nike statue in

Athena’s hand, so the goddess of wisdom

looked like she was holding a tropical drink.

‘Gah!’ Coach Hedge yelled. The canopy

ripped and he fell behind the bar with a

crash of bottles and glasses. The satyr re-

covered well. He popped up with a dozen

miniature plastic swords in his hair, grabbed

the soda gun and served himself a drink.

‘I like it!’ He tossed a wedge of pineapple

into his mouth. ‘But next time, kid, can we

land on the floor and not ten feet above it?’

Nico dragged himself out of the ferns. He

collapsed into the nearest chair and waved

off a blue parrot that was trying to land on

404/982

his head. After the fight with Lycaon, Nico

had discarded his shredded aviator jacket.

His black skull-pattern T-shirt wasn’t in

much better shape. Reyna had stitched up

the gashes on his biceps, which gave Nico a

slightly creepy Frankenstein look, but the

cuts were still swollen and red. Unlike bites,

werewolf claw marks wouldn’t transmit lyc-

anthropy, but Reyna knew firsthand that

they healed slowly and burned like acid.

‘I’ve gotta sleep.’ Nico looked up in a daze.

‘Are we safe?’

Reyna scanned the courtyard. The place

seemed deserted, though she didn’t under-

stand why. This time of night, it should’ve

been packed. Above them, the evening sky

glowed a murky terracotta, the same colour

as the building’s walls. Ringing the atrium,

the second-storey balconies were empty ex-

cept for potted azaleas hanging from the

white metal railings. Behind a wall of glass

405/982

doors, the restaurant’s interior was dark. The

only sound was the fountain gurgling for-

lornly and the occasional squawk of a dis-

gruntled parrot.

‘This is Barrachina,’ Reyna said.

‘What kind of bear?’ Hedge opened a jar of

maraschino cherries and chugged them

down.

‘It’s a famous restaurant,’ Reyna said, ‘in

the middle of Old San Juan. They invented

the piña colada here, back in the 1960s, I

think.’

Nico pitched out of his chair, curled up on

the floor and started snoring.

Coach Hedge belched. ‘Well, it looks like

we’re staying for a while. If they haven’t in-

vented any new drinks since the sixties,

they’re overdue. I’ll get to work!’

While Hedge rummaged behind the bar,

Reyna whistled for Aurum and Argentum.

After their fight with the werewolves, the

406/982

dogs looked a little worse for wear, but

Reyna placed them on guard duty. She

checked the street entrance to the atrium.

The decorative ironwork gates were locked.

A sign in Spanish and English announced

that the restaurant was closed for a private

party. That seemed odd, since the place was

deserted. At the bottom of the sign were em-

bossed initials: HTK. These bothered Reyna,

though she wasn’t sure why.

She peered through the gates. Calle

Fortaleza was unusually quiet. The blue

cobblestone pavement was free of traffic and

pedestrians. The pastel-coloured shop fronts

were closed and dark. Was it Sunday? Or

some sort of holiday? Reyna’s unease grew.

Behind her, Coach Hedge whistled happily

as he set up a row of blenders. The parrots

roosted on the shoulders of the Athena

Parthenos. Reyna wondered whether the

407/982

Greeks would be offended if their sacred

statue arrived covered in tropical bird poop.

Of all the places Reyna could have ended

up … San Juan.

Maybe it was a coincidence, but she feared

not. Puerto Rico wasn’t really on the way

from Europe to New York. It was much too

far south.

Besides, Reyna had been lending Nico her

strength for days now. Perhaps she’d influ-

enced him subconsciously. He was drawn to

painful thoughts, fear, darkness. And

Reyna’s darkest, most painful memory was

San Juan. Her biggest fear? Coming back

here.

Her dogs picked up on her agitation. They

prowled the courtyard, snarling at shadows.

Poor Argentum turned in circles, trying to

aim his sideways head so he could see out of

his one ruby eye.

408/982

Reyna tried to concentrate on positive

memories. She’d missed the sound of the

little coquí frogs, singing around the neigh-bourhood like a chorus of popping bottle

caps. She’d missed the smell of the ocean,

the blossoming magnolias and citrus trees,

the fresh-baked bread from the local

panadería s. Even the humidity felt comfortable and familiar – like the scented air from

a dryer vent.

Part of her wanted to open the gates and

explore the city. She wanted to visit the Plaza

de Armas, where the old men played domin-

os and the coffee kiosk sold espresso so strong it made your ears pop. She wanted to

stroll down her old street, Calle San Jose,

counting and naming the stray cats, making

up a story for each one, the way she used to

do with her sister. She wanted to break into

Barrachina’s kitchen and cook up some real

mofongo with fried plantains and bacon and 409/982

garlic – a taste that would always remind her

of Sunday afternoons, when she and Hylla

could briefly escape the house and, if they

were lucky, eat here in the kitchen, where the

staff knew them and took pity on them.

On the other hand, Reyna wanted to leave

immediately. She wanted to wake up Nico,

no matter how tired he was, and force him to

shadow-travel out of here – anywhere but

San Juan.

Being so close to her old house made

Reyna feel ratcheted tight like a catapult

winch.

She glanced at Nico. Despite the warm

night, he shivered on the tile floor. She

pulled a blanket out of her pack and covered

him up.

Reyna no longer felt self-conscious about

wanting to protect him. For better or worse,

they shared a connection now. Each time

they shadow-travelled, his exhaustion and

410/982

torment washed over her and she under-

stood him a little better.

Nico was devastatingly alone. He’d lost his

big sister Bianca. He’d pushed away all other

demigods who’d tried to get close to him. His

experiences at Camp Half-Blood, in the

Labyrinth and in Tartarus had left him

scarred, afraid to trust anyone.

Reyna doubted she could change his feel-

ings, but she wanted Nico to have support.

All heroes deserved that. It was the whole

point of the Twelfth Legion. You joined

forces to fight for a higher cause. You weren’t

alone. You made friends and earned respect.

Even when you mustered out, you had a

place in the community. No demigod should

have to suffer alone the way Nico did.

Tonight was 25 July. Seven more days un-

till 1 August. In theory, that was plenty of

time to reach Long Island. Once they com-

pleted their mission, if they completed their 411/982

mission, Reyna would make sure Nico was

recognized for his bravery.

She slipped off her backpack. She tried to

place it under Nico’s head as a makeshift pil-

low, but her fingers passed right through him

as if he were a shadow. She recoiled her

hand.

Cold with dread, she tried again. This

time, she was able to lift his neck and slide

the pillow under. His skin felt cool, but oth-

erwise normal.

Had she been hallucinating?

Nico had expended so much energy travel-

ling through shadows … perhaps he was

starting to fade permanently. If he kept

pushing himself to the limit for seven more

days …

The sound of a blender startled her out of

her thoughts.

‘You want a smoothie?’ asked the coach.

‘This one is pineapple, mango, orange and

412/982

banana, buried under a mound of shaved

coconut. I call it the Hercules!’

‘I – I’m all right, thanks.’ She glanced up at

the balconies ringing the atrium. It still

didn’t seem right to her that the restaurant

was empty. A private party. HTK. ‘Coach, I

think I’ll scout the second floor. I don’t like

–’

A wisp of movement caught her eye. The

balcony on the right – a dark shape. Above

that, at the edge of the roof, several more sil-

houettes appeared against the orange clouds.

Reyna drew her sword, but it was too late.

A flash of silver, a faint whoosh, and the

point of a needle buried itself in her neck.

Her vision blurred. Her limbs turned to spa-

ghetti. She collapsed next to Nico.

As her eyes dimmed, she saw her dogs

running towards her, but they froze in mid-

bark and toppled over.

At the bar, the coach yelled, ‘Hey!’

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Another whoosh. The coach collapsed with

a silver dart in his neck.

Reyna tried to say, Nico, wake up. Her

voice wouldn’t work. Her body had been de-

activated as completely as her metal dogs

had.

Dark figures lined the rooftop. Half a

dozen leaped into the courtyard, silent and

graceful.

One leaned over Reyna. She could only

make out a hazy smudge of grey.

A muffled voice said, ‘Take her.’

A cloth sack was wrestled over her head.

Reyna wondered dimly if this was how she

would die – without even a fight.

Then it didn’t matter. Several pairs of

rough hands lifted her like an unwieldy piece

of furniture and she drifted into

unconsciousness.

X X I I

Reyna

THE ANSWER CAME TO HER before she was

fully conscious.

The initials on the sign at Barrachina: HTK.

‘Not funny,’ Reyna muttered to herself.

‘Not remotely funny.’

Years ago, Lupa had taught her how to

sleep lightly, wake up alert and be ready to

attack. Now, as her senses returned, she took

stock of her situation.

The cloth sack still covered her head, but it

didn’t seem to be cinched around her neck.

She was tied to a hard chair – wood, by the

feel of it. Cords were tight against the ribs.

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Her hands were bound behind her, but her

legs were free at the ankles.

Either her captors were sloppy, or they

hadn’t expected her to wake up so quickly.

Reyna wriggled her fingers and toes.

Whatever tranquilizer they’d used, the ef-

fects had worn off.

Somewhere in front of her, footsteps

echoed down a corridor. The sound got

closer. Reyna let her muscles go slack. She

rested her chin against her chest.

A lock clicked. A door creaked open.

Judging from the acoustics, Reyna was in a

small room with brick or concrete walls:

maybe a basement or a cell. One person

entered the room.

Reyna calculated the distance. No more

than five feet.

She surged upward, spinning so the chair

legs smashed against her captor’s body. The

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force broke the chair. Her captor fell with a

pained grunt.

Shouts from the corridor. More footsteps.

Reyna shook the cloth sack off her head.

She dropped into a backward roll, pulling

her bound hands under her legs so her arms

were in front of her. Her captor – a teen girl

in grey camouflage – lay dazed on the floor, a

knife at her belt.

Reyna grabbed the knife and straddled

her, pressing the blade against her captor’s

throat.

Three more girls crowded the doorway.

Two drew knives. The third nocked an arrow

in her bow.

For a moment, everyone froze.

Her hostage’s carotid artery pulsed under

the blade. Wisely, the girl made no attempt

to move.

Reyna ran scenarios on how she could

overcome the three in the doorway. All of

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them wore grey camouflage T-shirts, faded

black jeans, black athletic shoes and utility

belts as if they were going camping or hiking

… or hunting.

‘You’re the Hunters of Artemis,’ Reyna

realized.

‘Take it easy,’ said the girl with the bow.

Her ginger hair was shaved on the sides, long

on top. She had the build of a professional

wrestler. ‘You’ve got the wrong impression.’

The girl on the floor exhaled, but Reyna

knew that trick – trying to loosen an enemy’s

hold. Reyna pressed the knife tighter against

the girl’s throat.

‘ You’ve got the wrong impression,’ Reyna

said, ‘if you think you can attack me and take

me captive. Where are my friends?’

‘Unharmed, right where you left them,’ the

ginger girl promised. ‘Look, it’s three to one

and your hands are tied.’

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‘You’re right,’ Reyna growled. ‘Get another

six of you in here and it might be a fair fight.

I demand to see your lieutenant, Thalia

Grace.’

The ginger girl blinked. Her comrades

gripped their knives uneasily.

On the floor, Reyna’s hostage began to

shake. Reyna thought she might be having a

fit. Then she realized the girl was laughing.

‘Something funny?’ Reyna asked.

The girl’s voice was a gravelly whisper.

‘Jason told me you were good. He didn’t say

how good.’

Reyna focused more carefully on her host-

age. The girl looked about sixteen, with

choppy black hair and startling blue eyes.

Across her forehead glinted a circlet of silver.

‘ You’re Thalia?’

‘And I’d be happy to explain,’ Thalia said,

‘if you’d kindly not cut my throat.’

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The Hunters guided her through a maze of

corridors. The walls were concrete blocks

painted army green, devoid of windows. The

only light came from dim fluorescents

spaced every twenty feet. The passages twis-

ted, turned and doubled back, but the

ginger-haired Hunter, Phoebe, took the lead.

She seemed to know where she was going.

Thalia Grace limped along, holding her

ribs where Reyna had hit her with the chair.

The Hunter must’ve been in pain, but her

eyes sparkled with amusement.

‘Again, my apologies for abducting you.’

Thalia didn’t sound very sorry. ‘This lair is

secret. The Amazons have certain protocols

–’

‘The Amazons. You work for them?’

‘ With them,’ Thalia corrected. ‘We have a

mutual understanding. Sometimes the

Amazons send recruits our way. Sometimes,

if we come across girls who don’t wish to be

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maidens forever, we send them to the

Amazons. The Amazons do not have such

vows.’

One of the other Hunters snorted in dis-

gust. ‘Keeping male slaves in collars and or-

ange jumpsuits. I’d rather keep a pack of

dogs any day.’

‘Their males aren’t slaves, Celyn,’ Thalia

chided. ‘Merely subservient.’ She glanced at

Reyna. ‘The Amazons and Hunters don’t see

eye to eye on everything, but since Gaia

began to stir we have been cooperating

closely. With Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-

Blood at each other’s throats, well …

someone has to deal with all the monsters.

Our forces are spread across the entire

continent.’

Reyna massaged the rope marks on her

wrists. ‘I thought you told Jason you knew

nothing of Camp Jupiter.’

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‘That was true then. But those days are

over, thanks to Hera’s scheming.’ Thalia’s ex-

pression turned serious. ‘How is my

brother?’

‘When I left him in Epirus, he was fine.’

Reyna told her what she knew.

She found Thalia’s eyes distracting: elec-

tric blue, intense and alert, so much like

Jason’s. Otherwise the siblings looked noth-

ing alike. Thalia’s hair was choppy and dark.

Her jeans were tattered, held together with

safety pins. She wore metal chains around

her neck and wrists, and her grey camo shirt

sported a badge that read PUNK IS NOT DEAD.

YOU ARE.

Reyna had always thought of Jason Grace

as the all-American boy. Thalia looked more

like the girl who robbed all-American boys at

knifepoint in an alley.

‘I hope he’s still well,’ Thalia mused. ‘A few

nights ago I dreamed about our mother. It …

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wasn’t pleasant. Then I got Nico’s message in

my dreams – about Orion hunting you. That

was even less pleasant.’

‘That’s why you’re here. You got Nico’s

message.’

‘Well, we didn’t rush to Puerto Rico for a

vacation. This is one of the Amazons’ most

secure strongholds. We took a gamble that

we’d be able to intercept you.’

‘Intercept us … how? And why?’

In front of them, Phoebe stopped. The

corridor dead-ended at a set of metal doors.

Phoebe tapped on them with the butt of her

knife – a complicated series of knocks like

Morse code.

Thalia rubbed her bruised ribs. ‘I’ll have to

leave you here. The Hunters are patrolling

the old city, keeping a lookout for Orion. I

need to get back to the front lines.’ She held

out her hand expectantly. ‘My knife, please?’

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Reyna handed it back. ‘What about my

own weapons?’

‘They’ll be returned when you leave. I

know it seems silly – the kidnapping and

blindfolding and whatnot – but the Amazons

take their security seriously. Last month they

had an incident at their main centre in

Seattle. Maybe you heard about it. A girl

named Hazel Levesque stole a horse.’

The Hunter Celyn grinned. ‘Naomi and I

saw the security footage. Legendary.’

‘Epic,’ agreed the third Hunter.

‘At any rate,’ Thalia said, ‘we’re keeping an

eye on Nico and the satyr. Unauthorized

males aren’t allowed anywhere near this

place, but we left them a note so they

wouldn’t worry.’

From her belt, Thalia unfolded a piece of

paper. She handed it to Reyna. It was a pho-

tocopy of a handwritten note:

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IOU one Roman praetor.

She will be returned safely.

Sit tight.

Otherwise you’ll be killed.

XOX, the Hunters of Artemis

Reyna handed back the letter. ‘Right. That

won’t worry them at all.’

Phoebe grinned. ‘It’s cool. I covered your

Athena Parthenos with this new camouflage

netting I designed. It should keep monsters

– even Orion – from finding it. Besides, if my

guess is right, Orion isn’t tracking the statue

as much as he’s tracking you.’

Reyna felt like she’d been punched

between the eyes. ‘How could you know

that?’

‘Phoebe is my best tracker,’ Thalia said.

‘And my best healer. And … well, she’s gener-

ally right about most things.’

‘ Most things?’ Phoebe protested.

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Thalia raised her hands in an I give up

gesture. ‘As for why we intercepted you, I’ll

let the Amazons explain. Phoebe, Celyn,

Naomi – accompany Reyna inside. I have to

see to our defences.’

‘You’re expecting a fight,’ Reyna noted.

‘But you said this place was secret and

secure.’

Thalia sheathed her knife. ‘You don’t know

Orion. I wish we had more time, Praetor. I’d

like to hear about your camp and how you

ended up there. You remind me so much of

your sister, and yet –’

‘You know Hylla?’ Reyna asked. ‘Is she

safe?’

Thalia tilted her head. ‘None of us are safe

these days, Praetor, so I really must go. Good

hunting!’

Thalia disappeared down the corridor.

The metal doors creaked open. The three

Hunters led Reyna through.

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After the claustrophobic tunnels, the size

of the warehouse took Reyna’s breath away.

An aerie of giant eagles could’ve done man-

oeuvres under the vast ceiling. Three-storey-

tall rows of shelves stretched into the dis-

tance. Robotic forklifts zipped through the

aisles retrieving boxes. Half a dozen young

women in black trouser suits stood nearby,

comparing notes on their tablet computers.

In front of them were crates labelled:

EXPLOSIVE ARROWS AND GREEK FIRE (16 OZ. EZ-

OPEN PACK) and GRYPHON FILLETS (FREE-RANGE

ORGANIC).

Directly in front of Reyna, behind a con-

ference table piled high with reports and

bladed weapons, sat a familiar figure.

‘Baby sister.’ Hylla rose. ‘Here we are,

home again. Facing certain death again. We

have to stop meeting like this.’

X X I I I

Reyna

REYNA’S FEELINGS WEREN’T SO MUCH MIXED.

They were thrown into a blender with

gravel and ice.

Every time she saw her sister, she didn’t

know whether to hug her, cry or walk away.

Of course she loved Hylla. Reyna would have

been dead many times over if not for her

sister.

But their past together was beyond

complicated.

Hylla walked around the table. She looked

good in her black leather trousers and black

vest top. Around her waist glittered a cord of

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gold Labyrinthine links – the belt of the

Amazon queen. She was twenty-two now, but

she could’ve been mistaken for Reyna’s twin.

They had the same long dark hair, the same

brown eyes. They even wore the same silver

ring with the torch-and-spear emblem of

their mother, Bellona. The most obvious dif-

ference between them was the long white

scar on Hylla’s forehead. It had faded over

the last four years. Anyone who didn’t know

better might’ve mistaken it for a worry line.

But Reyna remembered the day Hylla got

that scar in a duel on board the pirate ship.

‘Well?’ Hylla prompted. ‘No warm words

for your sister?’

‘Thank you for having me abducted,’

Reyna said. ‘For shooting me with a tranquil-

izer dart, putting a bag over my head and ty-

ing me to a chair.’

Hylla rolled her eyes. ‘Rules are rules. As a

praetor, you should understand that. This

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distribution centre is one of our most im-

portant bases. We have to control access. I

can’t make exceptions, especially not for my

family.’

‘I think you just enjoyed it.’

‘That, too.’

Reyna wondered if her sister was as cool

and collected as she seemed. She found it

amazing, and a little scary, how quickly Hylla

had adapted to her new identity.

Six years ago, she’d been a scared big sis-

ter, doing her best to shield Reyna from their

father’s rage. Her main skills had been run-

ning and finding them places to hide.

Then on Circe’s island Hylla had worked

hard to be noticed. She wore flashy clothes

and makeup. She smiled and laughed and al-

ways stayed perky, as if acting happy would

make her happy. She’d become one of Circe’s favourite attendants.

432/982

After their island sanctuary burned, they

were taken prisoner aboard the pirates’ ship.

Again Hylla changed. She’d duelled for their

freedom, out-pirated the pirates, gained the

crew’s respect so well that Blackbeard finally

put them ashore lest Hylla take over his ship.

Now she’d reinvented herself again as

queen of the Amazons.

Of course, Reyna understood why her sis-

ter was such a chameleon. If she kept chan-

ging, she could never fossilize into the thing

their father had become …

‘Those initials on the reservation sign at

Barrachina,’ Reyna said. ‘HTK. Hylla Twice-

Kill, your new nickname. A little joke?’

‘Just checking to see if you were paying

attention.’

‘You knew we would land in that court-

yard. How?’

Hylla shrugged. ‘Shadow-travel is magic.

Several of my followers are daughters of

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Hecate. It was a simple enough matter for

them to pull you off course, especially since

you and I share a connection.’

Reyna tried to keep her anger in check.

Hylla, of all people, should know how she

would feel about being dragged back to

Puerto Rico.

‘You went to a lot of trouble,’ Reyna noted.

‘The queen of the Amazons and the lieuten-

ant of Artemis both rushing to Puerto Rico

on a moment’s notice to intercept us – I’m

guessing that’s not because you missed me.’

Phoebe the ginger-haired Hunter

chuckled. ‘She’s smart.’

‘Of course,’ Hylla said. ‘I taught her

everything she knows.’

Other Amazons started to gather around,

probably sensing a potential fight. Amazons

loved violent entertainment almost as much

as pirates did.

434/982

‘Orion,’ Reyna guessed. ‘That’s what

brought you here. His name got your

attention.’

‘I couldn’t let him kill you,’ Hylla said.

‘It’s more than that.’

‘Your mission to escort the Athena

Parthenos –’

‘– is important. But it’s more than that,

too. This is personal for you. And for the

Hunters. What’s your game?’

Hylla ran her thumbs along her golden

belt. ‘Orion is a problem. Unlike the other gi-

ants, Orion has been walking the earth for

centuries. He takes a special interest in

killing Amazons, or Hunters, or any female who dares to be strong.’

‘Why would he want that?’

A ripple of dread seemed to pass through

the girls around her.

Hylla looked at Phoebe. ‘Do you want to

explain? You were there.’

435/982

The Hunter’s smile faded. ‘In the ancient

times, Orion joined the Hunters. He was

Lady Artemis’s best friend. He had no rivals

at the bow – except for the goddess herself,

and perhaps her brother, Apollo.’

Reyna shivered. Phoebe looked no older

than fourteen. To think that she knew Orion

three or four thousand years ago …

‘What went wrong?’ she asked.

Phoebe’s ears reddened. ‘Orion crossed the

line. He fell in love with Artemis.’

Hylla sniffed. ‘Always happens with men.

They promise friendship. They promise to

treat you as an equal. In the end, all they

want is to possess you.’

Phoebe picked at her thumbnail. Behind

her, the other two Hunters, Naomi and

Celyn, shifted uneasily.

‘Lady Artemis rebuffed him, of course,’

Phoebe said. ‘Orion became bitter. He star-

ted going on longer and longer trips by

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himself in the wilderness. Finally … I’m not

sure what happened. One day Artemis came

back to camp and told us Orion had been

killed. She refused to speak of it.’

Hylla frowned, which accentuated the

white scar across her brow. ‘Whatever the

case, when Orion rose again from Tartarus,

he was Artemis’s bitterest enemy. No one

can hate you with more intensity than

someone who used to love you.’

Reyna understood that. She thought back

to a conversation she’d had with the goddess

Aphrodite two years ago in Charleston …

‘If he’s such a problem,’ Reyna said, ‘why

doesn’t Artemis simply slay him again?’

Phoebe grimaced. ‘Easier said than done.

Orion is sneaky. Whenever Artemis is with

us, he stays far away. Whenever we Hunters

are on our own, like we are now … he strikes

without warning and disappears again. Our

last lieutenant, Zoë Nightshade, spent

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centuries trying to track him down and kill

him.’

‘The Amazons have also tried,’ Hylla said.

‘Orion doesn’t distinguish between us and

the Hunters. I think we all remind him too much of Artemis. He sabotages our warehouses, disrupts our distribution centres,

kills our warriors –’

‘In other words,’ Reyna said dryly, ‘he’s

getting in the way of your plans for world

domination.’

Hylla shrugged. ‘Exactly.’

‘That’s why you rushed here to intercept

me,’ Reyna said. ‘You knew Orion would be

right behind me. You’re setting up an am-

bush. I’m the bait.’

The other girls all found somewhere else to

look besides Reyna’s face.

‘Oh, please,’ Reyna chided, ‘don’t develop

a guilty conscience now. It’s a good plan.

How do we proceed?’

438/982

Hylla gave her comrades a lopsided smile.

‘I told you my sister was tough. Phoebe, you

want to explain the details?’

The Hunter shouldered her bow. ‘Like I

said, I believe Orion is tracking you, not the Athena Parthenos. He seems especially good

at sensing the presence of female demigods.

I guess you’d say that we’re his natural prey.’

‘Charming,’ Reyna said. ‘So my friends,

Nico and Gleeson Hedge – are they safe?’

‘I still don’t see why you travel with males,’

Phoebe grumbled, ‘but my guess is that they

are safer without you around. I did my best

to camouflage your statue. With luck, Orion

will follow you here, straight into our line of

defences.’

‘And then?’ Reyna asked.

Hylla gave her the sort of cold smile that

used to make Blackbeard’s pirates nervous.

‘Thalia and most of her Hunters are scouting

the perimeter of Viejo San Juan. As soon as

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Orion gets close, we’ll know. We’ve set traps

at every approach. I have my best fighters on

alert. We’ll snare the giant. Then, one way or

another, we’ll send him back to Tartarus.’

‘ Can he be killed?’ Reyna asked. ‘I thought most giants could only be destroyed by a god

and demigod working together.’

‘We intend to find out,’ Hylla said. ‘Once

Orion is taken down, your quest will be much

easier. We’ll send you on your way with our

blessings.’

‘We could use more than your blessings,’

Reyna said. ‘Amazons ship things all around

the world. Why not provide safe transport

for the Athena Parthenos? Get us to Camp

Half-Blood before August first –’

‘I can’t,’ Hylla said. ‘If I could, sister, I

would, but surely you’ve felt the anger radi-

ating from the statue. We Amazons are hon-

orary daughters of Ares. The Athena

Parthenos would never tolerate our

440/982

interference. Besides, you know how the

Fates operate. For your quest to succeed, you

have to deliver the statue personally.’

Reyna must’ve looked crestfallen.

Phoebe shoulder-bumped her like an over-

friendly cat. ‘Hey, not so glum. We’ll help

you as much as we can. The Amazon service

department has repaired those metal dogs of

yours. And we have some cool parting gifts!’

Celyn handed Phoebe a leather satchel.

Phoebe rummaged inside. ‘Let’s see …

healing potions. Tranquilizer darts like the

ones we used on you. Hmm, what else? Oh,

yeah!’ Phoebe triumphantly produced a rect-

angle of folded silvery cloth.

‘A handkerchief?’ Reyna asked.

‘Better. Back up a little.’ Phoebe tossed the

cloth on the floor. Instantly it expanded into

a ten-by-ten camping tent.

‘It’s air-conditioned,’ Phoebe said. ‘Sleeps

four. It has a buffet table and sleeping bags

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inside. Whatever extra gear you put in it will

collapse with the tent. Um, within reason …

don’t try to stick your giant statue in there.’

Celyn snickered. ‘If your male travelling

companions get annoying, you could always

leave them inside.’

Naomi frowned. ‘That wouldn’t work …

would it?’

‘ Anyway,’ Phoebe said, ‘these tents are

great. I have one just like it; use it all the

time. When you’re ready to close it up, the

command word is actaeon. ’

The tent collapsed into a tiny rectangle.

Phoebe picked it up, stuffed it into the

satchel and handed the bag to Reyna.

‘I … I don’t know what to say,’ Reyna

stammered. ‘Thank you.’

‘Aww …’ Phoebe shrugged. ‘It’s the least I

can do for –’

Fifty feet away, a side door banged open.

An Amazon ran straight towards Hylla. The

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newcomer wore a black trouser suit, her long

auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Reyna recognized her from the battle at

Camp Jupiter. ‘Kinzie, isn’t it?’

The girl gave her a distracted nod.

‘Praetor.’ She whispered something in

Hylla’s ear.

Hylla’s expression hardened. ‘I see.’ She

glanced at Reyna. ‘Something is wrong.

We’ve lost contact with the outer defences.

I’m afraid Orion –’

Behind Reyna, the metal doors exploded.

X X I V

Reyna

REYNA REACHED FOR HER SWORD – then

realized she didn’t have one.

‘Get out of here!’ Phoebe readied her bow.

Celyn and Naomi ran to the smoking door-

way, only to be cut down by black arrows.

Phoebe screamed in rage. She returned

fire as Amazons rushed forward with shields

and swords.

‘Reyna!’ Hylla pulled her arm. ‘We must

leave!’

‘We can’t just –’

‘My guards will buy you time!’ Hylla

shouted. ‘Your quest must succeed!’

445/982

Reyna hated it, but she ran after Hylla.

They reached the side door and Reyna

glanced back. Dozens of wolves – grey

wolves like the ones in Portugal – surged in-

to the warehouse. Amazons hurried to inter-

cept them. The smoke-filled doorway was

piled with bodies of the fallen: Celyn, Naomi,

Phoebe. The ginger-haired Hunter who’d

lived for thousands of years now sprawled

unmoving, her eyes wide with shock, an

oversized black-and-red arrow buried in her

gut. The Amazon Kinzie charged forward,

long knives flashing. She leaped over the

bodies and into the smoke.

Hylla pulled Reyna into the passageway.

Together they ran.

‘They’ll all die!’ Reyna yelled. ‘There must

be something –’

‘Don’t be stupid, sister!’ Hylla’s eyes were

bright with tears. ‘Orion outfoxed us. He’s

turned the ambush into a massacre. All we

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can do now is hold him back while you es-

cape. You must get that statue to the Greeks and defeat Gaia!’

She led Reyna up a flight of stairs. They

navigated a maze of corridors, then rounded

a corner into a locker room. They found

themselves face to face with a large grey

wolf, but before the beast could even snarl

Hylla punched it between the eyes. The wolf

crumpled.

‘Over here.’ Hylla ran to the nearest row of

lockers. ‘Your weapons are inside. Hurry.’

Reyna grabbed her knife, her sword and

her pack. Then she followed her sister up a

circular metal stairwell.

The top dead-ended at the ceiling. Hylla

turned and gave her a stern look. ‘I won’t

have time to explain this, all right? Stay

strong. Stay close.’

Reyna wondered what could be worse than

the scene they’d just left. Hylla pushed open

447/982

the trapdoor and they climbed through … in-

to their old home.

The main room was just as Reyna re-

membered. Opaque skylights glowed on the

twenty-foot ceilings. The stark white walls

were devoid of decoration. The furniture was

oak, steel and white leather – impersonal

and masculine. Both sides of the room were

overhung with terraces, which had always

made Reyna feel like she was being watched

(because often, she was).

Their father had done everything he could

to make the centuries-old hacienda feel like a

modern home. He’d added the skylights,

painted everything white to make it brighter

and airier. But he’d only succeeded in mak-

ing the place look like a well-groomed corpse

in a new suit.

The trapdoor had opened into the massive

fireplace. Why they even had a fireplace in Puerto Rico, Reyna had never understood,

448/982

but she and Hylla used to pretend the hearth

was a secret hideout where their father

couldn’t find them. They used to imagine

they could step inside and go to other places.

Now, Hylla had made that true. She had

linked her underground lair to their child-

hood home.

‘Hylla –’

‘I told you, we don’t have time.’

‘But –’

‘I own the building now. I put the deed in

my name.’

‘You did what?’

‘I was tired of running from the past,

Reyna. I decided to reclaim it.’

Reyna stared at her, dumbfounded. You

could reclaim a lost phone or a bag at the air-

port. You could even reclaim a hazardous

waste dump. But this house and what had

happened here? There was no reclaiming

that.

449/982

‘Sister,’ Hylla said, ‘we’re wasting time.

Are you coming or not?’

Reyna eyed the balconies, half expecting

luminous shapes to flicker at the railing.

‘Have you seen them?’

‘Some of them.’

‘Papa?’

‘Of course not,’ Hylla snapped. ‘You know

he’s gone for good.’

‘I don’t know anything of the sort. How

could you come back? Why?’

‘To understand!’ Hylla shouted. ‘Don’t you

want to know how it happened to him?’

‘No! You can’t learn anything from ghosts,

Hylla. You of all people should realize –’

‘I’m leaving,’ Hylla said. ‘Your friends are a

few blocks away. Are you coming with me, or

should I tell them you died because you got

lost in the past?’

‘ I’m not the one who took possession of

this place!’

450/982

Hylla turned on her heel and marched out

of the front door.

Reyna looked around one more time. She

remembered her last day here, when she was

ten years old. She could almost hear her

father’s angry roar echoing through the main

room, the chorus of wailing ghosts on the

balconies.

She ran for the exit. She burst into warm

afternoon sunlight and found that the street

hadn’t changed – the crumbling pastel

houses, the blue cobblestones, dozens of cats

sleeping under cars or in the shade of banana

trees.

Reyna might have felt nostalgic … except

that her sister stood a few feet away, facing

Orion.

‘Well, now.’ The giant smiled. ‘Both daugh-

ters of Bellona together. Excellent!’

Reyna felt personally offended.

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She had worked up an image of Orion as a

towering ugly demon, even worse than Poly-

botes, the giant who had attacked Camp

Jupiter.

Instead, Orion could have passed for hu-

man – a tall, muscular, handsome human.

His skin was the colour of wheat toast. His

dark hair was undercut, swept into spikes on

top. With his black leather breeches and jer-

kin, his hunting knife and his bow and

quiver, he might have been Robin Hood’s

evil, better-looking brother.

Only his eyes ruined the image. At first

glance, he appeared to be wearing military

night-vision goggles. Then Reyna realized

they weren’t goggles. They were the work of

Hephaestus – bronze mechanical eyes em-

bedded in the giant’s sockets. Focusing rings

spun and clicked as he regarded Reyna. Tar-

geting lasers flashed red to green. Reyna got

the uncomfortable impression he was seeing

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much more than her form – her heat signa-

ture, her heart rate, her level of fear.

At his side he held a black composite bow

almost as fancy as his eyes. Multiple strings

ran through a series of pulleys that looked

like miniature steam-train wheels. The grip

was polished bronze, studded with dials and

buttons.

He had no arrow nocked. He made no

threatening moves. He smiled so dazzlingly

it was hard to remember he was an enemy –

someone who’d killed at least half a dozen

Hunters and Amazons to get here.

Hylla drew her knives. ‘Reyna, go. I will

deal with this monster.’

Orion chuckled. ‘Hylla Twice-Kill, you

have courage. So did your lieutenants. They

are dead.’

Hylla took a step forward.

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Reyna grabbed her arm. ‘Orion!’ she said.

‘You have enough Amazon blood on your

hands. Perhaps it’s time you try a Roman.’

The giant’s eyes clicked and dilated. Red

laser dots floated across Reyna’s breastplate.

‘Ah, the young praetor. I admit, I’ve been

curious. Before I slay you, perhaps you’ll en-

lighten me. Why would a child of Rome go to

such lengths to help the Greeks? You have

forfeited your rank, abandoned your legion,

made yourself an outlaw – and for what?

Jason Grace scorned you. Percy Jackson re-

fused you. Haven’t you been … what’s the

word … dumped enough?’

Reyna’s ears buzzed. She recalled Aphrod-

ite’s warning, two years ago in Charleston:

You will not find love where you wish or

where you hope. No demigod shall heal your

heart.

454/982

She forced herself to meet the giant’s gaze.

‘I don’t define myself by the boys who may or

may not like me.’

‘Brave words.’ The giant’s smile was infuri-

ating. ‘But you are no different from the

Amazons, or the Hunters, or Artemis herself.

You speak of strength and independence. As

soon as you face a man of true prowess, your confidence crumbles. You feel threatened by

my dominance and how it attracts you. So

you run, or you surrender, or you die.’

Hylla shrugged off Reyna’s hand. ‘I will kill

you, giant. I will chop you into pieces so

small –’

‘Hylla,’ Reyna interrupted. Whatever else

happened here, she could not watch her sister die. Reyna had to keep the giant focused

on her. ‘Orion, you claim to be strong. Yet

you couldn’t keep the vows of the Hunt. You

died rejected. And now you’re running

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errands for your mother. So tell me again,

how exactly are you threatening?’

Orion’s jaw muscles clenched. His smile

became thinner and colder.

‘A good try,’ he admitted. ‘You’re hoping to

unbalance me. You think, perhaps, if you

keep me talking, reinforcements will save

you. Alas, Praetor, there are no reinforcements. I burned your sister’s underground

lair with her own Greek fire. No one

survived.’

Hylla roared and attacked. Orion hit her

with the butt of his bow. She flew backwards

into the street. Orion pulled an arrow from

his quiver.

‘Stop!’ Reyna yelled.

Her heart hammered in her ribcage. She

needed to find the giant’s weakness.

Barrachina was only a few blocks away. If

they could make it that far, Nico might be

able to shadow-travel them away. And the

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Hunters couldn’t all be dead … They’d been patrolling the entire perimeter of the old city.

Surely some of them were still out there …

‘Orion, you asked what motivates me.’ She

kept her voice level. ‘Don’t you want your an-

swer before you kill us? Surely it must puzzle

you, why women keep rejecting a big hand-

some guy like you.’

The giant nocked his arrow. ‘Now you have

mistaken me for Narcissus. I cannot be

flattered.’

‘Of course not,’ Reyna said. Hylla rose with

a murderous look on her face, but Reyna

reached out with her senses, trying to share

with her sister the most difficult kind of

strength – restraint. ‘Still … it must infuriate

you. First you were dumped by a mortal

princess –’

‘Merope.’ Orion sneered. ‘A beautiful girl,

but stupid. If she’d had any sense, she would

have understood I was flirting with her.’

457/982

‘Let me guess,’ Reyna said. ‘She screamed

and called for the guards instead.’

‘I was without my weapons at the time.

You don’t bring your bow and knives when

you’re courting a princess. The guards took

me easily. Her father the king had me

blinded and exiled.’

Just above Reyna’s head, a pebble

skittered across a clay-tiled roof. It might

have been her imagination, but she re-

membered that sound from the many nights

Hylla would sneak out of her own locked

room and creep across the roof to check on

her.

It took all of Reyna’s willpower not to

glance up.

‘But you got new eyes,’ she said to the gi-

ant. ‘Hephaestus took pity on you.’

‘Yes …’ Orion’s gaze became unfocused.

Reyna could tell, because the laser targets

disappeared from her chest. ‘I ended up on

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Delos, where I met Artemis. Do you know

how strange it is to meet your mortal enemy

and end up being attracted to her?’ He

laughed. ‘Praetor, what am I saying? Of

course you know. Perhaps you feel for the

Greeks as I felt for Artemis – a guilty fascina-

tion, an admiration that turns to love. But

too much love is poison, especially when that

love is not returned. If you do not under-

stand that already, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano,

you soon will.’

Hylla limped forward, her knives still in

hand. ‘Sister, why do you let this beast talk?

Let’s put him down.’

‘Can you?’ Orion mused. ‘Many have tried.

Even Artemis’s own brother, Apollo, was not

able to kill me back in the ancient times. He

had to use trickery to get rid of me.’

‘He didn’t like you hanging out with his

sister?’ Reyna listened for more sounds from

the roofs, but heard nothing.

459/982

‘Apollo was jealous.’ The giant’s fingers

curled around his bowstring. He drew it

back, setting the bow’s wheels and pulleys

spinning. ‘He feared I might charm Artemis

into forgetting her vows of maidenhood. And

who knows? Without Apollo’s interference,

perhaps I would have. She would have been

happier.’

‘As your servant?’ Hylla growled. ‘Your

meek little housewife?’

‘It hardly matters now,’ Orion said. ‘At any

rate, Apollo inflicted me with madness – a

bloodlust to kill all the beasts of the earth. I

slaughtered thousands before my mother,

Gaia, finally put a stop to my rampage. She

summoned a giant scorpion from the earth.

It stabbed me in the back and its poison

killed me. I owe her for that.’

‘You owe Gaia,’ Reyna said, ‘for killing

you.’

460/982

Orion’s mechanical pupils spiralled into

tiny, glowing points. ‘My mother showed me

the truth. I was fighting against my own

nature, and it brought me nothing but

misery. Giants are not meant to love mortals or gods. Gaia helped me accept what I am.

Eventually we all must return home, Praetor.

We must embrace our past, no matter how

bitter and dark.’ He nodded his chin towards

the villa behind her. ‘Just as you have done.

You have your own share of ghosts, eh?’

Reyna drew her sword. You can’t learn

anything from ghosts, she had told her sis-

ter. Perhaps she couldn’t learn anything

from giants, either.

‘This is not my home,’ she said. ‘And we

are not alike.’

‘I have seen the truth.’ The giant sounded

truly sympathetic. ‘You cling to the fantasy

that you can make your enemies love you.

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You cannot, Reyna. There is no love for you

at Camp Half-Blood.’

Aphrodite’s words echoed in her head: No

demigod shall heal your heart.

Reyna studied the giant’s handsome, cruel

face, his glowing mechanical eyes. For a ter-

rible moment, she could understand how

even a goddess, even an eternal maiden like

Artemis, might fall for Orion’s honeyed

words.

‘I could have killed you twenty times by

now,’ the giant said. ‘You realize that, don’t

you? Let me spare you. A simple show of

faith is all I need. Tell me where the statue

is.’

Reyna almost dropped her sword. Where

the statue is …

Orion hadn’t located the Athena

Parthenos. The Hunters’ camouflage had

worked. All this time, the giant had been

tracking Reyna, which meant that even if she

462/982

died right now Nico and Coach Hedge might

stay safe. The quest was not doomed.

She felt as if she’d shed a hundred pounds

of armour. She laughed. The sound echoed

down the cobblestone street.

‘Phoebe outsmarted you,’ she said. ‘By

tracking me, you lost the statue. Now my

friends are free to continue their mission.’

Orion curled his lip. ‘Oh, I will find them,

Praetor. After I deal with you.’

‘Then I suppose,’ Reyna said, ‘we will have

to deal with you first.’

‘ That is my sister,’ Hylla said proudly.

Together they charged.

The giant’s first shot would have skewered

Reyna, but Hylla was fast. She sliced the ar-

row out of the air and lunged at Orion. Reyna

stabbed at his chest. The giant intercepted

both of their attacks with his bow.

463/982

He kicked Hylla backwards into the hood

of an old Chevy. Half a dozen cats scattered

from underneath it. The giant spun, a dagger

suddenly in his hand, and Reyna just man-

aged to dodge the blade.

She stabbed again, ripping through his

leather jerkin, but only managed to graze his

chest.

‘You fight well, Praetor,’ he admitted. ‘But

not well enough to live.’

Reyna willed her blade to extend into a pi-

lum. ‘My death means nothing.’

If her friends could continue their quest in

peace, she was fully prepared to go down

fighting. But first she intended to hurt this

giant so badly he would never forget her

name.

‘What about your sister’s death?’ Orion

asked. ‘Does that mean something?’

Faster than Reyna could blink, he sent an

arrow flying towards Hylla’s chest. A scream

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built in Reyna’s throat, but somehow Hylla

caught the arrow.

Hylla slid off the hood of the car and

snapped the arrow with one hand. ‘I am the

queen of the Amazons, you idiot. I wear the

royal belt. With the strength it gives me, I

will avenge the Amazons you killed today.’

Hylla grabbed the front bumper of the

Chevy and flipped the entire car towards Ori-

on, as easily as if she were splashing him

with water in a swimming pool.

The Chevy sandwiched Orion against the

wall of the nearest house. Stucco cracked. A

banana tree toppled. More cats fled.

Reyna ran towards the wreckage, but the

giant bellowed and shoved away the car.

‘You will die together!’ he promised. Two

arrows appeared nocked in his bow, the

string fully drawn back.

Then the rooftops exploded with noise.

465/982

‘DIE!’ Gleeson Hedge dropped directly be-

hind Orion, smacking his baseball bat over

the giant’s head so hard the Louisville Slug-

ger cracked in half.

At the same time, Nico di Angelo dropped

in front. He slashed his Stygian sword across

the giant’s bowstring, causing pulleys and

gears to zip and creak, the string recoiling

with hundreds of pounds of force until it

whacked Orion in the nose like a hydraulic

bullwhip.

‘OOOOOOOOW!!’ Orion staggered back-

wards, dropping his bow.

Hunters of Artemis appeared along the

rooftops, shooting Orion full of silver arrows

until he resembled a glowing hedgehog. He

staggered blindly, holding his nose, his face

streaming with golden ichor.

Someone grabbed Reyna’s arm. ‘Come on!’

Thalia Grace had returned.

‘Go with her!’ Hylla ordered.

466/982

Reyna’s heart felt like it was shattering.

‘Sister –’

‘You have to leave! NOW!’ It was exactly

what Hylla had said to her six years ago, the

night they escaped their father’s house. ‘I’ll

delay Orion as long as possible.’

Hylla grabbed one of the giant’s legs. She

yanked him off balance and tossed him sev-

eral blocks down the Calle San Jose, to the

general consternation of several dozen more

cats. The Hunters ran after him along the

rooftops, shooting arrows that exploded in

Greek fire, wreathing the giant in flames.

‘Your sister’s right,’ Thalia said. ‘You need

to go.’

Nico and Hedge fell in alongside her, both

looking very pleased with themselves. They

had apparently gone shopping at the Bar-

rachina souvenir shop, where they’d replaced

their dirty tattered shirts with loud tropical

numbers.

467/982

‘Nico,’ Reyna said, ‘you look –’

‘Not a word about the shirt,’ he warned.

‘Not one word.’

‘Why did you come looking for me?’ she

demanded. ‘You could have got away free.

The giant has been tracking me. If you had just left –’

‘You’re welcome, cupcake,’ the coach

grumbled. ‘We weren’t about to leave

without you. Now let’s get out of …’

He glanced over Reyna’s shoulder and his

voice faltered.

Reyna turned.

Behind her, the second-storey balconies of

her family house were crowded with glowing

figures: a man with a forked beard and rus-

ted conquistador armour; another bearded

man in eighteenth-century pirate clothes, his

shirt peppered with gunshot holes; a lady in

a bloody nightgown; a U.S. Navy captain in

his dress whites; and a dozen more Reyna

468/982

knew from her childhood – all of them glar-

ing at her accusingly, their voices whispering

in her mind: Traitor. Murderer.

‘No …’ Reyna felt like she was ten years old

again. She wanted to curl up in the corner of

her room and press her hands over her ears

to stop the whispering.

Nico took her arm. ‘Reyna, who are they?

What do they – ?’

‘I can’t,’ she pleaded. ‘I – I can’t.’

She’d spent so many years building a dam

inside her to hold back the fear. Now, it

broke. Her strength washed away.

‘It’s all right.’ Nico gazed up at the ball-

conies. The ghosts disappeared, but Reyna

knew they weren’t really gone. They were

never really gone. ‘We’ll get you out of here,’

Nico promised. ‘Let’s move.’

Thalia took Reyna’s other arm. The four of

them ran for the restaurant and the Athena

469/982

Parthenos. Behind them, Reyna heard Orion

roaring in pain, Greek fire exploding.

And in her mind the voices still whispered:

Murderer. Traitor. You can never flee your

crime.

X X V

Jason

JASON ROSE FROM HIS DEATHBED so he could

drown with the rest of the crew.

The ship was tilting so violently he had to

climb the floor to get out of sickbay. The hull

creaked. The engine groaned like a dying wa-

ter buffalo. Cutting through the roar of the

wind, the goddess Nike screamed from the

stables: ‘YOU CAN DO BETTER, STORM!

GIVE ME A HUNDRED AND TEN

PERCENT!’

Jason climbed the stairs to the middle

deck. His legs shook. His head spun. The

472/982

ship pitched to port, knocking him against

the opposite wall.

Hazel stumbled out of her cabin, hugging

her stomach. ‘I hate the ocean!’

When she saw him, her eyes widened.

‘What are you doing out of bed?’

‘I’m going up there!’ he insisted. ‘I can

help!’

Hazel looked like she wanted to argue.

Then the ship tilted to starboard and she

staggered towards the bathroom, her hand

over her mouth.

Jason fought his way to the stairs. He

hadn’t been out of bed in a day and a half,

ever since the girls got back from Sparta and

he’d unexpectedly collapsed. His muscles re-

belled at the effort. His gut felt like Michael

Varus was standing behind him, repeatedly

stabbing him and yelling, Die like a Roman!

Die like a Roman!

473/982

Jason forced down the pain. He was tired

of people taking care of him, whispering how

worried they were. He was tired of dreaming

about being a shish kebab. He’d spent

enough time nursing the wound in his gut.

Either it would kill him or it wouldn’t. He

wasn’t going to wait around for the wound to

decide. He had to help his friends.

Somehow he made it above deck.

What he saw there made him almost as

nauseous as Hazel. A wave the size of a sky-

scraper crashed over the forward deck, wash-

ing the front crossbows and half the port

railing out to sea. The sails were ripped to

shreds. Lightning flashed all around, hitting

the sea like spotlights. Horizontal rain blas-

ted Jason’s face. The clouds were so dark he

honestly couldn’t tell if it was day or night.

The crew was doing what they could …

which wasn’t much.

474/982

Leo had lashed himself to the console with

a bungee cord harness. That might have

seemed like a good idea when he rigged it up,

but every time a wave hit he was washed

away, then smacked back into his control

board like a human paddleball.

Piper and Annabeth were trying to save

the rigging. Since Sparta they’d become quite

a team – able to work together without even

talking, which was just as well, since they

couldn’t have heard each other over the

storm.

Frank – at least Jason assumed it was

Frank – had turned into a gorilla. He was

swinging upside down off the starboard rail,

using his massive strength and his flexible

feet to hang on while he untangled some

broken oars. Apparently the crew was trying

to get the ship airborne, but, even if they

managed to take off, Jason wasn’t sure the

sky would be any safer.

475/982

Even Festus the figurehead was trying to

help. He spewed fire at the rain, though that

didn’t seem to discourage the storm.

Only Percy was having any luck. He stood

by the centre mast, his hands extended like

he was on a tightrope. Every time the ship

tilted, he pushed in the opposite direction

and the hull stabilized. He summoned giant

fists of water from the ocean to slam into the

larger waves before they could reach the

deck, so it looked like the ocean was hitting

itself repeatedly in the face.

With the storm as bad as it was, Jason

realized the ship would’ve already capsized

or been smashed to bits if Percy wasn’t on

the job.

Jason staggered towards the mast. Leo

yelled something – probably Go downstairs!

– but Jason only waved back. He made it to

Percy’s side and grabbed his shoulder.

476/982

Percy nodded like ’sup. He didn’t look

shocked, or demand that Jason go back to

sickbay, which Jason appreciated.

Percy could stay dry if he concentrated,

but obviously he had bigger things to worry

about right now. His dark hair was plastered

to his face. His clothes were soaked and

ripped.

He shouted something in Jason’s ear, but

Jason could only make out a few words:

‘THING … DOWN … STOP IT!’

Percy pointed over the side.

‘Something is causing the storm?’ Jason

asked.

Percy grinned and tapped his ears. Clearly,

he couldn’t hear a word. He made a gesture

with his hand like diving overboard. Then he

tapped Jason on the chest.

‘You want me to go?’ Jason felt kind of

honoured. Everybody else had been treating

him like a glass vase, but Percy … well, he

477/982

seemed to figure that if Jason was on deck he

was ready for action.

‘Happy to!’ Jason shouted. ‘But I can’t

breathe underwater!’

Percy shrugged. Sorry, can’t hear you.

Then Percy ran to the starboard rail,

pushed another massive wave away from the

ship and jumped overboard.

Jason glanced at Piper and Annabeth.

They both clung to the rigging, staring at him

in shock. Piper’s expression said, Are you

out of your mind?

He gave her an okay sign, partly to assure her that he would be fine (which he wasn’t

sure about), partly to agree that he was in

fact crazy (which he was sure about).

He staggered to the railing and looked up

at the storm.

Winds raged. Clouds churned. Jason

sensed an entire army of venti swirling above 478/982

him, too angry and agitated to take physical

form, but hungry for destruction.

He raised his arm and summoned a lasso

of wind. Jason had learned long ago that the

best way to control a crowd of bullies was to

pick the meanest, biggest kid and force him

into submission. Then the others would fall

in line. He lashed out with his wind rope,

searching for strongest, most ornery ventus

in the storm.

He lassoed a nasty patch of storm cloud

and pulled it in. ‘You’re serving me today.’

Howling in protest, the ventus encircled

him. The storm above the ship seemed to

lessen just a bit, as if the other venti were thinking, Oh, crud. That guy means

business.

Jason levitated off the deck, encased in his

own miniature tornado. Spinning like a cork-

screw, he plunged into the water.

479/982

Jason assumed things would be calmer

underwater.

Not so much.

Of course, that could’ve been due to his

mode of travel. Riding a cyclone to the bot-

tom of the ocean definitely gave him some

unexpected turbulence. He dropped and

swerved with no apparent logic, his ears pop-

ping, his stomach pressed against his ribs.

Finally he drifted to a stop next to Percy,

who stood on a ledge jutting over a deeper

abyss.

‘Hey,’ Percy said.

Jason could hear him perfectly, though he

wasn’t sure how. ‘What’s going on?’

In his ventus air cocoon, his own voice

sounded like he was talking through a vacu-

um cleaner.

Percy pointed into the void. ‘Wait for it.’

480/982

Three seconds later, a shaft of green light

swept through the darkness like a spotlight,

then disappeared.

‘Something’s down there,’ Percy said, ‘stir-

ring up this storm.’ He turned and sized up

Jason’s tornado. ‘Nice outfit. Can you hold it

together if we go deeper?’

‘I have no idea how I’m doing this,’ Jason

said.

‘Okay,’ Percy said. ‘Well, just don’t get

knocked unconscious.’

‘Shut up, Jackson.’

Percy grinned. ‘Let’s see what’s down

there.’

They sank so deep that Jason couldn’t see

anything except Percy swimming next to him

in the dim light of their gold and bronze

blades.

Every so often the green searchlight shot

upward. Percy swam straight towards it.

Jason’s ventus crackled and roared, straining 481/982

to escape. The smell of ozone made him

lightheaded, but he kept his shell of air

intact.

At last, the darkness lessened below them.

Soft white luminous patches, like schools of

jellyfish, floated before Jason’s eyes. As he

approached the seafloor, he realized the

patches were glowing fields of algae sur-

rounding the ruins of a palace. Silt swirled

through empty courtyards with abalone

floors. Barnacle-covered Greek columns

marched into the gloom. In the centre of the

complex rose a citadel larger than Grand

Central Station, its walls encrusted with

pearls, its domed golden roof cracked open

like an egg.

‘Atlantis?’ Jason asked.

‘That’s a myth,’ Percy said.

‘Uh … don’t we deal in myths?’

‘No, I mean it’s a made-up myth. Not, like, an actual true myth.’

482/982

‘So this is why Annabeth is the brains of

the operation, then?’

‘Shut up, Grace.’

They floated through the broken dome and

down into shadows.

‘This place seems familiar.’ Percy’s voice

became edgy. ‘Almost like I’ve been here –’

The green spotlight flashed directly below

them, blinding Jason.

He dropped like a stone, touching down on

the smooth marble floor. When his vision

cleared, he saw that they weren’t alone.

Standing before them was a twenty-foot-

tall woman in a flowing green dress, cinched

at the waist with a belt of abalone shells. Her

skin was as luminous white as the fields of

algae. Her hair swayed and glowed like jelly-

fish tendrils.

Her face was beautiful but unearthly – her

eyes too bright, her features too delicate, her

smile too cold, as if she’d been studying

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human smiles and hadn’t quite mastered the

art.

Her hands rested on a disc of polished

green metal about six feet in diameter, sit-

ting on a bronze tripod. It reminded Jason of

a steel drum he’d once seen a street per-

former play at the Embarcadero in San

Francisco.

The woman turned the metal disc like a

steering wheel. A shaft of green light shot up-

ward, churning the water, shaking the walls

of the old palace. Shards from the domed

ceiling broke and tumbled down in slow

motion.

‘You’re making the storm,’ Jason said.

‘Indeed I am.’ The woman’s voice was

melodic – yet it had a strange resonance, as

if it extended past the human range of hear-

ing. Pressure built between Jason’s eyes. His

sinuses felt like they might explode.

484/982

‘Okay, I’ll bite,’ Percy said. ‘Who are you,

and what do you want?’

The woman turned towards him. ‘Why, I

am your sister, Perseus Jackson. And I

wanted to meet you before you die.’

X X V I

Jason

JASON SAW TWO OPTIONS: FIGHT OR TALK.

Usually, when faced with a creepy twenty-

foot-tall lady with jellyfish hair, he would’ve

gone with fight.

But since she called Percy brother – that

made him hesitate.

‘Percy, do you know this … individual?’

Percy shook his head. ‘Doesn’t look like my

mom, so I’m gonna guess we’re related on

the godly side. You a daughter of Poseidon,

Miss … uh … ?’

The pale lady raked her fingernails against

the metal disc, making a screeching sound

487/982

like a tortured whale. ‘No one knows me,’ she

sighed. ‘Why would I assume my own broth-

er would recognize me? I am Kymopoleia!’

Percy and Jason exchanged looks.

‘So …’ Percy said. ‘We’re going to call you

Kym. And you’d be a, hmm, Nereid, then?

Minor goddess?’

‘ Minor? ’

‘By which,’ Jason said quickly, ‘he means

under the drinking age! Because obviously

you’re so young and beautiful.’

Percy flashed him a look: Nice save.

The goddess turned her full attention to

Jason. She pointed her index finger and

traced his outline in the water. Jason could

feel his captured air spirit rippling around

him, as if it were being tickled.

‘Jason Grace,’ said the goddess. ‘Son of

Jupiter.’

‘Yeah. I’m a friend of Percy’s.’

488/982

Kym’s narrowed. ‘So it’s true … these times

make for strange friends and unexpected en-

emies. The Romans never worshipped me.

To them, I was a nameless fear – a sign of

Neptune’s greatest wrath. They never wor-

shipped Kymopoleia, the goddess of violent

sea storms!’

She spun her disc. Another beam of green

light flashed upward, churning the water and

making the ruins rumble.

‘Uh, yeah,’ Percy said. ‘The Romans aren’t

big on navies. They had, like, one rowboat.

Which I sank. Speaking of violent storms,

you’re doing a first-rate job upstairs.’

‘Thank you,’ said Kym.

‘Thing is, our ship is caught in it, and it’s

kind of being ripped apart. I’m sure you

didn’t mean to –’

‘Oh, yes, I did.’

489/982

‘You did.’ Percy grimaced. ‘Well … that

sucks. I don’t suppose you’d cut it out, then,

if we asked nicely?’

‘No,’ the goddess agreed. ‘Even now, the

ship is close to sinking. I’m rather amazed

it’s held together this long. Excellent

workmanship.’

Sparks flew from Jason’s arms into the

tornado. He thought about Piper and the rest

of the crew frantically trying to keep the ship

in one piece. By coming down here, he and

Percy had left the others defenceless. They

had to act soon.

Besides, Jason’s air was getting stale. He

wasn’t sure if it was possible to use up a

ventus by inhaling it, but, if he was going to have to fight, he’d better take on Kym before

he ran out of oxygen.

The thing was … fighting a goddess on her

home court wouldn’t be easy. Even if they

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managed to take her down, there was no

guarantee the storm would stop.

‘So … Kym,’ he said, ‘what could we do to

make you change your mind and let our ship

go?’

Kym gave him that creepy alien smile. ‘Son

of Jupiter, do you know where you are?’

Jason was tempted to answer underwater.

‘You mean these ruins. An ancient palace?’

‘Indeed,’ Kym said. ‘The original palace of

my father, Poseidon.’

Percy snapped his fingers, which sounded

like a muffled explosion. ‘That’s why I recog-

nized it. Dad’s new crib in the Atlantic is

kind of like this.’

‘I wouldn’t know,’ Kym said. ‘I am never

invited to see my parents. I can only wander

the ruins of their old domains. They find my presence … disruptive.’

She spun her wheel again. The entire back

wall of the building collapsed, sending a

491/982

cloud of silt and algae through the chamber.

Fortunately the ventus acted like a fan, blowing the debris out of Jason’s face.

‘Disruptive?’ Jason said. ‘You?’

‘My father does not welcome me in his

court,’ Kym said. ‘He restricts my powers.

This storm above? I haven’t had this much

fun in ages, yet it is only a small taste of what I can do!’

‘A little goes a long way,’ Percy said. ‘Any-

way, to Jason’s question about changing

your mind –’

‘My father even married me off,’ Kym said,

‘without my permission. He gave me away

like a trophy to Briares, a Hundred-Handed

One, as a reward for supporting the gods in

the war with Kronos aeons ago.’

Percy’s face brightened. ‘Hey, I know Bri-

ares. He’s a friend of mine! I freed him from

Alcatraz.’

492/982

‘Yes, I know.’ Kym’s eyes glinted coldly. ‘I

hate my husband. I was not at all pleased to have him back.’

‘Oh. So … is Briares around?’ Percy asked

hopefully.

Kym’s laugh sounded like dolphin chatter.

‘He’s off at Mount Olympus in New York,

shoring up the gods’ defences. Not that it will

matter. My point, dear brother, is that Pos-

eidon has never treated me fairly. I like to

come here, to his old palace, because it

pleases me to see his works in ruins.

Someday soon his new palace will look like this one, and the seas will rage unchecked.’

Percy looked at Jason. ‘This is the part

where she tells us she’s working for Gaia.’

‘Yeah,’ Jason said. ‘And the Earth Mother

promised her a better deal once the gods are

destroyed, blah, blah, blah.’ He turned to

Kym. ‘You understand that Gaia won’t keep

493/982

her promises, right? She’s using you, just like

she’s using the giants.’

‘I am touched by your concern,’ said the

goddess. ‘The Olympian gods, on the other

hand, have never used me, eh?’

Percy spread his hands. ‘At least the

Olympians are trying. After the last Titan

war, they started paying more attention to

the other gods. A lot of them have cabins

now at Camp Half-Blood: Hecate, Hades,

Hebe, Hypnos … uh, and probably some that

don’t begin with H, too. We give them offerings at every meal, cool banners, special re-

cognition in the end-of-summer programme

–’

‘And do I get such offerings?’ Kym asked.

‘Well … no. We didn’t know you existed.

But –’

‘Then save your words, brother.’ Kym’s

jellyfish-tentacle hair floated towards him, as

if anxious to paralyse new prey. ‘I have heard

494/982

so much about the great Percy Jackson. The

giants are quite obsessed with capturing you.

I must say … I don’t see what the fuss is

about.’

‘Thanks, sis. But, if you’re going to try to

kill me, I gotta warn you it’s been tried be-

fore. I’ve faced a lot of goddesses recently –

Nike, Akhlys, even Nyx herself. Compared to them, you’re not scaring me. Also, you laugh

like a dolphin.’

Kym’s delicate nostrils flared. Jason got

his sword ready.

‘Oh, I won’t kill you,’ Kym said. ‘My part of

the bargain was simply to get your attention.

Someone else is here, though, who very

much wants to kill you.’

Above them, at the edge of the broken

roof, a dark shape appeared – a figure even

taller than Kymopoleia.

‘The son of Neptune,’ boomed a deep voice.

495/982

The giant floated down. Clouds of dark vis-

cous fluid – poison, perhaps – curled from

his blue skin. His green breastplate was fash-

ioned to resemble a cluster of open hungry

mouths. In his hands were the weapons of a

retiarius – a trident and a weighted net.

Jason had never met this particular giant,

but he’d heard stories. ‘Polybotes,’ he said,

‘the anti-Poseidon.’

The giant shook his dreadlocks. A dozen

serpents swam free – each one lime green

with a frilled crown around its head.

Basilisks.

‘Indeed, son of Rome,’ the giant said. ‘But,

if you’ll excuse me, my immediate business is

with Perseus Jackson. I tracked him all the

way across Tartarus. Now, here in his fath-

er’s ruins, I mean to crush him once and for

all.’

X X V I I

Jason

JASON HATED BASILISKS.

The little scum-suckers loved to burrow

under the temples in New Rome. Back when

Jason was a centurion, his cohort always got

the unpopular chore of clearing out their

nests.

A basilisk didn’t look like much – just an

arm-length serpent with yellow eyes and a

white frill collar – but it moved fast and

could kill anything it touched. Jason had

never faced more than two at a time. Now a

dozen were swimming around the giant’s

legs. The only good thing: underwater,

498/982

basilisks wouldn’t be able to breathe fire, but

that didn’t make them any less deadly.

Two of the serpents shot towards Percy.

He sliced them in half. The other ten swirled

around him, just out of blade’s reach. They

writhed back and forth in a hypnotic pattern,

looking for an opening. One bite, one touch

was all it would take.

‘Hey!’ Jason yelled. ‘How about some love

over here?’

The snakes ignored him.

So did the giant, who stood back and

watched with a smug smile, apparently

happy for his pets to do the killing.

‘Kymopoleia.’ Jason tried his best to pro-

nounce her name right. ‘You have to stop

this.’

She regarded him with her glowing white

eyes. ‘Why would I do that? The Earth Moth-

er has promised me unrestricted power.

Could you make me a better offer?’

499/982

A better offer …

He sensed the possibility of an opening –

room to negotiate. But what did he have that

a storm goddess would want?

The basilisks closed in on Percy. He blas-

ted them away with currents of water, but

they just kept circling.

‘Hey, basilisks!’ Jason yelled.

Still no reaction. He could charge in and

help, but even together he and Percy couldn’t

possibly fight off ten basilisks at once. He

needed a better solution.

He glanced up. A thunderstorm raged

above, but they were hundreds of feet down.

He couldn’t possibly summon lightning at

the bottom of the sea, could he? Even if he

could, water conducted electricity a little too

well. He might fry Percy.

But he couldn’t think of a better option. He

thrust up his sword. Immediately the blade

glowed red-hot.

500/982

A diffuse cloud of yellow light billowed

through the depths, like someone had

poured liquid neon into the water. The light

hit Jason’s sword and sprayed outwards in

ten separate tendrils, zapping the basilisks.

Their eyes went dark. Their frills disinteg-

rated. All ten serpents turned belly-up and

floated dead in the water.

‘Next time,’ Jason said, ‘ look at me when

I’m talking to you.’

Polybotes’s smile curdled. ‘Are you so

anxious to die, Roman?’

Percy raised his sword. He hurled himself

at the giant, but Polybotes swept his hand

through the water, leaving an arc of black

oily poison. Percy charged straight into it

faster than Jason could yell, Dude, what are

you thinking?

Percy dropped Riptide. He gasped, clawing

at his throat. The giant threw his weighted

net and Percy collapsed to the floor,

501/982

hopelessly entangled as the poison thickened

around him.

‘Let him go!’ Jason’s voice cracked with

panic.

The giant chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, son of

Jupiter. Your friend will take a long time to die. After all the trouble he’s caused me, I

wouldn’t dream of killing him quickly.’

Noxious clouds expanded around the gi-

ant, filling the ruins like thick cigar smoke.

Jason scrambled backwards, not fast

enough, but his ventus proved a useful filter.

As the poison engulfed him, the miniature

tornado spun faster, repelling the clouds. Ky-

mopoleia wrinkled her nose and waved away

the darkness, but otherwise it didn’t seem to

affect her.

Percy writhed in the net, his face turning

green. Jason charged to help him, but the gi-

ant blocked him with his huge trident.

502/982

‘Oh, I can’t let you ruin my fun,’ Polybotes

chided. ‘The poison will kill him eventually,

but first come the paralysis and hours of ex-

cruciating pain. I want him to have the full

experience! He can watch as I destroy you,

Jason Grace!’

Polybotes advanced slowly, giving Jason

plenty of time to contemplate the three-

storey-tall tower of armour and muscle bear-

ing down on him.

He dodged the trident and, using his

ventus to shoot forward, jabbed his sword

into the giant’s reptilian leg. Polybotes

roared and stumbled, golden ichor pluming

from the wound.

‘Kym!’ Jason yelled. ‘Is this really what you

want?’

The storm goddess looked rather bored,

idly spinning her metal disc. ‘Unlimited

power? Why not?’

503/982

‘But is it any fun?’ Jason asked. ‘So you

destroy our ship. You destroy the entire

coastline of the world. Once Gaia wipes out

human civilization, who’s left to fear you?

You’ll still be unknown.’

Polybotes turned. ‘You are a pest, son of

Jupiter. You will be crushed!’

Jason tried to summon more lightning.

Nothing happened. If he ever met his dad,

he’d have to petition for an increased daily

allowance of bolts.

Jason managed to avoid the prongs of the

trident again, but the giant swung the other

end around and smacked him in the chest.

Jason reeled back, stunned and in pain.

Polybotes came in for the kill. Just before the

trident would have perforated him, Jason’s

ventus acted on its own. It spiralled sideways, whisking Jason thirty feet across the

courtyard.

504/982

Thanks, buddy, Jason thought. I owe you

some air freshener.

If the ventus liked that idea, Jason

couldn’t tell.

‘Actually, Jason Grace,’ Kym said, studying

her fingernails, ‘now that you mention it, I

do enjoy being feared by mortals. I am not feared enough.’

‘I can help with that!’ Jason dodged anoth-

er swipe of the trident. He extended his gla-

dius into a javelin and poked Polybotes in the eye.

‘AUGH!’ The giant staggered.

Percy writhed in the net, but his move-

ments were getting sluggish. Jason needed to

hurry. He had to get Percy to sickbay, and if

the storm kept raging above them there

wouldn’t be any sickbay to get him to.

He flew to Kym’s side. ‘You know gods de-

pend on mortals. The more we honour you,

the more powerful you get.’

505/982

‘I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been

honoured!’

She ignored Polybotes, who was now

stampeding around her, trying to swat Jason

out of his whirlwind. Jason did his best to

keep the goddess between them.

‘I can change that,’ he promised. ‘I will

personally arrange a shrine for you on

Temple Hill in New Rome. Your first ever

Roman shrine! I’ll raise one at Camp Half-

Blood as well, right on the shore of Long Is-

land Sound. Imagine, being honoured –’

‘And feared.’

‘– and feared by both Greeks and Romans.

You’ll be famous!’

‘STOP TALKING!’ Polybotes swung his tri-

dent like a baseball bat.

Jason ducked. Kym did not. The giant

slammed her in the ribcage so hard that

strands of her jellyfish hair came loose and

drifted through the poisoned water.

506/982

Polybotes’s eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry, Ky-

mopoleia. You shouldn’t have been in the

way!’

‘IN THE WAY?’ The goddess straightened.

‘I am in the way?’

‘You heard him,’ Jason said. ‘You’re noth-

ing but a tool for the giants. They’ll cast you

aside as soon as they’re through destroying

the mortals. Then no demigods, no shrines,

no fear, no respect.’

‘LIES!’ Polybotes tried to stab him, but

Jason hid behind the goddess’s dress. ‘Ky-

mopoleia, when Gaia rules, you will rage and

storm without restraint!’

‘Will there be mortals to terrorize?’ Kym

asked.

‘Well … no.’

‘Ships to destroy? Demigods to cower in

awe?’

‘Um …’

507/982

‘Help me,’ Jason urged. ‘Together, a god-

dess and a demigod can kill a giant.’

‘No!’ Polybotes suddenly looked very

nervous. ‘No, that’s a terrible idea. Gaia will

be most displeased!’

‘ If Gaia wakes,’ Jason said. ‘The mighty

Kymopoleia can help us make sure that nev-

er happens. Then all demigods will honour

you big-time!’

‘Will they cower?’ Kym asked.

‘Tons of cowering! Plus your name in the

summer programme. A custom-designed

banner. A cabin at Camp Half-Blood. Two

shrines. I’ll even throw in a Kymopoleia ac-

tion figure.’

‘No!’ Polybotes wailed. ‘Not merchand-

ising rights!’

Kymopoleia turned on the giant. ‘I’m

afraid that deal beats what Gaia has offered.’

‘Unacceptable!’ the giant bellowed. ‘You

cannot trust this vile Roman!’

508/982

‘If I don’t honour the bargain,’ Jason said,

‘Kym can always kill me. With Gaia, she has

no guarantee at all.’

‘That,’ Kym said, ‘is difficult to argue with.’

As Polybotes struggled to answer, Jason

charged forward and stabbed his javelin in

the giant’s gut.

Kym lifted her bronze disc from its pedes-

tal. ‘Say goodbye, Polybotes.’

She spun the disc at the giant’s neck.

Turned out, the rim was sharp.

Polybotes found it difficult to say goodbye,

since he no longer had a head.

X X V I I I

Jason

‘POISON IS A NASTY HABIT.’ Kymopoleia

waved her hand and the murky clouds dis-

sipated. ‘Secondhand poison can kill a per-

son, you know.’

Jason wasn’t too fond of firsthand poison

either, but he decided not to mention that.

He cut Percy out of the net and propped him

against the temple wall, enveloping him in

the airy shell of the ventus. The oxygen was getting thin, but Jason hoped it might help

expel the poison from his friend’s lungs.

It seemed to work. Percy doubled over and

began to retch. ‘Ugh. Thanks.’

511/982

Jason exhaled with relief. ‘You had me

worried there, bro.’

Percy blinked, cross-eyed. ‘I’m still a little

fuzzy. But did you … promise Kym an action

figure?’

The goddess loomed over them. ‘Indeed he

did. And I expect him to deliver.’

‘I will,’ Jason said. ‘When we win this war,

I’m going to make sure all the gods get recognized.’ He put a hand on Percy’s

shoulder. ‘My friend here started that pro-

cess last summer. He made the Olympians

promise to pay you guys more attention.’

Kym sniffed. ‘We know what an Olympian

promise is worth.’

‘Which is why I’m going to finish the job.’

Jason didn’t know where these words were

coming from, but the idea felt absolutely

right. ‘I’ll make sure none of the gods are for-

gotten at either camp. Maybe they’ll get

temples, or cabins, or at least shrines –’

512/982

‘Or collectible trading cards,’ Kym

suggested.

‘Sure.’ Jason smiled. ‘I’ll go back and forth

between the camps until the job is done.’

Percy whistled. ‘You’re talking about

dozens of gods.’

‘Hundreds,’ Kym corrected.

‘Well, then,’ Jason said, ‘it might take a

while. But you’ll be first on the list, Kymo-

poleia … the storm goddess who beheaded a

giant and saved our quest.’

Kym stroked her jellyfish hair. ‘That will

do nicely.’ She regarded Percy. ‘Though I am

still sorry I won’t see you die.’

‘I get that comment a lot,’ Percy said. ‘Now

about our ship –’

‘Still in one piece,’ said the goddess. ‘Not

in very good shape, but you should be able to

make it to Delos.’

‘Thank you,’ Jason said.

513/982

‘Yeah,’ Percy said. ‘And, really, your hus-

band Briares is a good dude. You should give

him a chance.’

The goddess picked up her bronze disc.

‘Don’t push your luck, brother. Briares has

fifty faces; all of them are ugly. He’s got a

hundred hands, and he’s still all thumbs

around the house.’

‘Okay,’ Percy relented. ‘Not pushing my

luck.’

Kym turned over the disc, revealing straps

on the bottom side like a shield. She slipped

it over her shoulders, Captain America style.

‘I will be watching your progress. Polybotes

was not boasting when he warned that your

blood would awaken the Earth Mother. The

giants are very confident of this.’

‘My blood, personally?’ Percy asked.

Kym’s smile was even creepier than usual.

‘I am not an Oracle. But I heard what the

seer Phineas told you in the city of Portland.

514/982

You will face a sacrifice that you may not be

able to make, and it will cost you the world.

You have yet to face your fatal flaw, my

brother. Look around. All works of gods and

men eventually turn to ruins. Would it not be

easier to flee into the depths with that girl-

friend of yours?’

Percy put his hand on Jason’s shoulder

and struggled to his feet. ‘Juno offered me a

choice like that, back when I found Camp

Jupiter. I’ll give you the same answer. I don’t

run when my friends need me.’

Kym turned up her palms. ‘And there is

your flaw: being unable to step away. I will

retreat to the depths and watch this battle

unfold. You should know that the forces of

the ocean are also at war. Your friend Hazel

Levesque made quite an impression on the

merpeople and on their mentors, Aphros and

Bythos.’

515/982

‘The fish pony dudes,’ Percy muttered.

‘They didn’t want to meet me.’

‘Even now they are waging war for your

sake,’ Kym said, ‘trying to keep Gaia’s allies

away from Long Island. Whether or not they

will survive … that remains to be seen. As for

you, Jason Grace, your path will be no easier

than your friend’s. You will be tricked. You

will face unbearable sorrow.’

Jason tried to keep from sparking. He

wasn’t sure Percy’s heart could take the

shock. ‘Kym, you said you’re not an Oracle?

They should give you the job. You’re defin-

itely depressing enough.’

The goddess let loose her dolphin laugh.

‘You amuse me, son of Jupiter. I hope you

live to defeat Gaia.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Any pointers on defeat-

ing a goddess who can’t be defeated?’

Kymopoleia tilted her head. ‘Oh, but you

know the answer. You are a child of the sky,

516/982

with storms in your blood. A primordial god

has been defeated once before. You know of

whom I speak.’

Jason’s insides started swirling faster than

the ventus. ‘Ouranos, the first god of the sky.

But that means –’

‘Yes.’ Kym’s alien features took on an ex-

pression that almost resembled sympathy.

‘Let us hope it does not come to that. If Gaia

does wake … well, your task will not be easy.

But, if you win, remember your promise,

Pontifex.’

Jason took a moment to process her

words. ‘I’m not a priest.’

‘No?’ Kym’s white eyes gleamed. ‘By the

way, your ventus servant says he wishes to be freed. Since he has helped you, he hopes

you will let him go when you reach the sur-

face. He promises he will not bother you a

third time.’

‘A third time?’

517/982

Kym paused, as if listening. ‘He says he

joined the storm above to take revenge on

you, but had he known how strong you’ve be-

come since the Grand Canyon he never

would’ve approached your ship.’

‘The Grand Canyon …’ Jason recalled that

day on the Skywalk, when one of his jerk

classmates turned out to be a wind spirit.

‘Dylan? Are you kidding me? I’m breathing

Dylan?’

‘Yes,’ Kym said. ‘That seems to be his

name.’

Jason shuddered. ‘I’ll let him go as soon as

I reach the surface. No worries.’

‘Farewell, then,’ said the goddess. ‘And

may the Fates smile upon you … assuming

the Fates survive.’

They needed to leave.

518/982

Jason was running out of air (Dylan air –

gross) and everyone on the Argo II would be worried about them.

But Percy was still woozy from the poison,

so they sat on the edge of the ruined golden

dome for a few minutes to let Percy catch his

breath … or catch his water, whatever a son

of Poseidon catches when he’s at the bottom

of the ocean.

‘Thanks, man,’ Percy said. ‘You saved my

life.’

‘Hey, that’s what we do for our friends.’

‘But, uh, the Jupiter guy saving the Pos-

eidon guy at the bottom of the ocean …

maybe we can keep the details to ourselves?

Otherwise I’ll never hear the end of it.’

Jason grinned. ‘You got it. How you

feeling?’

‘Better. I … I have to admit, when I was

choking on that poison, I kept thinking about

Akhlys, the misery goddess in Tartarus. I

519/982

almost destroyed her with poison.’ He

shivered. ‘It felt good, but in a bad way. If Annabeth hadn’t stopped me –’

‘But she did,’ Jason said. ‘That’s another

thing friends have to do for each other.’

‘Yeah … Thing is, as I was choking just

now, I kept thinking: this is payback for

Akhlys. The Fates are letting me die the same

way I tried to kill that goddess. And … hon-

estly, a part of me felt I deserved it. That’s

why I didn’t try to control the giant’s poison

and move it away from me. That probably

sounds crazy.’

Jason thought back to Ithaca, when he was

despairing over the visit from his mom’s

spirit. ‘No. I think I get it.’

Percy studied his face. When Jason didn’t

say any more, Percy changed the subject.

‘What did Kym mean about defeating Gaia?

You mentioned Ouranos …’

520/982

Jason stared at the silt swirling between

the columns of the old palace. ‘The sky god …

the Titans defeated him by calling him down to the earth. They got him away from his

home territory, ambushed him, held him

down and cut him up.’

Percy looked like his nausea was coming

back. ‘How would we do that with Gaia?’

Jason recalled a line from the prophecy:

To storm or fire the world must fall. He had an idea what that meant now … but, if he was

right, Percy wouldn’t be able to help. In fact,

he might unintentionally make things

harder.

I don’t run when my friends need me,

Percy had said.

And there is your flaw, Kym had warned,

being unable to step away.

Today was 27 July. In five days, Jason

would know if he was right.

521/982

‘Let’s get to Delos first,’ he said. ‘Apollo

and Artemis might have some advice.’

Percy nodded, though he didn’t seem sat-

isfied with that answer. ‘Why did Kymo-

poleia call you a Pontiac?’

Jason’s laugh literally cleared the air.

‘ Pontifex. It means priest.’

‘Oh.’ Percy frowned. ‘Still sounds like a

kind of car. “The new Pontifex XLS.” Will

you have to wear a collar and bless people?’

‘Nah. Romans used to have a Pontifex

Maximus, who oversaw all the proper sacri-

fices and whatnot, to make sure none of the

gods got mad. Which I offered to do … I

guess it does sound like a pontifex’s job.’

‘So you meant it?’ Percy asked. ‘You’re

really going to try building shrines for all the

minor gods?’

‘Yeah. I never really thought about it be-

fore, but I like the idea of going back and

forth between the two camps – assuming,

522/982

you know, we make it through next week and

the two camps still exist. What you did last

year on Olympus, turning down immortality

and asking the gods to play nice instead –

that was noble, man.’

Percy grunted. ‘Believe me, some days I re-

gret the choice. Oh, you want to turn down

our offer? Okay, fine! ZAP! Lose your

memory! Go to Tartarus! ’

‘You did what a hero should do. I admire

you for that. The least I can do, if we survive,

is continue that work – make sure all the

gods get some recognition. Who knows? If

the gods get along better, maybe we can stop

more of these wars from breaking out.’

‘That would most definitely be good,’ Percy

agreed. ‘You know, you look different … bet-

ter different. Does your wound still hurt?’

‘My wound …’ Jason had been so busy

with the giant and the goddess, he’d forgot-

ten about the sword wound in his gut, even

523/982

though he’d been dying from it in sickbay

only an hour ago.

He lifted his shirt and pulled away the

bandages. No smoke. No bleeding. No scar.

No pain.

‘It’s … gone,’ he said, stunned. ‘I feel com-

pletely normal. What the heck?’

‘You beat it, man!’ Percy laughed. ‘You

found your own cure.’

Jason considered that. He guessed it must

be true. Maybe putting aside his pain to help

his friends had done the trick.

Or maybe his decision to honour the gods

at both camps had healed him, giving him a

clear path to the future. Roman or Greek …

the difference didn’t matter. Like he’d told

the ghosts at Ithaca, his family had just got

bigger. Now he saw his place in it. He would

keep his promise to the storm goddess. And

because of that, Michael Varus’s sword

meant nothing.

524/982

Die a Roman.

No. If he had to die, he would die a son of

Jupiter, a child of the gods – the blood of

Olympus. But he wasn’t about to let himself

get sacrificed – at least not without a fight.

‘Come on.’ Jason clapped his friend on the

back. ‘Let’s go check on our ship.’

X X I X

Nico

GIVEN A CHOICE between death and the

Buford Zippy Mart, Nico would’ve had a

tough time deciding. At least he knew his

way around the Land of the Dead. Plus the

food was fresher.

‘I still don’t get it,’ Coach Hedge muttered

as they roamed the centre aisle. ‘They named

a whole town after Leo’s table?’

‘I think the town was here first, Coach,’

Nico said.

‘Huh.’ The coach picked up a box of

powdered doughnuts. ‘Maybe you’re right.

527/982

These look at least a hundred years old. I

miss those Portuguese farturas.’

Nico couldn’t think about Portugal without

his arms hurting. Across his biceps, the

werewolf claw marks were still swollen and

red. The store clerk had asked Nico if he’d

picked a fight with a bobcat.

They bought a first-aid kit, a pad of paper

(so Coach Hedge could write more paper

aeroplane messages to his wife), some junk

food and soda (since the banquet table in

Reyna’s new magic tent only provided

healthy food and fresh water) and some mis-

cellaneous camping supplies for Coach

Hedge’s useless but impressively complic-

ated monster traps.

Nico had been hoping to find some fresh

clothes. Two days since they’d fled San Juan,

he was tired of walking around in his tropical

ISLA DEll ENCANTORICO shirt, especially since

Coach Hedge had a matching one.

528/982

Unfortunately, the Zippy Mart only carried

T-shirts with Confederate flags and corny

sayings like KEEP CALM AND FOLLOW THE

REDNECK. Nico decided he’d stick with parrots

and palm trees.

They walked back to the campsite down a

two-lane road under the blazing sun. This

part of South Carolina seemed to consist

mostly of overgrown fields, punctuated by

telephone poles and trees covered in kudzu

vines. The town of Buford itself was a collec-

tion of portable metal sheds – six or seven,

which was probably also the town’s

population.

Nico wasn’t exactly a sunshine person, but

for once he welcomed the warmth. It made

him feel more substantial – anchored to the

mortal world. With every shadow-jump,

coming back got harder and harder. Even in

broad daylight his hand passed through solid

objects. His belt and sword kept falling

529/982

around his ankles for no apparent reason.

Once, when he wasn’t looking where he was

going, he walked straight through a tree.

Nico remembered something Jason Grace

had told him in the palace of Notus: Maybe

it’s time you come out of the shadows.

If only I could, he thought. For the first

time in his life, he had begun to fear the

dark, because he might melt into it

permanently.

Nico and Hedge had no trouble finding

their way back to camp. The Athena

Parthenos was the tallest landmark for miles

around. In its new camouflage netting, it

glittered silver like an extremely flashy forty-

foot-tall ghost.

Apparently, the Athena Parthenos had

wanted them to visit a place with educational

value, because she’d landed right next to a

historical marker that read MASSACRE OF

530/982

BUFORD, on a gravel layby at the intersection

of Nowhere and Nothing.

Reyna’s tent sat in a grove of trees about

thirty yards back from the road. Nearby lay a

rectangular cairn – hundreds of stones piled

in the shape of an oversized grave with a

granite obelisk for a headstone. Scattered

around it were faded wreathes and crushed

bouquets of plastic flowers, which made the

place seem even sadder.

Aurum and Argentum were playing keep-

away in the woods with one of the coach’s

handballs. Ever since getting repaired by the

Amazons, the metal dogs had been frisky and

full of energy – unlike their owner.

Reyna sat cross-legged at the entrance of

the tent, staring at the memorial obelisk. She

hadn’t said much since they fled San Juan

two days ago. They’d also not encountered

any monsters, which made Nico uneasy.

They’d had no further word from the

531/982

Hunters or the Amazons. They didn’t know

what had happened to Hylla, or Thalia, or

the giant Orion.

Nico didn’t like the Hunters of Artemis.

Tragedy followed them as surely as their

dogs and birds of prey. His sister Bianca had

died after joining the Hunters. Then Thalia

Grace became their leader and started re-

cruiting even more young women to their

cause, which grated on Nico – as if Bianca’s

death could be forgotten. As if she could be

replaced.

When Nico had woken up at Barrachina

and found the Hunters’ note about kidnap-

ping Reyna, he’d torn apart the courtyard in

rage. He didn’t want the Hunters stealing an-

other important person from him.

Fortunately, he’d got Reyna back, but he

didn’t like how brooding she had become.

Every time he tried to ask her about the in-

cident on the Calle San Jose – those ghosts

532/982

on the balcony, all staring at her, whispering

accusations – Reyna shut him down.

Nico knew something about ghosts. Let-

ting them get inside your head was danger-

ous. He wanted to help Reyna, but since his

own strategy was to deal with his problems

alone, spurning anyone who tried to get

close, he couldn’t exactly criticize Reyna for

doing the same thing.

She glanced up as they approached. ‘I

figured it out.’

‘What historical site this is?’ Hedge asked.

‘Good, ’cause it’s been driving me crazy.’

‘The Battle of Waxhaws,’ she said.

‘Ah, right …’ Hedge nodded sagely. ‘That

was a vicious little smackdown.’

Nico tried to sense any restless spirits in

the area, but he felt nothing. Unusual for a

battleground. ‘Are you sure?’

‘In 1780,’ Reyna said. ‘The American Re-

volution. Most of the Colonial leaders were

533/982

Greek demigods. The British generals were

Roman demigods.’

‘Because England was like Rome back

then,’ Nico guessed. ‘A rising empire.’

Reyna picked up a crushed bouquet. ‘I

think I know why we landed here. It’s my

fault.’

‘Ah, come on,’ Hedge scoffed. ‘The Buford

Zippy Mart isn’t anybody’s fault. Those

things just happen.’

Reyna picked at the faded plastic flowers.

‘During the Revolution, four hundred Amer-

icans got overtaken here by British cavalry.

The Colonial troops tried to surrender, but

the British were out for blood. They mas-

sacred the Americans even after they threw

down their weapons. Only a few survived.’

Nico supposed he should have been

shocked. But after travelling through the

Underworld, hearing so many stories of evil

and death, a wartime massacre hardly

534/982

seemed newsworthy. ‘Reyna, how is that

your fault?’

‘The British commander was Banastre

Tarleton.’

Hedge snorted. ‘I’ve heard of him. Crazy

dude. They called him Benny the Butcher.’

‘Yes …’ Reyna took a shaky breath. ‘He was

a son of Bellona.’

‘Oh.’ Nico stared at the oversized grave. It

still bothered him that he couldn’t sense any

spirits. Hundreds of soldiers massacred at

this spot … that should’ve sent out some kind of death vibe.

He sat next to Reyna and decided to take a

risk. ‘So you think we were drawn here be-

cause you have some sort of connection to

the ghosts. Like what happened in San

Juan?’

For a count of ten she said nothing, turn-

ing the plastic bouquet in her hand. ‘I don’t

want to talk about San Juan.’

535/982

‘You should.’ Nico felt like a stranger in his

own body. Why was he encouraging Reyna to

share? It wasn’t his style or his business.

Nevertheless, he kept talking. ‘The main

thing about ghosts – most of them have lost

their voices. In Asphodel, millions of them

wander around aimlessly, trying to remem-

ber who they were. You know why they end

up like that? Because in life they never took a

stand one way or another. They never spoke

out, so they were never heard. Your voice is

your identity. If you don’t use it,’ he said with

a shrug, ‘you’re halfway to Asphodel already.’

Reyna scowled. ‘Is that your idea of a pep

talk?’

Coach Hedge cleared his throat. ‘This is

getting too psychological for me. I’m going to

write some letters.’

He took his notepad and headed into the

woods. The last day or so, he’d been writing a

lot – apparently not just to Mellie. The coach

536/982

wouldn’t share details, but he hinted that he

was calling in some favours to help with the

quest. For all Nico knew, he was writing to

Jackie Chan.

Nico opened his shopping bag. He pulled

out a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme

Pies and offered one to Reyna.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Those look like

they went stale in dinosaur times.’

‘Maybe. But I’ve got a big appetite these

days. Any kind of food tastes good … except maybe pomegranate seeds. I’m done with

those.’

Reyna picked out a creme pie and took a

bite. ‘The ghosts in San Juan … they were my

ancestors.’

Nico waited. The breeze ruffled the cam-

ouflage netting over the Athena Parthenos.

‘The Ramírez-Arellano family goes back a

long way,’ Reyna continued. ‘I don’t know

the whole story. My ancestors lived in Spain

537/982

when it was a Roman province. My

great-great-something-something-grand-

father was a conquistador. He came over to

Puerto Rico with Ponce de León.’

‘One of the ghosts on the balcony was

wearing conquistador armour,’ Nico recalled.

‘That’s him.’

‘So … is your whole family descended from

Bellona? I thought you and Hylla were her

daughters, not legacies.’

Too late, Nico realized he shouldn’t have

brought up Hylla. A look of despair passed

over Reyna’s face, though she managed to

hide it quickly.

‘We are her daughters,’ Reyna said. ‘We’re the first actual children of Bellona in the

Ramírez-Arellano family. And Bellona has

always favoured our clan. Millennia ago, she

decreed that we would play pivotal roles in

many battles.’

‘Like you’re doing now,’ Nico said.

538/982

Reyna brushed crumbs from her chin.

‘Perhaps. Some of my ancestors have been

heroes. Some have been villains. You saw the

ghost with the gunshot wounds in the chest?’

Nico nodded. ‘A pirate?’

‘The most famous in Puerto Rican history.

He was known as the Pirate Cofresí, but his

family name was Ramírez de Arellano. Our

house, the family villa, was built with money

from treasure that he buried.’

For a moment, Nico felt like a little kid

again. He was tempted to blurt out, That’s so

cool! Even before he got into Mythomagic,

he’d been obsessed with pirates. Probably

that was one reason he’d been so smitten

with Percy, a son of the sea god.

‘And the other ghosts?’ he asked.

Reyna took another bite of creme pie. ‘The

guy in the U.S. Navy uniform … he’s my

great-great-uncle from World War Two, the

first Latino submarine commander. You get

539/982

the idea. A lot of warriors. Bellona was our

patron goddess for generations.’

‘But she never had demigod children in

your family – until you.’

‘The goddess … she fell in love with my

father, Julian. He was a soldier in Iraq. He

was –’ Reyna’s voice broke. She tossed aside

the plastic bouquet of flowers. ‘I can’t do

this. I can’t talk about him.’

A cloud passed overhead, blanketing the

woods in shadows.

Nico didn’t want to push Reyna. What

right did he have?

He set down his oatmeal creme pie … and

noticed that his fingertips were turning to

smoke. The sunlight returned. His hands be-

came solid again, but Nico’s nerves jangled.

He felt as if he’d been pulled back from the

edge of a high balcony.

540/982

Your voice is your identity, he’d told

Reyna. If you don’t use it, you’re halfway to

Asphodel already.

He hated when his own advice applied to

himself.

‘My dad gave me a present once,’ Nico

said. ‘It was a zombie.’

Reyna stared at him. ‘What?’

‘His name is Jules-Albert. He’s French.’

‘A … French zombie?’

‘Hades isn’t the greatest dad, but occasion-

ally he has these want to know my son mo-

ments. I guess he thought the zombie was a

peace offering. He said Jules-Albert could be

my chauffeur.’

The corner of Reyna’s mouth twitched. ‘A

French zombie chauffeur.’

Nico realized how ridiculous it sounded.

He’d never told anyone about Jules-Albert –

not even Hazel. But he kept talking.

541/982

‘Hades had this idea that I should, you

know, try to act like a modern teenager.

Make friends. Get to know the twenty-first

century. He vaguely understood that mortal

parents drive their kids around a lot. He

couldn’t do that. So his solution was a

zombie.’

‘To take you to the mall,’ Reyna said. ‘Or

the drive-through at In-N-Out Burger.’

‘I suppose.’ Nico’s nerves began to settle.

‘Because nothing helps you make friends

faster than a rotting corpse with a French

accent.’

Reyna laughed. ‘I’m sorry … I shouldn’t

make fun.’

‘It’s okay. Point is … I don’t like talking

about my dad either. But sometimes,’ he

said, looking her in the eyes, ‘you have to.’

Reyna’s expression turned serious. ‘I never

knew my father in his better days. Hylla said

he used to be gentler when she was very

542/982

small, before I was born. He was a good sol-

dier – fearless, disciplined, cool under fire.

He was handsome. He could be very charm-

ing. Bellona blessed him, as she had with so

many of my ancestors, but that wasn’t

enough for my dad. He wanted her for his

wife.’

Over in the woods, Coach Hedge muttered

to himself as he wrote. Three paper aero-

planes were already spiralling upward in the

breeze, heading to gods knew where.

‘My father dedicated himself completely to

Bellona,’ Reyna continued. ‘It’s one thing to

respect the power of war. It’s another thing

to fall in love with it. I don’t know how he did

it, but he managed to win Bellona’s heart. My

sister was born just before he went to Iraq

for his last tour of duty. He was honourably

discharged, came home a hero. If … if he’d

been able to adjust to civilian life, everything

might have been all right.’

543/982

‘But he couldn’t,’ Nico guessed.

Reyna shook her head. ‘Shortly after he got

back, he had one last encounter with the

goddess … that’s the, um, reason I was born.

Bellona gave him a glimpse of the future. She

explained why our family was so important

to her. She said the legacy of Rome would

never fail as long as one of our bloodline re-

mained, fighting to defend our homeland.

Those words … I think she meant them to be

reassuring, but my father became fixated on

them.’

‘War can be hard to get over,’ Nico said,

remembering Pietro, one of his neighbours

from his childhood in Italy. Pietro had come

back from Mussolini’s African campaign in

one piece, but, after shelling Ethiopian civil-

ians with mustard gas, his mind was never

the same.

Despite the heat, Reyna drew her cloak

around her. ‘Part of the problem was post-

544/982

traumatic stress. He couldn’t stop thinking

about the war. And then there was the con-

stant pain – a roadside bomb had left

shrapnel in his shoulder and chest. But it

was more than that. Over the years, as I was

growing up, he … he changed.’

Nico didn’t respond. He’d never had any-

one talk to him this openly before, except

maybe for Hazel. He felt like he was watch-

ing a flock of birds settle on a field. One loud

sound might startle them away.

‘He became paranoid,’ Reyna said. ‘He

thought Bellona’s words were a warning that

our bloodline would be exterminated and the

legacy of Rome would fail. He saw enemies

everywhere. He collected weapons. He

turned our house into a fortress. At night, he

would lock Hylla and me in our rooms. If we

sneaked out, he would yell at us and throw

furniture and … well, he terrified us. At

times, he even thought we were the enemies.

545/982

He became convinced we were spying on

him, trying to undermine him. Then the

ghosts started appearing. I guess they’d al-

ways been there, but they picked up on my

father’s agitation and began to manifest.

They whispered to him, feeding his suspi-

cions. Finally one day … I can’t tell you for

sure when, I realized he had ceased to be my

father. He had become one of the ghosts.’

A cold tide rose in Nico’s chest. ‘A mania,’

he speculated. ‘I’ve seen it before. A human

withers away until he’s not human any more.

Only his worst qualities remain. His insanity

…’

It was clear from Reyna’s expression that

his explanation wasn’t helping.

‘Whatever he was,’ Reyna said, ‘he became

impossible to live with. Hylla and I escaped

the house as often as we could, but eventu-

ally we’d come … back … and face his rage.

We didn’t know what else to do. He was our

546/982

only family. The last time we returned, he –

he was so angry he was literally glowing. He

couldn’t physically touch things any more,

but he could move them … like a poltergeist,

I guess. He tore up the floor tiles. He ripped

open the sofa. Finally he tossed a chair and it

hit Hylla. She collapsed. She was only

knocked unconscious, but I thought she was

dead. She’d spent so many years protecting

me … I just lost it. I grabbed the nearest

weapon I could find – a family heirloom, the

Pirate Confresí’s sabre. I – I didn’t know it

was Imperial gold. I ran at my father’s spirit

and …’

‘You vaporized him,’ Nico guessed.

Reyna’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘I killed

my own father.’

‘No. Reyna, no. That wasn’t him. That was

a ghost. Even worse: a mania. You were protecting your sister.’

547/982

She twisted the silver ring on her finger.

‘You don’t understand. Patricide is the worst

crime a Roman can commit. It’s

unforgivable.’

‘You didn’t kill your father. The man was

already dead,’ Nico insisted. ‘You dispelled a

ghost.’

‘It doesn’t matter!’ Reyna sobbed. ‘If word

of this got out at Camp Jupiter –’

‘You’d be executed,’ said a new voice.

At the edge of the woods stood a Roman

legionnaire in full armour, holding a pilum.

A mop of brown hair hung in his eyes. His

nose had obviously been broken at least

once, which made his smile look even more

sinister. ‘Thank you for your confession,

former praetor. You’ve made my job much

easier.’

X X X

Nico

COACH HEDGE CHOSE THAT MOMENT to burst

into the clearing, waving a paper aeroplane

and yelling, ‘Good news, everyone!’

He froze when he saw the Roman. ‘Oh …

never mind.’

He quickly crumpled the aeroplane and

ate it.

Reyna and Nico got to their feet. Aurum

and Argentum scampered to Reyna’s side

and growled at the intruder.

How this guy had got so close with none of them noticing, Nico didn’t understand.

550/982

‘Bryce Lawrence,’ Reyna said. ‘Octavian’s

newest attack dog.’

The Roman inclined his head. His eyes

were green, but not sea green like Percy’s …

more like pond-scum green.

‘The augur has many attack dogs,’ Bryce

said. ‘I’m just the lucky one who found you.

Your Graecus friend here –’ he pointed his chin at Nico – ‘he was easy to track. He

stinks of the Underworld.’

Nico unsheathed his sword. ‘You know the

Underworld? Would you like me to arrange a

visit?’

Bryce laughed. His front teeth were two

different shades of yellow. ‘Do you think you

can frighten me? I’m a descendant of Orcus,

the god of broken vows and eternal punish-

ment. I’ve heard the screams in the Fields of

Punishment firsthand. They’re music to my

ears. Soon, I’ll be adding one more damned

soul to the chorus.’

551/982

He grinned at Reyna. ‘Patricide, eh?

Octavian will love this news. You are under

arrest for multiple violations of Roman law.’

‘You being here is against Roman law,’

Reyna said. ‘Romans don’t quest alone. A

mission has to be led by someone of centuri-

on rank or higher. You’re in probatio, and

even giving you that rank was a mistake. You have no right to arrest me.’

Bryce shrugged. ‘In times of war, some

rules have to be flexible. But don’t worry.

Once I bring you in for trial, I’ll be rewarded

with full membership in the legion. I imagine

I’ll be promoted to centurion, too. Doubtless

there will be vacancies after the coming

battle. Some officers won’t survive, especially

if their loyalties aren’t in the right place.’

Coach Hedge hefted his bat. ‘I don’t know

the proper Roman etiquette, but can I bash

this kid now?’

552/982

‘A faun,’ Bryce said. ‘Interesting. I heard

the Greeks actually trusted their goat men.’

Hedge bleated. ‘I’m a satyr. And you can

trust I’m going to put this bat upside your

head, you little punk.’

The coach advanced, but, as soon as his

foot touched the cairn, the stones rumbled

like they were coming to the boil. Out of the

grave site, skeletal warriors erupted – spar-

toi in the tattered remains of British redcoat uniforms.

Hedge scrambled away, but the first two

skeletons grabbed his arms and lifted him off

the ground. The coach dropped his bat and

kicked his hooves.

‘Lemme go, ya stupid boneheads!’ he

bellowed.

Nico watched, paralysed, as the grave

spewed forth more dead British soldiers –

five, ten, twenty, multiplying so quickly that

553/982

Reyna and her metal dogs were surrounded

before Nico even thought to raise his sword.

How could he not have sensed so many

dead, so close at hand?

‘I forgot to mention,’ Bryce said, ‘I’m actu-

ally not alone on this quest. As you can see, I

have backup. These redcoats promised

quarter to the colonials. Then they butchered

them. Personally, I like a good massacre, but,

because they broke their oaths, their spirits

were damned and they are perpetually under

the power of Orcus. Which means they are

also under my control.’ He pointed to Reyna.

‘Seize the girl.’

The spartoi surged forward. Aurum and

Argentum took down the first few, but they

were quickly wrestled to the ground, skeletal

hands clamped over their muzzles. The red-

coats grabbed Reyna’s arms. For undead

creatures, they were surprisingly quick.

554/982

Finally, Nico came to his senses. He

slashed at the spartoi, but his sword passed harmlessly through them. He exerted his

will, ordering the skeletons to dissolve. They

acted as if he didn’t exist.

‘What’s wrong, son of Hades?’ Bryce’s

voice was filled with fake sympathy. ‘Losing

your grip?’

Nico tried to push his way through the

skeletons. There were too many. Bryce,

Reyna and Coach Hedge might as well have

been behind a metal wall.

‘Nico, get out of here!’ Reyna said. ‘Get to

the statue and leave.’

‘Yes, off you go!’ Bryce agreed. ‘Of course,

you realize that your next shadow-jump will

be your last. You know you don’t have the

strength to survive another. But, by all

means, take the Athena Parthenos.’

Nico glanced down. He still held his Stygi-

an sword, but his hands were dark and

555/982

transparent like smoky glass. Even in the

direct sunlight, he was dissolving.

‘Stop this!’ he said.

‘Oh, I’m not doing a thing,’ Bryce said. ‘But

I am curious to see what will happen. If you

take the statue, you’ll disappear with it

forever, right into oblivion. If you don’t take it … well, I have orders to bring Reyna in

alive to stand trial for treason. I have no or-

ders to bring you in alive, or the faun.’

‘Satyr!’ the coach yelled. He kicked a skel-

eton in its bony crotch, which seemed to hurt

Hedge more than the redcoat. ‘Ow! Stupid

British dead guys!’

Bryce lowered his javelin and poked the

coach in the belly. ‘I wonder what this one’s

pain tolerance would be. I’ve experimented

on all kinds of animals. I even killed my own

centurion once. I’ve never tried a faun … ex-

cuse me, a satyr. You reincarnate, don’t you?

556/982

How much pain can you take before you turn

into a patch of daisies?’

Nico’s anger turned as cold and dark as his

blade. He’d been morphed into a few plants

himself, and he didn’t appreciate it. He hated

people like Bryce Lawrence, who inflicted

pain just for fun.

‘Leave him alone,’ Nico warned.

Bryce raised an eyebrow. ‘Or what? By all

means, try something Underworldy, Nico. I’d

love to see it. I have a feeling anything major

will make you fade out permanently. Go

ahead.’

Reyna struggled. ‘Bryce, forget about

them. If you want me as your prisoner, fine.

I’ll go willingly and face Octavian’s stupid

trial.’

‘A fine offer.’ Bryce turned his javelin, let-

ting the tip hover a few inches from Reyna’s

eyes. ‘You really don’t know what Octavian

557/982

has planned, do you? He’s been busy pulling

in favours, spending the legion’s money.’

Reyna clenched her fists. ‘Octavian has no

right –’

‘He has the right of power,’ Bryce said.

‘You forfeited your authority when you ran

off to the ancient lands. On August first, your

Greek friends at Camp Half-Blood will find

out what a powerful enemy Octavian is. I’ve

seen the designs for his machines … Even I’m

impressed.’

Nico’s bones felt like they were changing

into helium, the way they’d felt when the god

Favonius turned him into a breeze.

Then he locked eyes with Reyna. Her

strength surged through him – a wave of

courage and resilience that made him feel

substantial again, anchored to the mortal

world. Even surrounded by the dead and fa-

cing execution, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano had

a huge reservoir of bravery to share.

558/982

‘Nico,’ she said, ‘do what you need to do.

I’ve got your back.’

Bryce chuckled, clearly enjoying himself.

‘Oh, Reyna. You’ve got his back? It’s going to be so fun dragging you before a tribunal, forcing you to confess that you killed your fath-

er. I hope they’ll execute you in the ancient

way – sewn into a sack with a rabid dog, then

thrown into a river. I’ve always wanted to see

that. I can’t wait until your little secret comes

out.’

Until your little secret comes out.

Bryce flicked the point of his pilum across Reyna’s face, leaving a line of blood.

And Nico’s rage exploded.

X X X I

Nico

LATER, THEY TOLD HIM WHAT HAPPENED. All

he remembered was the screaming.

According to Reyna, the air around him

dropped to freezing. The ground blackened.

In one horrible cry, he unleashed a flood of

pain and anger on everyone in the clearing.

Reyna and the coach experienced his journey

through Tartarus, his capture by the giants,

his days wasting away inside that bronze jar.

They felt Nico’s anguish from his days on the

Argo II and his encounter with Cupid in the ruins of Salona.

561/982

They heard his unspoken challenge to

Bryce Lawrence, loud and clear: You want

secrets? Here.

The spartoi disintegrated into ashes. The

rocks of the cairn turned white with frost.

Bryce Lawrence stumbled, clutching his

head, both nostrils bleeding.

Nico marched towards him. He grabbed

Bryce’s probatio tablet and ripped it off his neck.

‘You aren’t worthy of this,’ Nico growled.

The earth split under Bryce’s feet. He sank

up to his waist. ‘Stop!’ Bryce clawed at the

ground and the plastic bouquets, but his

body kept sinking.

‘You took an oath to the legion.’ Nico’s

breath steamed in the cold. ‘You broke its

rules. You inflicted pain. You killed your own

centurion.’

‘I – I didn’t! I –’

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‘You should’ve died for your crimes,’ Nico

continued. ‘That was the punishment. In-

stead you got exile. You should have stayed

away. Your father Orcus may not approve of

broken oaths. But my father Hades really

doesn’t approve of those who escape

punishment.’

‘Please!’

That word didn’t make sense to Nico. The

Underworld had no mercy. It only had

justice.

‘You’re already dead,’ Nico said. ‘You’re a

ghost with no tongue, no memory. You won’t

be sharing any secrets.’

‘No!’ Bryce’s body turned dark and smoky.

He slipped into the earth, up to his chest.

‘No, I am Bryce Lawrence! I’m alive!’

‘Who are you?’ Nico asked.

The next sound from Bryce’s mouth was a

chattering whisper. His face became

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indistinct. He could have been anyone – just

another nameless spirit among millions.

‘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 al-

most 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 din-

ing 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

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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 cof-

fee. She perched on the couch of the Big

House’s living room. Propped next to her

was the magical stuffed leopard head Sey-

mour. 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

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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 god-

dess 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.

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He was flat on his back, staring at the sun-

light 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 real-

ized 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

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arms, legs and chest were itchy from the dry-

ing 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 –’

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‘You’ll have some Gatorade,’ the coach

insisted.

Nico had some Gatorade. He was sur-

prised 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.’

X X X I I

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.’

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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 uncon-

scious 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. Ac-

cording 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 perman-

ently. ‘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.’

572/982

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 re-

minded me of what happened to my father.’

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‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ Nico said bit-

terly. ‘I didn’t mean to … to poison another

friendship. I’m sorry.’

Reyna studied his face. ‘Nico, I have to ad-

mit, 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.

574/982

‘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.’

575/982

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 con-

cerned. 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.’

576/982

Reyna nodded. ‘We’ve seen no sign of oth-

er 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,

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Nuggets – she and Mellie go way back. Any-

way … 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 cav-

alry 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.

578/982

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.’

X X X I I I

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.

581/982

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 en-

grossed 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 mon-

ster 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

582/982

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 win-

dows 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” sec-

tion 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

583/982

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 ac-

ted. Or maybe upbeat wasn’t the right word.

They seemed to be pulling together for the fi-

nall 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 …

584/982

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.

585/982

‘If Leo has an idea,’ he said, ‘we need to

trust him.’

Leo felt guilty about that, especially con-

sidering what his idea was, but he mustered

a smile. ‘Thanks, man.’

Percy shrugged. ‘Okay. But a word of ad-

vice: 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

586/982

after the fiasco at Fort Sumter Leo had be-

come a conscientious objector to riding giant

eagles. He had a one hundred percent failure

rate.

They found the island deserted, maybe be-

cause the seas were too choppy for the tour-

ist 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 im-

pressive, but, ever since Olympia, Leo had

been on ancient ruins overload. He was so

done with white marble columns. He wanted

to get 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.

587/982

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

588/982

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 melan-

choly 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.

589/982

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 pis-

tons. 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?’

590/982

‘You know they can’t, brother,’ Artemis

chided. ‘They require our help with their

quest, even if the odds are hopeless.’

‘You two are full of good cheer,’ Leo said.

‘Why are you hiding out here anyway?

Shouldn’t you be … I dunno, fighting giants

or something?’

Artemis’s pale eyes made Leo feel like he

was a deer carcass about to be gutted.

‘Delos is our birthplace,’ said the goddess.

‘Here, we are unaffected by the Greek–Ro-

man schism. Believe me, Leo Valdez, if I

could, I would be with my Hunters, facing

our old enemy Orion. Unfortunately, if I

stepped off this island, I would become inca-

pacitated with pain. All I can do is watch

helplessly while Orion slaughters my follow-

ers. Many gave their lives to protect your

friends and that accursed Athena statue.’

Hazel made a strangled sound. ‘You mean

Nico? Is he all right?’

591/982

‘ All right? ’ Apollo sobbed over his ukulele.

‘ None of us are all right, girl! Gaia is rising!’

Artemis glared at Apollo. ‘Hazel Levesque,

your brother is still alive. He is a brave fight-

er, like you. I wish I could say the same for

my brother.’

‘You wrong me!’ Apollo wailed. ‘I was

misled by Gaia and that horrible Roman

child!’

Frank cleared his throat. ‘Uh, Lord Apollo,

you mean Octavian?’

‘Do not speak his name!’ Apollo strummed

a minor chord. ‘Oh, Frank Zhang, if only you

were my child. I heard your prayers, you

know, all those weeks you wanted to be

claimed. But alas! Mars gets all the good

ones. I get … that creature as my descend-

ant. He filled my head with compliments. He

told me of the great temples he would build

in my honour.’

592/982

Artemis snorted. ‘You are easily flattered,

brother.’

‘Because I have so many amazing qualities

to praise! Octavian said he wanted to make

the Romans strong again. I said fine! I gave

him my blessing.’

‘As I recall,’ said Artemis, ‘he also prom-

ised to make you the most important god of

the legion, above even Zeus.’

‘Well, who was I to argue with an offer like

that? Does Zeus have a perfect tan? Can he

play the ukulele? I think not! But I never

thought Octavian would start a war! Gaia

must have been clouding my thoughts, whis-

pering in my ear.’

Leo remembered the crazy wind dude Ae-

olus, who’d gone homicidal after hearing

Gaia’s voice.

‘So fix it,’ he said. ‘Tell Octavian to stand

down. Or, you know, shoot him with one of

your arrows. That would be fine, too.’

593/982

‘I cannot!’ Apollo wailed. ‘Look!’

His ukulele turned into a bow. He aimed at

the sky and shot. The golden arrow sailed

about two hundred feet, then disintegrated

into smoke.

‘To shoot my bow, I would have to step off

Delos,’ Apollo cried. ‘Then I would be inca-

pacitated, or Zeus would strike me down.

Father never liked me. He hasn’t trusted me

for millennia!’

‘Well,’ Artemis said, ‘to be fair, there was

that time you conspired with Hera to over-

throw him.’

‘That was a misunderstanding!’

‘And you killed some of Zeus’s Cyclopes.’

‘I had a good reason for that! At any rate,

now Zeus blames me for everything –

Octavian’s schemes, the fall of Delphi –’

‘Wait.’ Hazel made a time-out sign. ‘The

fall of Delphi?’

594/982

Apollo’s bow turned back into a ukulele.

He plucked a dramatic chord. ‘When the

schism began between Greek and Roman,

while I struggled with confusion, Gaia took

advantage! She raised my old enemy Python,

the great serpent, to repossess the Delphic

Oracle. That horrible creature is now coiled

in the ancient caverns, blocking the magic of

prophecy. I am stuck here, so I can’t even

fight him.’

‘Bummer,’ Leo said, though secretly he

thought that no more prophecies might be a

good thing. His to-do list was already pretty

full.

‘Bummer indeed!’ Apollo sighed. ‘Zeus was

already angry with me for appointing that

new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus

seems to think I hastened the war with Gaia by doing so, since Rachel issued the

Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her.

But prophecy doesn’t work that way! Father

595/982

just needed someone to blame. So of course

he picked the handsomest, most talented,

hopelessly awesome god.’

Artemis made a gagging gesture.

‘Oh, stop it, sister!’ Apollo said. ‘You’re in

trouble, too!’

‘Only because I stayed in touch with my

Hunters against Zeus’s wishes,’ Artemis said.

‘But I can always charm Father into forgiving

me. He’s never been able to stay mad at me.

It’s you I’m worried about.’

‘I’m worried about me, too!’ Apollo agreed.

‘We have to do something. We can’t kill

Octavian. Hmm. Perhaps we should kill

these demigods.’

‘Whoa there, Music Man.’ Leo resisted the

urge to hide behind Frank and yell, Take the

big Canadian dude! ‘We’re on your side, re-

member? Why would you kill us?’

‘It might make me feel better!’ Apollo said.

‘I have to do something!’

596/982

‘Or,’ Leo said quickly, ‘you could help us.

See, we’ve got this plan …’

He told them how Hera had directed them

to Delos, and how Nike had described the in-

gredients for the physician’s cure.

‘The physician’s cure?’ Apollo stood and

smashed his ukulele on the stones. ‘That’s

your plan?’

Leo raised his hands. ‘Hey, um, usually I’m

all for smashing ukuleles, but –’

‘I cannot help you!’ Apollo cried. ‘If I told

you the secret of the physician’s cure, Zeus

would never forgive me!’

‘You’re already in trouble,’ Leo pointed

out. ‘How could it get worse?’

Apollo glared at him. ‘If you knew what my

father is capable of, mortal, you would not

ask. It would be simpler if I just smote you

all. That might please Zeus –’

‘Brother …’ Artemis said.

597/982

The twins locked eyes and had a silent ar-

gument. Apparently Artemis won. Apollo

heaved a sigh and kicked his broken ukulele

across the stage.

Artemis rose. ‘Hazel Levesque, Frank

Zhang, come with me. There are things you

should know about the Twelfth Legion. As

for you, Leo Valdez –’ The goddess turned

those cold silver eyes on him. ‘Apollo will

hear you out. See if you can strike a deal. My

brother always likes a good bargain.’

Frank and Hazel both glanced at him, like

Please don’t die. Then they followed Artemis up the steps of the amphitheatre and over

the crest of the hill.

‘Well, Leo Valdez?’ Apollo folded his arms.

His eyes glowed with golden light. ‘Let us

bargain, then. What can you offer that would

convince me to help you rather than kill

you?’

X X X I V

Leo

‘A BARGAIN.’ Leo fingers twitched. ‘Yeah.

Absolutely.’

His hands went to work before his mind

knew what he was doing. He started pulling

things out of the pockets of his magic tool

belt – copper wire, some bolts, a brass fun-

nel. For months he’d been stashing away bits

and pieces of machinery, because he never

knew what he might need. And the longer he

used the belt, the more intuitive it became.

He’d reach in and the right items would

simply appear.

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‘So the thing is,’ Leo said as his hands

twisted wire, ‘Zeus is already P.O.’ed at you,

right? If you help us defeat Gaia, you could

make it up to him.’

Apollo wrinkled his nose. ‘I suppose that’s

possible. But it would be easier to smite you.’

‘What kind of ballad would that make?’

Leo’s hands worked furiously, attaching

levers, fastening the metal funnel to an old

gear shaft. ‘You’re the god of music, right?

Would you listen to a song called “Apollo

Smites a Runty Little Demigod”? I wouldn’t.

But “Apollo Defeats the Earth Mother and

Saves the Freaking Universe” … that sounds like a Billboard chart-topper!’

Apollo gazed into the air, as if envisioning

his name on a marquee. ‘What do you want

exactly? And what do I get out of it?’

‘First thing I need: advice.’ Leo strung

some wires across the mouth of the funnel. ‘I

want to know if a plan of mine will work.’

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Leo explained what he had in mind. He’d

been chewing on the idea for days, ever since

Jason came back from the bottom of the sea

and Leo started talking with Nike.

A primordial god has been defeated once

before, Kymopoleia had told Jason. You

know of whom I speak.

Leo’s conversations with Nike had helped

him fine-tune the plan, but he still wanted a

second opinion from another god. Because,

once Leo committed himself, there would be

no going back.

He half hoped Apollo would laugh and tell

him to forget it.

Instead, the god nodded thoughtfully. ‘I

will give you this advice for free. You might

be able to defeat Gaia in the way you de-

scribe, similar to the way Ouranos was de-

feated aeons ago. However, any mortal close

by would be utterly …’ Apollo’s voice

faltered. ‘What is that you have made?’

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Leo looked down at the contraption in his

hands. Layers of copper wires, like multiple

sets of guitar strings, crisscrossed inside the

funnel. Rows of striking pins were controlled

by levers on the outside of the cone, which

was fixed to a square metal base with a

bunch of crank handles.

‘Oh, this … ?’ Leo’s mind raced furiously.

The thing looked like a music box fused with

an old-fashioned phonograph, but what was

it?

A bargaining chip.

Artemis had told him to make a deal with

Apollo.

Leo remembered a story the kids in Cabin

Eleven used to brag about: how their father,

Hermes, had avoided punishment for steal-

ing Apollo’s sacred cows. When Hermes got

caught, he made a musical instrument – the

first lyre – and traded it to Apollo, who im-

mediately forgave him.

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A few days ago, Piper mentioned seeing

the cave on Pylos where Hermes hid those

cows. That must’ve triggered Leo’s subcon-

scious. Without even meaning to, he’d built a

musical instrument, which kind of surprised

him, since he knew nothing about music.

‘Um, well,’ Leo said, ‘this is quite simply

the most amazing instrument ever!’

‘How does it work?’ asked the god.

Good question, Leo thought.

He turned the crank handles, hoping the

thing wouldn’t explode in his face. A few

clear tones rang out – metallic yet warm. Leo

manipulated the levers and gears. He recog-

nized the song that sprang forth – the same

wistful melody Calypso sang for him on Ogy-

gia about homesickness and longing. But,

through the strings of the brass cone, the

tune sounded even sadder, like a machine

with a broken heart – the way Festus might

sound if he could sing.

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Leo forgot Apollo was there. He played the

song all the way through. When he was done,

his eyes stung. He could almost smell the

fresh-baked bread from Calypso’s kitchen.

He could taste the only kiss she’d ever given

him.

Apollo stared in awe at the instrument. ‘I

must have it. What is it called? What do you

want for it?’

Leo had a sudden instinct to hide the in-

strument and keep it for himself. But he

swallowed his melancholy. He had a task to

complete.

Calypso … Calypso needed him to succeed.

‘This is the Valdezinator, of course!’ He

puffed out his chest. ‘It works by, um, trans-

lating your feelings into music as you manip-

ulate the gears. It’s really meant for me, a

child of Hephaestus, to use, though. I don’t

know if you could –’

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‘I am the god of music!’ Apollo cried. ‘I can

certainly master the Valdezinator. I must! It is my duty!’

‘So let’s wheel and deal, Music Man,’ Leo

said. ‘I give you this; you give me the physi-

cian’s cure.’

‘Oh …’ Apollo bit his godly lip. ‘Well, I

don’t actually have the physician’s cure.’

‘I thought you were the god of medicine.’

‘Yes, but I’m the god of many things! Po-

etry, music, the Delphic Oracle –’ He broke

into a sob and covered his mouth with his

fist. ‘Sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine. As I was saying,

I have many spheres of influence. Then, of

course, I have the whole “sun god” gig, which

I inherited from Helios. The point is, I’m

rather like a general practitioner. For the

physician’s cure, you would need to see a

specialist – the only one who has ever suc-

cessfully cured death: my son Asclepius, the

god of healers.’

606/982

Leo’s heart sank into his socks. The last

thing they needed was another quest to find

another god who would probably demand his

own commemorative T-shirt or Valdezinator.

‘That’s a shame, Apollo. I was hoping we

could make a deal.’ Leo turned the levers on

his Valdezinator, coaxing out an even sadder

tune.

‘Stop!’ Apollo wailed. ‘It’s too beautiful! I’ll

give you directions to Asclepius. He’s really

very close!’

‘How do we know he’ll help us? We’ve only

got two days until Gaia wakes.’

‘He’ll help!’ Apollo promised. ‘My son is

very helpful. Just plead with him in my

name. You’ll find him at his old temple in

Epidaurus.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘Ah … well, nothing. Except, of course, he’s

guarded.’

‘Guarded by what?’

607/982

‘I don’t know!’ Apollo spread his hands

helplessly. ‘I only know Zeus is keeping

Asclepius under guard so he doesn’t go run-

ning around the world resurrecting people.

The first time Asclepius raised the dead …

well, he caused quite an uproar. It’s a long

story. But I’m sure you can convince him to help.’

‘This isn’t sounding like much of a deal,’

Leo said. ‘What about the last ingredient –

the curse of Delos. What is it?’

Apollo eyed the Valdezinator greedily. Leo

worried the god might just take it, and how

could Leo stop him? Blasting the sun god

with fire probably wouldn’t do much good.

‘I can give the last ingredient to you,’

Apollo said. ‘Then you’ll have everything you

need for Asclepius to brew the potion.’

Leo played another verse. ‘I dunno. Trad-

ing this beautiful Valdezinator for some

Delos curse –’

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‘It’s not actually a curse! Look …’ Apollo

sprinted to the nearest patch of wildflowers

and picked a yellow one from a crack

between the stones. ‘ This is the curse of

Delos.’

Leo stared at it. ‘A cursed daisy?’

Apollo sighed in exasperation. ‘That’s just

a nickname. When my mother, Leto, was

ready to give birth to Artemis and me, Hera

was angry, because Zeus had cheated on her

again. So she went around to every single

landmass on earth. She made the nature

spirits in each place promise to turn my

mother away so she couldn’t give birth

anywhere.’

‘Sounds like something Hera would do.’

‘I know, right? Anyway, Hera exacted

promises from every land that was rooted on

the earth – but not from Delos, because back then Delos was a floating island. The nature

spirits of Delos welcomed my mother. She

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gave birth to my sister and me, and the is-

land was so happy to be our new sacred

home it covered itself in these little yellow

flowers. The flowers are a blessing, because

we’re awesome. But they also symbolize a

curse, because once we were born Delos got

rooted in place and wasn’t able to drift

around the sea any more. That’s why yellow

daisies are called the curse of Delos.’

‘So I could have just picked a daisy myself

and walked away.’

‘No, no! Not for the potion you have in

mind. The flower would have to be picked by

either my sister or me. So what do you say,

demigod? Directions to Asclepius and your

last magical ingredient in exchange for that

new musical instrument – do we have a

deal?’

Leo hated to give away a perfectly good

Valdezinator for a wildflower, but he saw no

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other choice. ‘You drive a hard bargain,

Music Man.’

They made the trade.

‘Excellent!’ Apollo turned the levers of the

Valdezinator, which made a sound like a car

engine on a cold morning. ‘Hmm … perhaps

it’ll take some practice, but I’ll get it! Now let

us find your friends. The sooner you leave,

the better!’

Hazel and Frank waited at the Delos docks.

Artemis was nowhere in sight.

When Leo turned to tell Apollo goodbye,

the god was gone, too.

‘Man,’ Leo muttered, ‘he was really

anxious to practice his Valdezinator.’

‘His what?’ Hazel asked.

Leo told them about his new hobby as a

genius inventor of musical funnels.

Frank scratched his head. ‘And in ex-

change you got a daisy?’

611/982

‘It’s the final ingredient to cure death,

Zhang. It’s a super daisy! How about you

guys? Learn anything from Artemis?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’ Hazel gazed across

the water, where the Argo II bobbed at an-

chor. ‘Artemis knows a lot about missile

weapons. She told us Octavian has ordered

some … surprises for Camp Half-Blood. He’s used most of the legion’s treasure to

purchase Cyclopes-built onagers.’

‘Oh, no, not onagers!’ Leo said. ‘Also,

what’s an onager?’

Frank scowled. ‘You build machines. How

can you not know what an onager is? It’s just

the biggest, baddest catapult ever used by

the Roman army.’

‘Fine,’ Leo said. ‘But onager is a stupid

name. They should’ve called them

Valdezapults.’

Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘Leo, this is serious.

If Artemis is right, six of these machines will

612/982

be rolling into Long Island tomorrow night.

That’s what Octavian has been waiting for.

At dawn on August first, he’ll have enough

firepower to completely destroy Camp Half-

Blood without a single Roman casualty. He

thinks that’ll make him a hero.’

Frank muttered a Latin curse. ‘Except he’s

also summoned so many monstrous “allies”

that the legion is completely surrounded by

wild centaurs, tribes of dog-headed cyno-

cephali, and who knows what else. As soon as the legion destroys Camp Half-Blood, the

monsters will turn on Octavian and destroy

the legion.’

‘And then Gaia rises,’ Leo said. ‘And bad

stuff happens.’

In his head, gears turned as the new in-

formation clicked into place. ‘All right … this

just makes my plan even more important.

Once we get this physician’s cure, I’m going

to need your help. Both of you.’

613/982

Frank glanced nervously at the cursed yel-

low daisy. ‘What kind of help?’

Leo told them his plan. The more he

talked, the more shocked they looked, but

when he was done neither of them told him

he was crazy. A tear glistened on Hazel’s

cheek.

‘It has to be this way,’ Leo said. ‘Nike con-

firmed it. Apollo confirmed it. The others

would never accept it, but you guys … you’re

Romans. That’s why I wanted you to come to

Delos with me. You get the whole sacrifice

thing – doing your duty, jumping on your

sword.’

Frank sniffled. ‘I think you mean falling on

your sword.’

‘Whatever,’ Leo said. ‘You know this has to be the answer.’

‘Leo …’ Frank choked up.

Leo himself wanted to cry like a Valdezin-

ator, but he kept his cool. ‘Hey, big guy, I’m

614/982

counting on you. Remember you told me

about that conversation with Mars? Your dad

said you’d have to step up, right? You’d have

to make the call nobody else was willing to

make.’

‘Or the war would go sideways,’ Frank re-

membered. ‘But still –’

‘And Hazel,’ Leo said. ‘Crazy Mist-magicky

Hazel, you’ve got to cover for me. You’re the

only one who can. My great-granddad

Sammy saw how special you were. He

blessed me when I was a baby, because I

think somehow he knew you were going to

come back and help me. Our whole lives, mi

amiga, they’ve been leading up to this.’

‘Oh, Leo …’ She really did burst into tears

then. She grabbed him and hugged him,

which was sweet until Frank started crying

too and wrapped them both in his arms.

That got a little weird.

615/982

‘Okay, well …’ Leo gently extricated him-

self. ‘So we’re in agreement?’

‘I hate this plan,’ Frank said.

‘I despise it,’ Hazel said.

‘Think how I feel,’ Leo said. ‘But you know it’s our best shot.’

Neither of them argued. Leo kind of

wished they had.

‘Let’s get back to the ship,’ he said. ‘We

have a healer god to find.’

X X X V

Leo

LEO SPOTTED THE SECRET ENTRANCE

IMMEDIATELY.

‘Oh, that’s beautiful.’ He manoeuvred the

ship over the ruins of Epidaurus.

The Argo II really wasn’t in good shape to fly, but Leo had got her airborne after only

one night of work. With the world ending to-

morrow morning, he was highly motivated.

He’d primed the oar flaps. He’d injected

Styx water into the samophlange. He’d

treated Festus the figurehead to his favourite

brew – thirty-weight motor oill and Tabasco

sauce. Even Buford the Wonder Table had

618/982

pitched in, rattling around belowdecks while

his holographic Mini-Hedge yelled, ‘GIVE

ME THIRTY PUSH-UPS!’ to inspire the

engine.

Now, at last, they hovered over the ancient

temple complex of the healing god Asclepius,

where they could hopefully find the physi-

cian’s cure and maybe also some ambrosia,

nectar and Fonzies, because Leo’s supplies

were running low.

Next to him on the quarterdeck, Percy

peered over the railing.

‘Looks like more rubble,’ he noted.

His face was still green from his underwa-

ter poisoning, but at least he wasn’t running

to the bathroom to upchuck quite so often.

Between him and Hazel’s seasickness, it had

been impossible to find an unoccupied toilet

onboard for the past few days.

619/982

Annabeth pointed to the disc-shaped

structure about fifty yards off their port side.

‘There.’

Leo smiled. ‘Exactly. See, the architect

knows her stuff.’

The rest of the crew gathered around.

‘What are we looking at?’ Frank asked.

‘Ah, Señor Zhang,’ Leo said, ‘you know

how you’re always saying, “Leo, you are the

only true genius among demigods”?’

‘I’m pretty sure I never said that.’

‘Well, turns out there are other true geni-

uses! Because one of them must have made

that work of art down there.’

‘It’s a stone circle,’ Frank said. ‘Probably

the foundation of an old shrine.’

Piper shook her head. ‘No, it’s more than

that. Look at the ridges and grooves carved

around the rim.’

‘Like the teeth of a gear,’ Jason offered.

620/982

‘And those concentric rings.’ Hazel pointed

to the centre of the structure, where curved

stones formed a sort of bull’s-eye. ‘The pat-

tern reminds me of Pasiphaë’s pendant: the

symbol of the Labyrinth.’

‘Huh.’ Leo scowled. ‘Well, I hadn’t thought

of that. But think mechanical. Frank, Hazel

… where did we see concentric circles like

that before?’

‘The laboratory under Rome,’ Frank said.

‘The Archimedes lock on the door,’ Hazel

recalled. ‘It had rings within rings.’

Percy snorted. ‘You’re telling me that’s a

massive stone lock? It’s, like, fifty feet in

diameter.’

‘Leo might be right,’ Annabeth said. ‘In an-

cient times, the temple of Asclepius was like

the General Hospital of Greece. Everybody

came here for the best healing. Above-

ground, it was the size of a major city, but

supposedly the real action happened

621/982

belowground. That’s where the high priests

had their intensive-care super-magical-type

compound, accessed by a secret passage.’

Percy scratched his ear. ‘So, if that big

round thing is the lock, how do we get the

key?’

‘Way ahead of you, Aquaman,’ Leo said.

‘Okay, do not call me Aquaman. That’s even worse than water boy.’

Leo turned to Jason and Piper. ‘You guys

remember the giant Archimedes grabber arm

I told you I was building?’

Jason raised an eyebrow. ‘I thought you

were kidding.’

‘Oh, my friend, I never kid about giant

grabber arms!’ Leo rubbed his hands in anti-

cipation. ‘It’s time to go fishing for prizes!’

Compared to the other modifications Leo

had made to the ship, the grabber arm was a

piece of cake. Originally, Archimedes had

622/982

designed it to pluck enemy ships out of the

water. Now Leo found another use for it.

He opened the hull’s forward access vent

and extended the arm, guided by the console

monitor and Jason, who flew outside, yelling

directions.

‘Left!’ Jason called. ‘A couple of inches –

yeah! Okay, down. Keep it coming. You’re

good.’

Using his trackpad and turntable controls,

Leo opened the claw. Its prongs settled

around the grooves in the circular stone

structure below. He checked the aerial stabil-

izers and the monitor’s video feed.

‘Okay, little buddy.’ Leo patted the

Archimedes sphere embedded in the helm.

‘This is all you.’

He activated the sphere.

The grabber arm began to turn like a cork-

screw. It rotated the outer ring of stone,

which ground and rumbled but thankfully

623/982

didn’t shatter. Then the claw detached, fixed

itself around the second stone ring and

turned it in the opposite direction.

Standing next to him at the monitor, Piper

kissed him on the cheek. ‘It’s working. Leo,

you’re amazing.’

Leo grinned. He was about to make a com-

ment about his own awesomeness, then he

remembered the plan he had worked out

with Hazel and Frank – and the fact that he

might never see Piper again after tomorrow.

The joke sort of died in his throat. ‘Yeah, well

… thanks, Beauty Queen.’

Below them, the last stone ring turned and

settled with a deep pneumatic hiss. The

entire fifty-foot pedestal telescoped down-

ward into a spiral staircase.

Hazel exhaled. ‘Leo, even from up here,

I’m sensing bad stuff at the bottom of those

stairs. Something … large and dangerous.

You sure you don’t want me to come along?’

624/982

‘Thanks, Hazel, but we’ll be good.’ He pat-

ted Piper on the back. ‘Me and Piper and

Jason – we’re old pros at large and

dangerous.’

Frank held out the vial of Pylosian mint.

‘Don’t break it.’

Leo nodded gravely. ‘Don’t break the vial

of deadly poison. Man, I’m glad you said

that. Never would have occurred to me.’

‘Shut up, Valdez.’ Frank gave him a bear

hug. ‘And be careful.’

‘Ribs,’ Leo squeaked.

‘Sorry.’

Annabeth and Percy wished them good

luck. Then Percy excused himself to go throw

up.

Jason summoned the winds and whisked

Piper and Leo down to the surface.

The stairs spiralled downward about sixty

feet before opening into a chamber as large

625/982

as Bunker Nine – which is to say,

ginormous.

The polished white tiles on the walls and

floor reflected the light of Jason’s sword so

well that Leo didn’t need to make a fire.

Rows of long stone benches filled the entire

chamber, reminding Leo of one of those

mega-churches they always advertised back

in Houston. At the far end of the room,

where the altar would have been, stood a

ten-foot-tall statue of pure white alabaster –

a young woman in a white robe, a serene

smile on her face. In one hand she raised a

cup, while a golden serpent coiled around

her arm, its head poised over the brim as if

ready to drink.

‘Large and dangerous,’ Jason guessed.

Piper scanned the room. ‘This must have

been the sleeping area.’ Her voice echoed a

little too loudly for Leo’s comfort. ‘The pa-

tients stayed here overnight. The god

626/982

Asclepius was supposed to send them a

dream, telling them what cure to ask for.’

‘How do you know that?’ Leo asked. ‘An-

nabeth told you?’

Piper looked offended. ‘I know stuff. That

statue over there is Hygeia, the daughter of Asclepius. She’s the goddess of good health.

That’s where we get the word hygiene.’

Jason studied the statue warily. ‘What’s

with the snake and the cup?’

‘Uh, not sure,’ Piper admitted. ‘But back in

the day this place – the Asclepeion – was a medical school as well as a hospital. All the

best doctor-priests trained here. They

would’ve worshipped both Asclepius and

Hygeia.’

Leo wanted to say, Okay, good tour. Let’s

leave.

The silence, the gleaming white tiles, the

creepy smile on Hygeia’s face … it all made

him want to crawl out of his skin. But Jason

627/982

and Piper headed down the centre aisle to-

wards the statue, so Leo figured he’d better

follow.

Strewn across the benches were old

magazines: Highlights for Children, Au-

tumn, 20 B.C.E. ; Hephaestus-TV Weekly –

Aphrodite’s Latest Baby Bump; A: The

Magazine of Asclepius – Ten Simple Tips to

Get the Most out of Your Leeching!

‘It’s a reception area,’ Leo muttered. ‘I hate

reception areas.’

Here and there, piles of dust and scattered

bones lay on the floor, which did not say en-

couraging things about the average wait

time.

‘Check it out.’ Jason pointed. ‘Were those

signs here when we walked in? And that

door?’

Leo didn’t think so. On the wall to the

right of the statue, above a closed metal

628/982

door, were two electronic signboards. The

top one read:

THE DOCTOR IS:

INCARCERATED.

The sign below that read:

NOW SERVING NUMBER: 0000000

Jason squinted. ‘I can’t read it that far away.

The doctor is …’

‘Incarcerated,’ Leo said. ‘Apollo warned

me that Asclepius was being held under

guard. Zeus didn’t want him sharing his

medical secrets or something.’

‘Twenty bucks and a box of Froot Loops

that statue is the guardian,’ Piper said.

‘I’m not taking that bet.’ Leo glanced at the

nearest pile of waiting-room dust. ‘Well … I

guess we take a number.’

The giant statue had other ideas.

629/982

When they got within five feet, she turned

her head and looked at them. Her expression

remained frozen. Her mouth didn’t move.

But a voice issued from somewhere above,

echoing through the room.

‘Do you have an appointment?’

Piper didn’t miss a beat. ‘Hello, Hygeia!

Apollo sent us. We need to see Asclepius.’

The alabaster statue stepped off her dais.

She might have been mechanical, but Leo

couldn’t hear any moving parts. To be cer-

tain, he’d actually have to touch her, and he

didn’t want to get that close.

‘I see.’ The statue kept smiling, though she

didn’t sound pleased. ‘May I make a copy of

your insurance cards?’

‘Ah, well …’ Piper faltered. ‘We don’t have

them on us, but –’

‘ No insurance cards? ’ The statue shook

her head. An exasperated sigh echoed

through the chamber. ‘I suppose you haven’t

630/982

prepared for your visit, either. Have you

washed your hands thoroughly?’

‘Uh … yes?’ Piper said.

Leo looked at his hands, which, as usual,

were streaked with grease and grime. He hid

them behind his back.

‘Are you wearing clean underwear?’ the

statue asked.

‘Hey, lady,’ Leo said, ‘that’s getting

personal.’

‘You should always wear clean underwear

to the doctor’s office,’ chided Hygeia. ‘I’m

afraid you are a health hazard. You will have

to be sanitized before we can proceed.’

The golden snake uncurled and dropped

from her arm. It reared its head and hissed,

flashing sabre-like fangs.

‘Uh, you know,’ Jason said, ‘getting sanit-

ized by large snakes isn’t covered by our

medical plan. Darn it.’

631/982

‘Oh, that doesn’t matter,’ Hygeia assured

him. ‘Sanitizing is a community service. It’s

complimentary!’

The snake lunged.

Leo had had a lot of practice dodging

mechanical monsters, which was good, be-

cause the golden serpent was fast. Leo leaped

to one side and the snake missed his head by

an inch. He rolled and came up, hands blaz-

ing. As the snake attacked, Leo blasted it in

the eyes, causing it to veer left and smash in-

to the bench.

Piper and Jason went to work on Hygeia.

They slashed through the statue’s knees,

felling her like an alabaster Christmas tree.

Her head hit a bench. Her chalice splashed

steaming acid all over the floor. Jason and

Piper moved in for the kill, but, before they

could strike, Hygeia’s legs popped back on

like they were magnetic. The goddess rose,

still smiling.

632/982

‘Unacceptable,’ she said. ‘The doctor will

not see you until you are properly sanitized.’

She sloshed her cup towards Piper, who

jumped out of the way as more acid splashed

across the nearest benches, dissolving the

stone in a hissing cloud of steam.

The snake, meanwhile, recovered its

senses. Its melted metal eyes somehow re-

paired themselves. Its face popped back into

shape like a dent-resistant car hood.

It struck at Leo, who ducked and tried to

grapple its neck, but it was like trying to grab

sandpaper going sixty miles an hour. The

serpent shot past, its rough metal skin leav-

ing Leo’s hands scraped and bleeding.

The momentary contact did give Leo some

insight, however. The snake was a machine.

He sensed its inner workings and, if the

statue of Hygeia operated on a similar

schematic, Leo might have a chance …

633/982

Across the room, Jason soared into the air

and lopped the goddess’s head off.

Sadly, the head flew right back into place.

‘Unacceptable,’ Hygeia said calmly. ‘De-

capitation is not a healthy lifestyle choice.’

‘Jason, get over here!’ Leo yelled. ‘Piper,

buy us some time!’

Piper glanced over, like Easier said than

done.

‘Hygeia!’ she yelled. ‘I have insurance!’

That got the statue’s attention. Even the

golden snake turned towards her, as if insur-

ance was some sort of tasty rodent.

‘Insurance?’ the statue said eagerly. ‘Who

is your provider?’

‘Um … Blue Lightning,’ Piper said. ‘I have

the card right here. Just a second.’

She made a big show of patting down her

pockets. The snake slithered over to watch.

Jason ran to Leo’s side, gasping. ‘What’s

the plan?’

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‘We can’t destroy these things,’ Leo said.

‘They’re designed for self-healing. They’re

immune to pretty much every kind of

damage.’

‘Great,’ Jason said. ‘So … ?’

‘You remember Chiron’s old gaming sys-

tem?’ Leo asked.

Jason’s eyes widened. ‘Leo … this isn’t

Mario Party Six.’

‘Same principle, though.’

‘Idiot mode?’

Leo grinned. ‘I’ll need you and Piper to run

interference. I’ll reprogram the snake, then

Big Bertha.’

‘Hygeia.’

‘Whatever. Ready?’

‘No.’

Leo and Jason ran for the snake.

Hygeia was assailing Piper with health-

care questions. ‘Is Blue Lightning an HMO?

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What is your deductible? Who is your

primary care deity?’

As Piper ad-libbed answers, Leo jumped

on the serpent’s back. This time he knew

what he was looking for, and for a moment

the serpent didn’t even seem to notice him.

Leo prised open a service panel near the

snake’s head. He held on with his legs, trying

to ignore the pain and sticky blood on his

hands as he redid the serpent’s wiring.

Jason stood by, ready to attack, but the

snake seemed transfixed by Piper’s problems

with Blue Lightning’s coverage.

‘Then the advice nurse said I had to call a

service centre,’ Piper reported. ‘And the

medications weren’t covered by my plan!

And –’

The snake lurched as Leo connected the

last two wires. Leo jumped off and the

golden serpent began shaking

uncontrollably.

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Hygeia whirled to face them. ‘What have

you done? My snake requires medical

assistance!’

‘Does it have insurance?’ Piper asked.

‘WHAT?’ The statue turned back to her,

and Leo jumped. Jason summoned a gust of

wind, which boosted Leo onto the statue’s

shoulders like a little kid at a parade. He

popped open the back of the statue’s head as

she staggered around, sloshing acid.

‘Get off!’ she yelled. ‘This is not hygienic!’

‘Hey!’ Jason yelled, flying circles around

her. ‘I have a question about my deductibles!’

‘ What? ’ the statue cried.

‘Hygeia!’ Piper shouted. ‘I need an invoice

submitted to Medicare!’

‘No, please!’

Leo found the statue’s regulator chip. He

clicked a few dials and pulled some wires,

trying to pretend that Hygeia was just one

large, dangerous Nintendo game system.

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He reconnected her circuits and Hygeia

began to spin, hollering and flailing her

arms. Leo jumped away, barely avoiding an

acid bath.

He and his friends backed up while Hygeia

and her snake underwent a violent religious

experience.

‘What did you do?’ Piper demanded.

‘Idiot mode,’ Leo said.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Back at camp,’ Jason explained, ‘Chiron

had this ancient gaming system in the rec

room. Leo and I used to play it sometimes.

You’d compete against, like, computer-con-

trolled opponents, coms –’

‘– and they had three difficulty options,’

Leo said. ‘ Easy, medium and hard.’

‘I’ve played video games before,’ Piper

said. ‘So what did you do?’

‘Well … I got bored with those settings.’

Leo shrugged. ‘So I invented a fourth

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difficulty level: idiot mode. It makes the

coms so stupid it’s funny. They always

choose exactly the wrong thing to do.’

Piper stared at the statue and snake, both

of which were writhing and starting to

smoke. ‘Are you sure you set them to idiot

mode?’

‘We’ll know in a minute.’

‘What if you set them to extreme

difficulty?’

‘Then we’ll know that, too.’

The snake stopped shuddering. It coiled

up and looked around as if bewildered.

Hygeia froze. A puff of smoke drifted from

her right ear. She looked down at Leo. ‘You

must die! Hello! You must die!’

She raised her cup and poured acid over

her face. Then she turned and marched face-

first into the nearest wall. The snake reared

up and slammed its head repeatedly into the

floor.

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‘Okay,’ Jason said. ‘I think we have

achieved idiot mode.’

‘Hello! Die!’ Hygeia backed away from the

wall and face-slammed it again.

‘Let’s go.’ Leo ran for the metal door next

to the dais. He grabbed the handle. It was

still locked, but Leo sensed the mechanisms

inside – wires running up the frame, connec-

ted to …

He stared at the two blinking signs above

the door.

‘Jason,’ he said, ‘give me a boost.’

Another gust of wind levitated him up-

ward. Leo went to work with his pliers, re-

programming the signs until the top one

flashed:

THE DOCTOR IS:

IN DA HOUSE.

The bottom sign changed to read:

NOW SERVING:

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ALL DA LADIES LUV LEO!

The metal door swung open, and Leo settled

to the floor.

‘See, the wait wasn’t so bad!’ Leo grinned

at his friends. ‘The doctor will see us now.’

X X X V I

Leo

AT THE END OF THE HALL stood a walnut door

with a bronze plaque:

ASCLEPIUS

MD, DMD, DME, DC, DVS, FAAN, OMG, EMT, TTYL,

FRCP, ME, IOU, OD, OT, PHARMD, BAMF, RN,

PHD, INC., SMH

There may have been more acronyms in the

list, but by that point Leo’s brain had

exploded.

Piper knocked. ‘Dr Asclepius?’

The door flew open. The man inside had a

kindly smile, crinkles around his eyes, short

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salt-and-pepper hair and a well-trimmed

beard. He wore a white lab coat over a busi-

ness suit and a stethoscope around his neck

– your stereotypical doctor outfit, except for

one thing: Asclepius held a polished black

staff with a live green python coiled around

it.

Leo wasn’t happy to see another snake.

The python regarded him with pale yellow

eyes, and Leo had a feeling it was not set to idiot mode.

‘Hello!’ said Asclepius.

‘Doctor.’ Piper’s smile was so warm it

would’ve melted a Boread. ‘We’d be so grate-

full for your help. We need the physician’s cure.’

Leo wasn’t even her target, but Piper’s

charmspeak washed over him irresistibly. He

would’ve done anything to help her get that

cure. He would’ve gone to medical school,

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got twelve doctorate degrees and bought a

large green python on a stick.

Asclepius put his hand over his heart. ‘Oh,

my dear, I would be delighted to help.’

Piper’s smile wavered. ‘You would? I

mean, of course you would.’

‘Come in! Come in!’ Asclepius ushered

them into his office.

The guy was so nice that Leo figured his

office would be full of torture devices, but it

looked like … well, a doctor’s office: a big

maple desk, bookshelves stuffed with medic-

all books, and some of those plastic organ

models Leo loved to play with as a kid. He

remembered getting in trouble one time be-

cause he had turned a cross-section kidney

and some skeleton legs into a kidney mon-

ster and scared the nurse.

Life was simpler back then.

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Asclepius took the big comfy doctor’s chair

and laid his staff and serpent across his desk.

‘Please, sit!’

Jason and Piper took the two chairs on the

patients’ side. Leo had to remain standing,

which was fine with him. He didn’t want to

be eye-level with the snake.

‘So.’ Asclepius leaned back. ‘I can’t tell you

how nice it is to actually talk with patients.

The last few thousand years, the paperwork

has got out of control. Rush, rush, rush. Fill

in forms. Deal with red tape. Not to mention

the giant alabaster guardian who kills every-

one in the waiting room. It takes all the fun

out of medicine!’

‘Yeah,’ Leo said. ‘Hygeia is kind of a

downer.’

Asclepius grinned. ‘My real daughter Hy-

geia isn’t like that, I assure you. She’s quite

nice. At any rate, you did well

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reprogramming the statue. You have a sur-

geon’s hands.’

Jason shuddered. ‘Leo with a scalpel?

Don’t encourage him.’

The doctor god chuckled. ‘Now, what

seems to be the trouble?’ He sat forward and

peered at Jason. ‘Hmm … Imperial gold

sword wound, but that’s healed nicely. No

cancer, no heart problems. Watch that mole

on your left foot, but I’m sure it’s benign.’

Jason blanched. ‘How did you –’

‘Oh, of course!’ Asclepius said. ‘You’re a bit

short-sighted! Simple fix.’

He opened his drawer, whipped out a pre-

scription pad and an eyeglasses case. He

scribbled something on the pad, then handed

the glasses and the scrip to Jason. ‘Keep the

prescription for future reference, but these

lenses should work. Try them on.’

‘Wait,’ Leo said. ‘Jason is short-sighted?’

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Jason opened the case. ‘I – I have had a

little trouble seeing stuff from a distance

lately,’ he admitted. ‘I thought I was just

tired.’ He tried on the glasses, which had thin

frames of Imperial gold. ‘Wow. Yeah. That’s

better.’

Piper smiled. ‘You look very

distinguished.’

‘I don’t know, man,’ Leo said. ‘I’d go for

contacts – glowing orange ones with cat’s-

eye pupils. Those would be cool.’

‘Glasses are fine,’ Jason decided. ‘Thanks,

uh, Dr Asclepius, but that’s not why we

came.’

‘No?’ Asclepius steepled his fingers. ‘Well,

let’s see then …’ He turned to Piper. ‘You

seem fine, my dear. Broken arm when you

were six. Fell off a horse?’

Piper’s jaw dropped. ‘How could you pos-

sibly know that?’

648/982

‘Vegetarian diet,’ he continued. ‘No prob-

lem, just make sure you’re getting enough

iron and protein. Hmm … a little weak in the

left shoulder. I assume you got hit with

something heavy about a month ago?’

‘A sandbag in Rome,’ Piper said. ‘That’s

amazing.’

‘Alternate ice and a hot pack if it bothers

you,’ Asclepius advised. ‘And you …’ He

faced Leo.

‘Oh, my.’ The doctor’s expression turned

grim. The friendly twinkle disappeared from

his eyes. ‘Oh, I see …’

The doctor’s expression said, I am so, so

sorry.

Leo’s heart filled with cement. If he’d har-

boured any last hopes of avoiding what was

to come, they now sank.

‘What?’ Jason’s new glasses flashed.

‘What’s wrong with Leo?’

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‘Hey, doc.’ Leo shot him a drop it look.

Hopefully they knew about patient confiden-

tiality in Ancient Greece. ‘We came for the

physician’s cure. Can you help us? I’ve got

some Pylosian mint here and a very nice yel-

low daisy.’ He set the ingredients on the

desk, carefully avoiding the snake’s mouth.

‘Hold it,’ Piper said. ‘Is there something

wrong with Leo or not?’

Asclepius cleared his throat. ‘I … never

mind. Forget I said anything. Now, you want

the physician’s cure.’

Piper frowned. ‘But –’

‘Seriously, guys,’ Leo said, ‘I’m fine, except

for the fact that Gaia’s destroying the world

tomorrow. Let’s focus.’

They didn’t look happy about it, but

Asclepius forged ahead. ‘So this daisy was

picked by my father, Apollo?’

‘Yep,’ Leo said. ‘He sends hugs and kisses.’

650/982

Asclepius picked up the flower and sniffed

it. ‘I do hope Dad comes through this war all

right. Zeus can be … quite unreasonable.

Now, the only missing ingredient is the

heartbeat of the chained god.’

‘I have it,’ Piper said. ‘At least … I can

summon the makhai.’

‘Excellent. Just a moment, dear.’ He

looked at his python. ‘Spike, are you ready?’

Leo stifled a laugh. ‘Your snake’s name is

Spike?’

Spike looked at him balefully. He hissed,

revealing a crown of spikes around his neck

like a basilisk’s.

Leo’s laugh crawled back down his throat

to die. ‘My bad,’ he said. ‘Of course your

name is Spike.’

‘He’s a little grumpy,’ Asclepius said.

‘People are always confusing my staff with the staff of Hermes, which has two snakes,

obviously. Over the centuries, people have

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called Hermes’s staff the symbol of medicine,

when of course it should be my staff. Spike feels slighted. George and Martha get all the

attention. Anyway …’

Asclepius set the daisy and poison in front

of Spike. ‘Pylosian mint – certainty of death.

The curse of Delos – anchoring that which

cannot be anchored. Now the final ingredi-

ent: the heartbeat of the chained god –

chaos, violence and fear of mortality.’ He

turned to Piper. ‘My dear, you may release

the makhai.’

Piper closed her eyes.

Wind swirled through the room. Angry

voices wailed. Leo felt a strange desire to

smack Spike with a hammer. He wanted to

strangle the good doctor with his bare hands.

Then Spike unhinged his jaw and swal-

lowed the angry wind. His neck ballooned as

the spirits of battle went down his throat. He

652/982

snapped up the daisy and the vial of Pylosian

mint for dessert.

‘Won’t the poison hurt him?’ Jason asked.

‘No, no,’ Asclepius said. ‘Wait and see.’

A moment later Spike belched out a new

vial – a stoppered glass tube no bigger than

Leo’s finger. Dark red liquid glowed inside.

‘The physician’s cure.’ Asclepius picked up

the vial and turned it in the light. His expres-

sion became serious, then bewildered. ‘Wait

… why did I agree to make this?’

Piper placed her hand palm up on the

desk. ‘Because we need it to save the world.

It’s very important. You’re the only one who

can help us.’

Her charmspeak was so potent even Spike

the snake relaxed. He curled around his staff

and went to sleep. Asclepius’s expression

softened, like he was easing himself into a

hot bath.

653/982

‘Of course,’ the god said. ‘I forgot. But you

must be careful. Hades hates it when I raise

people from the dead. The last time I gave

someone this potion, the Lord of the Under-

world complained to Zeus, and I was killed

by a lightning bolt. BOOM!’

Leo flinched. ‘You look pretty good for a

dead guy.’

‘Oh, I got better. That was part of the com-

promise. You see, when Zeus killed me, my

father Apollo got very upset. He couldn’t take

out his anger on Zeus directly; the king of the

gods was much too powerful. So Apollo took

revenge on the makers of lightning bolts in-

stead. He killed some of the Elder Cyclopes.

For that, Zeus punished Apollo … quite

severely. Finally, to make peace, Zeus agreed

to make me a god of medicine, with the un-

derstanding that I wouldn’t bring anyone

else back to life.’ Asclepius’s eyes filled with

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uncertainty. ‘And yet here I am … giving you

the cure.’

‘Because you realize how important this

is,’ Piper said, ‘you’re willing to make an

exception.’

‘Yes …’ Reluctantly, Asclepius handed

Piper the vial. ‘At any rate, the potion must

be administered as soon as possible after

death. It can be injected or poured into the

mouth. And there is only enough for one per-

son. Do you understand me?’ He looked dir-

ectly at Leo.

‘We understand,’ Piper promised. ‘Are you

sure you don’t want to come with us, Asclepi-

us? Your guardian is out of commission.

You’d be really helpful aboard the Argo II.’

Asclepius smiled wistfully. ‘The Argo …

back when I was a demigod, I sailed on the

original ship, you know. Ah, to be a carefree

adventurer again!’

‘Yeah …’ Jason muttered. ‘Carefree.’

655/982

‘But, alas, I cannot. Zeus will already be

quite angry with me for helping you. Besides,

the guardian will reprogram itself soon. You

should leave.’ Asclepius rose. ‘Best wishes,

demigods. And, if you see my father again,

please … give him my regrets.’

Leo wasn’t sure what that meant, but they

took their leave.

As they passed through the waiting room,

the statue of Hygeia was sitting on a bench,

pouring acid on her face and singing

‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’, while her

golden snake gnawed at her foot. The peace-

full scene was almost enough to lift Leo’s

spirits.

Back on the Argo II, they gathered in the

mess hall and filled in the rest of the crew.

‘I don’t like it,’ Jason said. ‘The way

Asclepius looked at Leo –’

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‘Aw, he just sensed my heartsickness.’ Leo

tried for a smile. ‘You know, I’m dying to see

Calypso.’

‘That is so sweet,’ Piper said. ‘But I’m not sure that’s it.’

Percy frowned at the glowing red vial that

sat in the middle of the table. ‘Any of us

might die, right? So we just need to keep the

potion handy.’

‘Assuming only one of us dies,’ Jason poin-

ted out. ‘There’s only one dose.’

Hazel and Frank stared at Leo.

He gave them a look, like Knock it off.

The others didn’t see the full picture. To

storm or fire the world must fall – Jason or Leo. In Olympia, Nike had warned that one

of the four demigods present would die:

Percy, Hazel, Frank or Leo. Only one name

overlapped those two lists: Leo. And, if Leo’s

plan was going to work, he couldn’t have

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anybody else close by when he pulled the

trigger.

His friends would never accept his de-

cision. They would argue. They would try to

save him. They would insist on finding an-

other way.

But this time, Leo was convinced, there

was no other way. Like Annabeth always told them, fighting against a prophecy never

worked. It just created more trouble. He had

to make sure this war ended, once and for

all.

‘We have to keep our options open,’ Piper

suggested. ‘We need, like, a designated med-

ic to carry the potion – somebody who can

react quickly and heal whoever gets killed.’

‘Good idea, Beauty Queen,’ Leo lied. ‘I

nominate you.’

Piper blinked. ‘But … Annabeth is wiser.

Hazel can move faster on Arion. Frank can

turn into animals –’

658/982

‘But you’ve got heart.’ Annabeth squeezed

her friend’s hand. ‘Leo’s right. When the

time comes, you’ll know what to do.’

‘Yeah,’ Jason agreed. ‘I have a feeling

you’re the best choice, Pipes. You’re going to

be there with us at the end, whatever hap-

pens, storm or fire.’

Leo picked up the vial. ‘Is everyone in

agreement?’

No one objected.

Leo locked eyes with Hazel. You know

what needs to happen.

He pulled a chamois cloth from his tool

belt and made a big show of wrapping up the

physician’s cure. Then he presented the

package to Piper.

‘Okay, then,’ he said. ‘Athens tomorrow

morning, gang. Be ready to fight some

giants.’

‘Yeah …’ Frank murmured. ‘I know I’ll

sleep well.’

659/982

After dinner broke up, Jason and Piper

tried to waylay Leo. They wanted to talk

about what had happened with Asclepius,

but Leo evaded them.

‘I’ve got to work on the engine,’ he said,

which was true.

Once in the engine room, with only Buford

the Wonder Table for company, Leo took a

deep breath. He reached into his tool belt

and pulled out the actual vial of physician’s

cure – not the trick-of-the-Mist version he’d

handed to Piper.

Buford blew steam at him.

‘Hey, man, I had to,’ Leo said.

Buford activated his holographic Hedge.

‘PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!’

‘Look, it’s got to be this way. Otherwise

we’ll all die.’

Buford made a plaintive squeal, then

clattered into the corner in a sulk.

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Leo stared at the engine. He’d spent so

much time putting it together. He’d sacri-

ficed months of sweat and pain and

loneliness.

Now the Argo II was approaching the end

of its voyage. Leo’s whole life – his childhood

with Tía Callida; his mother’s death in that

warehouse fire; his years as a foster kid; his

months at Camp Half-Blood with Jason and

Piper – all of it would culminate tomorrow

morning in one final battle.

He opened the access panel.

Festus’s voice creaked over the intercom.

‘Yeah, buddy,’ Leo agreed. ‘It’s time.’

More creaking.

‘I know,’ Leo said. ‘Together till the end?’

Festus squeaked affirmatively.

Leo checked the ancient bronze astrolabe,

which was now fitted with the crystal from

Ogygia. Leo could only hope it would work.

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‘I will get back to you, Calypso,’ he

muttered. ‘I promised on the River Styx.’

He flipped a switch and brought the navig-

ation device online. He set the timer for

twenty-four hours.

Finally he opened the engine’s ventilator

line and pushed inside the vial of physician’s

cure. It disappeared into the veins of the ship

with a decisive thunk.

‘Too late to turn back now,’ Leo said.

He curled on the floor and closed his eyes,

determined to enjoy the familiar hum of the

engine for one last night.

X X X V I I

Reyna

‘TURN BACK!’

Reyna wasn’t keen to give orders to Pegas-

us, the Lord of Flying Horses, but she was

even less keen to get shot out of the sky.

As they approached Camp Half-Blood in

the predawn hours of 1 August, she spotted

six Roman onagers. Even in the dark, their

Imperial gold plating glinted. Their massive

throwing arms bent back like ship masts list-

ing in a storm. Crews of artillerists scurried

around the machines, loading the slings,

checking the torsion of the ropes.

‘What are those?’ Nico called.

664/982

He flew about twenty feet to her left on the

dark pegasus Blackjack.

‘Siege weapons,’ Reyna said. ‘If we get any

closer, they can shoot us out of the sky.’

‘From this high up?’

On her right, Coach Hedge shouted from

the back of his steed, Guido, ‘Those are on-

agers, kid! Those things can kick higher than

Bruce Lee!’

‘Lord Pegasus,’ Reyna said, resting her

hand on the stallion’s neck, ‘we need a safe

place to land.’

Pegasus seemed to understand. He

wheeled to the left. The other flying horses

followed – Blackjack, Guido and six others

who were towing the Athena Parthenos be-

neath them on cables.

As they skirted the western edge of the

camp, Reyna took in the scene. The legion

lined the base of the eastern hills, ready for a

dawn attack. The onagers were arrayed

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behind them in a loose semicircle at three-

hundred-yard intervals. Judging from the

size of the weapons, Reyna calculated that

Octavian had enough firepower to destroy

every living thing in the valley.

But that was only part of the threat. En-

camped along the legion’s flanks were hun-

dreds of auxilia forces. Reyna couldn’t see well in the dark, but she spotted at least one

tribe of wild centaurs and an army of cyno-

cephali, the dog-headed men who’d made an

uneasy truce with the legion centuries ago.

The Romans were badly outnumbered, sur-

rounded by a sea of unreliable allies.

‘There.’ Nico pointed towards Long Island

Sound, where the lights of a large yacht

gleamed a quarter of a mile offshore. ‘We

could land on the deck of that ship. The

Greeks control the sea.’

Reyna wasn’t sure the Greeks would be

any friendlier than the Romans, but Pegasus

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seemed to like the idea. He banked towards

the dark waters of the Sound.

The ship was a white pleasure craft a hun-

dred feet long, with sleek lines and dark tin-

ted portals. Painted on the bow in red letters

was the name MI AMOR. On the forward

deck was a helipad big enough for the Athena

Parthenos.

Reyna saw no crew. She guessed the ship

was a regular mortal vessel anchored for the

night, but if she was wrong and the ship was

a trap …

‘It’s our best shot,’ Nico said. ‘The horses

are tired. We need to set down.’

She nodded reluctantly. ‘Let’s do it.’

Pegasus landed on the forward deck with

Guido and Blackjack. The six other horses

gently set the Athena Parthenos on the

helipad and then settled around it. With

their cables and harnesses, they looked like

carousel animals.

667/982

Reyna dismounted. As she had two days

ago, when she first met Pegasus, she knelt

before the horse.

‘Thank you, great one.’

Pegasus spread his wings and inclined his

head.

Even now, after flying halfway up the East

Coast together, Reyna could scarcely believe

the immortal horse had allowed her to ride.

Reyna had always pictured him as solid

white with dove-like wings, but Pegasus’s

coat was rich brown, mottled with red and

gold around the muzzle – which Hedge

claimed were the marks where the stallion

had emerged from the blood and ichor of his

beheaded mother, Medusa. Pegasus’s wings

were the colours of an eagle’s – gold, white,

brown and rust – which made him look

much more handsome and regal than plain

white. He was the colour of all horses, rep-resenting all his offspring.

668/982

Lord Pegasus nickered.

Hedge trotted over to translate. ‘Pegasus

says he should leave before the shooting

starts. His life force connects all pegasi, see, so if he gets injured all winged horses feel his pain. That’s why he doesn’t get out much.

He’s immortal, but his offspring aren’t. He doesn’t want them to suffer on his account.

He’s asked the other horses to stay with us,

to help us complete our mission.’

‘I understand,’ Reyna said. ‘Thank you.’

Pegasus whinnied.

Hedge’s eyes widened. He choked back a

sob, then fished a handkerchief out of his

backpack and dabbed his eyes.

‘Coach?’ Nico frowned with concern. ‘What

did Pegasus say?’

‘He – he says he didn’t come to us in per-

son because of my message.’ Hedge turned to

Reyna. ‘He did it because of you. He experiences the feelings of all winged horses. He

669/982

followed your friendship with Scipio. Pegas-

us says he’s never been more touched by a

demigod’s compassion for a winged horse.

He gives you the title Horse Friend. This is a

great honour.’

Reyna’s eyes stung. She bowed her head.

‘Thank you, lord.’

Pegasus pawed the deck. The other winged

horses whinnied in salute. Then their sire

launched himself upward and spiralled into

the night.

Hedge stared at the clouds in amazement.

‘Pegasus hasn’t shown himself in hundreds

of years.’ He patted Reyna on the back. ‘You

did good, Roman.’

Reyna didn’t feel like she deserved credit

for putting Scipio through so much suffering,

but she forced down her feelings of guilt.

‘Nico, we should check the ship,’ she said.

‘If there’s anyone aboard –’

670/982

‘Way ahead of you.’ He stroked Blackjack’s

muzzle. ‘I sense two mortals asleep in the

main cabin. Nobody else. I’m no child of

Hypnos, but I’ve sent some deep dreams

their way. Should be enough to keep them

snoozing until well after sunrise.’

Reyna tried not to stare at him. In the last

few days he’d become so much stronger.

Hedge’s nature magic had brought him back

from the brink. She’d seen Nico do some im-

pressive things, but manipulating dreams …

had he always been able to do that?

Coach Hedge rubbed his hands eagerly. ‘So

when can we go ashore? My wife is waiting!’

Reyna scanned the horizon. A Greek tri-

reme patrolled just offshore, but it didn’t

seem to have noticed their arrival. No alarms

sounded. No signs of movement along the

beach.

She caught a glimpse of silver wake in the

moonlight, half a mile to the west. A black

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motorboat was speeding towards them with

no running lights. Reyna hoped it was a mor-

tall vessel. Then it got closer, and Reyna’s

hand tightened on the hilt of her sword.

Glinting on the boat’s prow was a laurel

wreath design with the letters SPQR.

‘The legion has sent a welcoming

committee.’

Nico followed her gaze. ‘I thought the Ro-

mans didn’t have a navy.’

‘We didn’t,’ she said. ‘Apparently Octavian

has been busier than I realized.’

‘So we attack!’ Hedge said. ‘ ’Cause

nobody’s standing in my way when I’m this

close.’

Reyna counted three people in the speed-

boat. The two in the back wore helmets, but

Reyna recognized the driver’s wedge-shaped

face and stocky shoulders: Michael Kahale.

‘We’ll try to parlay,’ Reyna decided. ‘That’s

one of Octavian’s right-hand men, but he’s a

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good legionnaire. I may be able to reason

with him.’

The wind swept Nico’s dark hair across his

face. ‘But if you’re wrong …’

The black boat slowed and pulled along-

side. Michael called up: ‘Reyna! I’ve got or-

ders to arrest you and confiscate that statue.

I’m coming aboard with two other centuri-

ons. I’d prefer to do this without bloodshed.’

Reyna tried to control her trembling legs.

‘Come aboard, Michael!’

She turned to Nico and Coach Hedge. ‘If

I’m wrong, be ready. Michael Kahale won’t

be easy to fight.’

Michael wasn’t dressed for combat. He wore

only his purple camp shirt, jeans and run-

ning shoes. He carried no visible weapon,

but that didn’t make Reyna feel any better.

His arms were as thick as bridge cables, his

expression as welcoming as a brick wall. The

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dove tattoo on his forearm looked more like

a bird of prey.

His eyes glittered darkly as he took in the

scene – the Athena Parthenos harnessed to

its team of pegasi, Nico with his Stygian

sword drawn, Coach Hedge with his baseball

bat.

Michael’s backup centurions were Leila

from the Fourth Cohort and Dakota from the

Fifth. Strange choices … Leila, daughter of

Ceres, wasn’t known for her aggressiveness.

She was usually quite levelheaded. And

Dakota … Reyna couldn’t believe the son of

Bacchus, the most good-natured of officers,

would side with Octavian.

‘Reyna Ramírez-Arellano,’ Michael said,

like he was reading a scroll, ‘former praetor

–’

‘I am praetor,’ Reyna corrected. ‘Unless I have been removed by a vote of the full sen-ate. Is that the case?’

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Michael sighed heavily. His heart didn’t

seem to be in his task. ‘I have orders to arrest

you and hold you for trial.’

‘On whose authority?’

‘You know whose –’

‘On what charges?’

‘Listen, Reyna –’ Michael rubbed his palm

across his forehead, like it might wipe away

his headache – ‘I don’t like this any more

than you do. But I have my orders.’

‘Illegal orders.’

‘It’s too late for argument. Octavian has as-

sumed emergency powers. The legion is be-

hind him.’

‘Is that true?’ She looked pointedly at

Dakota and Leila.

Leila wouldn’t meet her eyes. Dakota

winked like he was trying to convey a mes-

sage, but it was hard to tell with him. He

might’ve been twitching simply from too

much sugary Kool-Aid.

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‘We’re at war,’ Michael said. ‘We have to

pull together. Dakota and Leila have not

been the most enthusiastic supporters.

Octavian gave them this one last chance to

prove themselves. If they help me bring you

in – preferably alive, but dead if necessary –

then they keep their rank and prove their

loyalty.’

‘To Octavian,’ Reyna noted. ‘Not the

legion.’

Michael spread his hands, which were only

slightly smaller than baseball mitts. ‘You

can’t blame the officers for falling into line.

Octavian has a plan to win, and it’s a good

plan. At dawn those onagers will destroy the

Greek camp without a single loss of Roman

life. The gods should be healed.’

Nico stepped in. ‘You’d wipe out half the

demigods in the world, half the gods’ legacy,

to heal them? You’ll tear apart Olympus

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before Gaia even wakes up. And she is wak-

ing, Centurion.’

Michael scowled. ‘Ambassador of Pluto,

son of Hades … whatever you call yourself,

you’ve been named an enemy spy. I’ve got

orders to take you in for execution.’

‘You can try,’ Nico said coldly.

The face-off was so absurd it should have

been humorous. Nico was several years

younger, half a foot shorter and fifty pounds

lighter. But Michael didn’t make a move. The

veins in his neck pulsed.

Dakota coughed. ‘Um, Reyna … just come

with us peacefully. Please. We can work this

out.’ He was definitely winking at her.

‘All right, enough talk.’ Coach Hedge sized

up Michael Kahale. ‘Let me take this joker

down. I’ve handled bigger.’

Michael smirked at that. ‘I’m sure you’re a

brave faun, but –’

‘Satyr!’

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Coach Hedge leaped at the centurion. He

brought his baseball bat down with full force,

but Michael simply caught it and yanked it

away from the coach. Michael broke the bat

over his knee. Then he pushed the coach

back, though Reyna could tell Michael wasn’t

trying to hurt him.

‘That’s it!’ Hedge growled. ‘Now I’m really

mad!’

‘Coach,’ Reyna warned, ‘Michael is very

strong. You’d need to be an ogre or a –’

From somewhere off the port side, down

at the waterline, a voice yelled, ‘Kahale!

What’s taking so long?’

Michael flinched. ‘Octavian?’

‘Of course it’s me!’ yelled the voice from

the dark. ‘I got tired of waiting for you to

carry out my orders! I’m coming aboard.

Everyone on both sides, drop your weapons!’

Michael frowned. ‘Uh … sir? Everyone?

Even us?’

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‘You don’t solve every problem with a

sword or a fist, you big dolt! I can handle

these Graecus scum!’

Michael looked unsure about that, but he

motioned to Leila and Dakota, who set their

swords on the deck.

Reyna glanced at Nico. Obviously,

something was wrong. She couldn’t think of

any reason Octavian would be here, putting

himself in harm’s way. He definitely

wouldn’t order his own officers to get rid of

their weapons. But Reyna’s instincts told her

to play along. She dropped her blade. Nico

did the same.

‘Everyone is disarmed, sir,’ Michael called.

‘Good!’ yelled Octavian.

A dark silhouette appeared at the top of

the ladder, but he was much too big to be

Octavian. A smaller shape with wings

fluttered up behind him – a harpy? By the

time Reyna realized what was happening, the

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Cyclops had crossed the deck in two large

strides. He bopped Michael Kahale on the

head. The centurion fell like a sack of rocks.

Dakota and Leila backed away in alarm.

The harpy fluttered to the deckhouse roof.

In the moonlight, her feathers were the col-

our of dried blood.

‘Strong,’ said Ella, preening her wings.

‘Ella’s boyfriend is stronger than Romans.’

‘Friends!’ boomed Tyson the Cyclops. He

scooped up Reyna in one arm and Hedge and

Nico in the other. ‘We have come to save you.

Hooray for us!’

X X X V I I I

Reyna

REYNA HAD NEVER BEEN SO GLAD to see a

Cyclops, at least until Tyson set them down

and wheeled on Leila and Dakota. ‘Bad

Romans!’

‘Tyson, wait!’ Reyna said. ‘Don’t hurt

them!’

Tyson frowned. He was small for a Cyc-

lops, still a child, really – a little over six feet tall, his messy brown hair crusted with salt

water, his big single eye the colour of maple

syrup. He wore only a swimsuit and a flannel

pyjama shirt, like he couldn’t decide whether

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to go swimming or go to sleep. He exuded a

strong smell of peanut butter.

‘They are not bad?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Reyna said. ‘They were following bad

orders. I think they’re sorry for that. Aren’t

you, Dakota?’

Dakota put his arms up so fast he looked

like Superman about to take off. ‘Reyna, I

was trying to clue you in! Leila and I planned

to switch sides and help you take down

Michael.’

‘That’s right!’ Leila almost fell backwards

over the railing. ‘But, before we could, the

Cyclops did it for us!’

Coach Hedge snorted. ‘A likely story!’

Tyson sneezed. ‘Sorry. Goat fur. Itchy

nose. Do we trust Romans?’

‘I do,’ Reyna said. ‘Dakota, Leila, you un-

derstand what our mission is?’

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Leila nodded. ‘You want to return that

statue to the Greeks as a peace offering. Let

us help.’

‘Yeah.’ Dakota nodded vigorously. ‘The le-

gion’s not nearly as united as Michael

claimed. We don’t trust all the auxilia forces Octavian has gathered.’

Nico laughed bitterly. ‘A little late for

doubts. You’re surrounded. As soon as Camp

Half-Blood is destroyed, those allies will turn on you.’

‘So what do we do?’ asked Dakota. ‘We

have an hour at most until sunrise.’

‘Five fifty-two a.m.,’ said Ella, still perched

on the boathouse. ‘Sunrise, Eastern sea-

board, August first. Timetables for Naval

Meteorology. One hour and twelve minutes

is more than one hour.’

Dakota’s eye ticked. ‘I stand corrected.’

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Coach Hedge looked at Tyson. ‘Can we get

into Camp Half-Blood safely? Is Mellie all

right?’

Tyson scratched his chin thoughtfully. ‘She

is very round.’

‘But she’s okay?’ Hedge persisted. ‘She

hasn’t given birth yet?’

‘ “Delivery occurs at the end of the third

trimester”,’ Ella advised. ‘Page forty-three,

The New Mother’s Guide to –’

‘I gotta get over there!’ Hedge looked like

he was ready to jump overboard and swim.

Reyna put her hand on his shoulder.

‘Coach, we’ll get you to your wife, but let’s do

it right. Tyson, how did you and Ella get out

to this ship?’

‘Rainbow!’

‘You … took a rainbow?’

‘He is my fish pony friend.’

‘A hippocampus,’ Nico advised.

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‘I see.’ Reyna thought for a moment.

‘Could you and Ella escort the coach back to

Camp Half-Blood safely?’

‘Yes!’ Tyson said. ‘We can do that!’

‘Good. Coach, go see your wife. Tell the

campers I plan to fly the Athena Parthenos

to Half-Blood Hill at sunrise. It’s a gift from

Rome to Greece, to heal our divisions. If they

could refrain from shooting me out of the

sky, I’d be grateful.’

‘You got it,’ Hedge said. ‘But what about

the Roman legion?’

‘That’s a problem,’ Leila said gravely.

‘Those onagers will blast you out of the sky.’

‘We’ll need a distraction,’ Reyna said. ‘So-

mething to delay the attack on Camp Half-

Blood and preferably put those weapons out

of commission. Dakota, Leila, will your co-

horts follow you?’

‘I – I think so, yes,’ Dakota said. ‘But if we

ask them to commit treason –’

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‘It isn’t treason,’ Leila said. ‘Not if we’re

acting on direct orders from our praetor.

And Reyna is still praetor.’

Reyna turned to Nico. ‘I need you to go

with Dakota and Leila. While they’re stirring

trouble in the ranks, trying to delay the at-

tack, you have to find a way to sabotage

those onagers.’

Nico’s smile made Reyna glad he was on

her side. ‘My pleasure. We’ll buy you time to deliver the Athena Parthenos.’

‘Um …’ Dakota shuffled his feet. ‘Even if

you get the statue to the hill, what’s to stop

Octavian from destroying it once it’s in

place? He’s got lots of firepower, even

without the onagers.’

Reyna peered up at the ivory face of

Athena, veiled beneath camouflage netting.

‘Once the statue is returned to the Greeks … I

think it will be difficult to destroy. It has

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great magic. It has simply chosen not to use

it yet.’

Leila bent down slowly and retrieved her

sword, keeping her eyes on the Athena

Parthenos. ‘I’ll take your word for it. What

do we do with Michael?’

Reyna regarded the snoring mountain of

Hawaiian demigod. ‘Put him in your boat.

Don’t hurt him or bind him. I have a feeling

Michael’s heart is in the right place. He just

had the bad luck of being sponsored by the

wrong person.’

Nico sheathed his black sword. ‘You sure

about this, Reyna? I don’t like leaving you

alone.’

Blackjack whinnied and licked the side of

Nico’s face.

‘Gah! Okay, I’m sorry.’ Nico wiped off the

horse spit. ‘Reyna’s not alone. She’s got a

herd of excellent pegasi.’

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Reyna couldn’t help but smile. ‘I’ll be fine.

With luck, we’ll all meet again soon enough.

We’ll fight side by side against Gaia’s forces.

Be careful, and Ave Romae!’

Dakota and Leila repeated the cheer.

Tyson furrowed his single eyebrow. ‘Who

is Ave?’

‘It means Go, Romans.’ Reyna clapped the

Cyclops’s forearm. ‘But, by all means, Go,

Greeks, too.’ The words sounded strange in

her mouth.

She faced Nico. She wanted to hug him but

wasn’t sure the gesture would be welcome.

She extended her hand. ‘It’s been an honour

questing with you, son of Hades.’

Nico’s grip was strong. ‘You’re the most

courageous demigod I’ve ever met, Reyna. I

–’ He faltered, perhaps realizing he had a

large audience. ‘I won’t let you down. See

you on Half-Blood Hill.’

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The sky began to lighten in the east as the

group dispersed. Soon Reyna stood on the

deck of the Mi Amor … alone except for eight pegasi and a forty-foot-tall Athena.

She tried to steady her nerves. Until Nico,

Dakota and Leila had time to disrupt the le-

gion’s attack, she couldn’t do anything, but

she hated standing around and waiting.

Just over that dark line of hills, her com-

rades in the Twelfth Legion were preparing

for a needless attack. If Reyna had stayed

with them, she could’ve guided them better.

She could’ve kept Octavian in check. Perhaps

the giant Orion was correct: she’d failed in

her duties.

She remembered the ghosts on the balcony

in San Juan – pointing at her, whispering ac-

cusations: Murderer. Traitor. She re-

membered the feel of the golden sabre in her

hand as she slashed down her father’s

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spectre – his face full of outrage and

betrayal.

You are a Ramírez-Arellano! her father

used to rant. Never abandon your post.

Never let anyone in. Above all, never betray

your own!

By helping the Greeks, Reyna had done all

of those things. A Roman was supposed to

destroy her enemies. Instead, Reyna had

joined forces with them. She’d left her legion

in the hands of a madman.

What would her mother say? Bellona, the

war goddess …

Blackjack must have sensed her agitation.

He clopped over and nuzzled her.

She stroked his muzzle. ‘I don’t have any

treats for you, boy.’

He bumped her affectionately. Nico had

told her that Blackjack was Percy’s usual

ride, but he seemed friendly to everyone.

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He’d carried the son of Hades without

protest. Now he was comforting a Roman.

She wrapped her arms around his power-

full neck. His coat smelled just like Scipio’s –

a mixture of fresh-cut grass and warm bread.

She let loose a sob that had been building in

her chest. As praetor, she couldn’t show

weakness or fear to her comrades. She had to

stay strong. But the horse didn’t seem to

mind.

He nickered gently. Reyna couldn’t under-

stand Horse, but he seemed to say, It’s all

right. You’ve done well.

She looked up at the fading stars.

‘Mother,’ she said, ‘I haven’t prayed to you

enough. I’ve never met you. I’ve never asked

for your help. But please … this morning,

give me the strength to do what is right.’

As if on cue, something flashed on the

eastern horizon – a light across the Sound,

approaching fast like another speedboat.

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For one elated moment, Reyna thought it

was a sign from Bellona.

The dark shape got closer. Reyna’s hope

turned to dread. She waited too long, para-

lysed with disbelief, as the figure resolved in-

to a large humanoid, running towards her

across the surface of the water.

The first arrow struck Blackjack’s flank.

The horse collapsed with a shriek of pain.

Reyna screamed, but, before she could

move, a second arrow hit the deck between

her feet. Attached to its shaft was a glowing

LED read-out the size of a wristwatch, count-

ing down from 5:00.

4:59.

4:58.

X X X I X

Reyna

‘I WOULDN’T MOVE, PRAETOR!’

Orion stood on the surface of the water,

fifty feet to starboard, an arrow nocked in his

bow.

Through Reyna’s haze of rage and grief,

she noticed the giant’s new scars. His fight

with the Hunters had left him with mottled

grey and pink scar tissue on his arms and

face, so he looked like a bruised peach in the

process of rotting. The mechanical eye on his

left side was dark. His hair had burned away,

leaving only ragged patches. His nose was

swollen and red from the bowstring that

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Nico had snapped in his face. All of this gave

Reyna a twinge of dark satisfaction.

Regrettably, the giant still had his smug

smile.

At Reyna’s feet, the timer on the arrow

read: 4:42.

‘Explosive arrows are very touchy,’ said

Orion. ‘Once they’re embedded, even the

slightest motion can set them off. I wouldn’t

want you to miss the last four minutes of

your life.’

Reyna’s senses sharpened. The pegasi

clopped nervously around the Athena

Parthenos. Dawn began to break. The wind

from the shore brought a faint scent of

strawberries. Lying next to her on the deck,

Blackjack wheezed and shuddered – still

alive, but badly wounded.

Her heart pounded so hard she thought

her eardrums might burst. She extended her

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strength to Blackjack, trying to keep him

alive. She would not see him die.

She wanted to shout insults at the giant,

but her first words were surprisingly calm.

‘What of my sister?’

Orion’s white teeth flashed in his ruined

face. ‘I would love to tell you she is dead. I

would love to see the pain on your face. Alas,

as far as I know, your sister still lives. So do

Thalia Grace and her annoying Hunters.

They surprised me, I’ll admit. I was forced

into the sea to escape them. For the past few

days I have been wounded and in pain, heal-

ing slowly, building a new bow. But don’t

worry, Praetor. You will die first. Your pre-

cious statue will be burned in a great con-

flagration. After Gaia has risen, when the

mortal world is ending, I will find your sister.

I will tell her you died painfully. Then I will

kill her.’ He grinned. ‘So all is well!’

4:04.

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Hylla was alive. Thalia and the Hunters

were still out there somewhere. But none of

that would matter if Reyna’s mission failed.

The sun was rising on the last day of the

world …

Blackjack’s breathing became more

laboured.

Reyna mustered her courage. The winged

horse needed her. Lord Pegasus had named

her Horse Friend, and she would not let him

down. She couldn’t think about the entire

world right now. She had to concentrate on

what was right next to her.

3:54.

‘So.’ She glared at Orion. ‘You’re damaged

and ugly, but not dead. I suppose that means

I’ll need the help of a god to kill you.’

Orion chuckled. ‘Sadly, you Romans have

never been very good at summoning gods to

your aid. I guess they don’t think much of

you, eh?’

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Reyna was tempted to agree. She had

prayed to her mother … and been blessed

with the arrival of a homicidal giant. Not ex-

actly a ringing endorsement.

And yet …

Reyna laughed. ‘Ah, Orion.’

The giant’s smile wavered. ‘You have a

strange sense of humour, girl. What are you

laughing about?’

‘Bellona has answered my prayer. She

doesn’t fight my battles for me. She doesn’t

guarantee me easy victory. She grants me op-

portunities to prove myself. She gives me

strong enemies and potential allies.’

Orion’s left eye sparked. ‘You speak non-

sense. A column of fire is about to destroy

you and your precious Greek statue. No ally

can help you. Your mother has abandoned

you as you abandoned your legion.’

‘But she hasn’t,’ Reyna said. ‘Bellona

wasn’t just a war goddess. She wasn’t like the

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Greek Enyo, who was simply an embodiment

of carnage. Bellona’s Temple was where Ro-

mans greeted foreign ambassadors. Wars

were declared there, but peace treaties were also negotiated – lasting peace, based on

strength.’

3:01.

Reyna drew her knife. ‘Bellona gave me

the chance to make peace with the Greeks

and increase the strength of Rome. I took it.

If I die, I will die defending that cause. So I

say my mother is with me today. She will add her strength to mine. Shoot your arrow, Orion. It won’t matter. When I throw this blade

and pierce your heart, you will die.’

Orion stood motionless on the waves. His

face was a mask of concentration. His one

good eye blinked amber.

‘A bluff,’ he growled. ‘I’ve killed hundreds

like you: girls playing at war, pretending they

are the equal to giants! I will not grant you a

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quick death, Praetor. I will watch you burn,

the way the Hunters burned me.’

2:31.

Blackjack wheezed, kicking his legs against

the deck. The sky was turning pink. A wind

from the shore caught the camouflage net-

ting on the Athena Parthenos and stripped it

away, sending the silvery cloth rippling

across the Sound. The Athena Parthenos

gleamed in the early light, and Reyna

thought how beautiful the goddess would

look on the hill above the Greek camp.

It must happen, she thought, hoping the

pegasi could sense her intentions. You must

complete the journey without me.

She inclined her head to the Athena

Parthenos. ‘My lady, it has been my honour

to escort you.’

Orion scoffed. ‘Talking to enemy statues

now? Futile. You have roughly two minutes

of life.’

701/982

‘Oh, but I don’t abide by your time frame, giant,’ Reyna said. ‘A Roman does not wait

for death. She seeks it out and meets it on

her own terms.’

She threw her knife. It hit true – right in

the middle of the giant’s chest.

Orion bellowed in agony, and Reyna

thought what a pleasing last sound that was

to hear.

She flung her cloak in front of her and fell

on the explosive arrow, determined to shield

Blackjack and the other pegasi and hopefully

protect the mortals sleeping belowdecks. She

had no idea whether her body would contain

the explosion, whether her cloak could

smother the flames, but it was her best

chance to save her friends and her mission.

She tensed, waiting to die. She felt the

pressure as the arrow detonated … but it

wasn’t what she expected. Against her ribs,

the explosion made only the smallest pop,

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like an overinflated balloon. Her cloak be-

came uncomfortably warm. No flames burst

forth.

Why was she still alive?

Rise, said a voice in her head.

In a trance, Reyna got to her feet. Smoke

curled from the edges of her cloak. She real-

ized something was different about the

purple fabric. It glittered as if woven through

with filaments of Imperial gold. At her feet, a

section of the deck had been reduced to a

circle of charcoal, but her cloak wasn’t even

singed.

Accept my aegis, Reyna Ramírez-Arel-

lano, said the voice. For today, you have proven yourself a hero of Olympus.

Reyna stared in amazement at the Athena

Parthenos, glowing with a faint golden aura.

The aegis … From Reyna’s years of study,

she recalled that the term aegis didn’t apply only to Athena’s shield. It also meant the

703/982

goddess’s cloak. According to legend, Athena

sometimes cut pieces off her mantle and

draped them over statues in her temples, or

over her chosen heroes, to shield them.

Reyna’s cloak, which she’d worn for years,

had suddenly changed. It had absorbed the

explosion.

She tried to say something, to thank the

goddess, but her voice wouldn’t work. The

statue’s glowing aura faded. The ringing in

Reyna’s ears cleared. She became aware of

Orion, still roaring in pain as he staggered

across the surface of the water.

‘You have failed!’ He clawed her knife from

his chest and tossed it into the waves. ‘I still

live!’

He drew his bow and fired, but it seemed

to happen in slow motion. Reyna swept her

cloak in front of her. The arrow shattered

against the cloth. She charged to the railing

and leaped at the giant.

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The jump should have been impossibly far,

but Reyna felt a surge of power in her limbs,

as if her mother, Bellona, was lending her

strength – a return for all the strength Reyna

had lent others over the years.

Reyna grabbed the giant’s bow and swung

around on it like a gymnast, landing on the

giant’s back. She locked her legs around his

waist, then twisted her cloak into a rope and

pulled it across Orion’s neck with all her

might.

He instinctively dropped his bow. He

clutched at the glimmering fabric, but his

fingers steamed and blistered when he

touched it. Sour, acrid smoke rose from his

neck.

Reyna pulled tighter.

‘This is for Phoebe,’ she snarled in his ear.

‘For Kinzie. For all those you killed. You will

die at the hands of a girl.’

705/982

Orion thrashed and fought, but Reyna’s

will was unshakable. The power of Athena

infused her cloak. Bellona blessed her with

strength and resolve. Not one but two

powerful goddesses aided her, yet the kill

was for Reyna to complete.

Complete it she did.

The giant crumpled to his knees and sank

in the water. Reyna didn’t let go until he

ceased to thrash and his body dissolved into

sea foam. His mechanical eye disappeared

beneath the waves. His bow began to sink.

Reyna let it. She had no interest in spoils

of war – no desire to let any part of the giant

survive. Like her father’s mania – and all the other angry ghosts of her past – Orion could

teach her nothing. He deserved to be

forgotten.

Besides, dawn was breaking.

Reyna swam for the yacht.

X ll

Reyna

NO TIME FOR ENJOYING HER VICTORY OVER

ORION.

Blackjack’s muzzle was foaming. His legs

spasmed. Blood trickled from the arrow

wound in his flank.

Reyna ripped through the supply bag that

Phoebe had given her. She swabbed the

wound with healing potion. She poured uni-

corn draught over the blade of her silver

pocketknife.

‘Please, please,’ she murmured to herself.

In truth, she had no idea what she was do-

ing, but she cleaned the wound as best she

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could and gripped the shaft of the arrow. If it

had a barbed tip, pulling it out might cause

more damage. But, if it was poisoned, she

couldn’t leave it in. Nor could she push it

through, since it was embedded in the

middle of his body. She would have to choose

the lesser evil.

‘This will hurt, my friend,’ she told

Blackjack.

He huffed, as if to say, Tell me something I

don’t know.

With her knife, she cut a slit on either side

of the wound. She pulled out the arrow.

Blackjack shrieked, but the arrow came out

cleanly. The point wasn’t barbed. It could

have been poisoned, but there was no way to

be sure. One problem at a time.

Reyna poured more healing potion over

the wound and bandaged it. She applied

pressure, counting under her breath. The

oozing seemed to lessen.

709/982

She trickled unicorn draught into Black-

jack’s mouth.

She lost track of time. The horse’s pulse

became stronger and steadier. His eyes

cleared of pain. His breathing eased.

By the time Reyna stood up, she was shak-

ing with fear and exhaustion, but Blackjack

was still alive.

‘You’re going to be fine,’ she promised. ‘I’ll

get you help from Camp Half-Blood.’

Blackjack made a grumbling sound. Reyna

could’ve sworn he tried to say doughnuts.

She must have been going delirious.

Belatedly, she realized how much the sky

had lightened. The Athena Parthenos

gleamed in the sun. Guido and the other

winged horses pawed the deck impatiently.

‘The battle …’ Reyna turned towards the

shore but saw no signs of combat. A Greek

trireme bobbed lazily in the morning tide.

The hills looked green and peaceful.

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For a moment, she wondered if the Ro-

mans had decided not to attack.

Perhaps Octavian had come to his senses.

Perhaps Nico and the others had managed to

win over the legion.

Then an orange glow illuminated the hill-

tops. Multiple streaks of fire climbed sky-

ward like burning fingers.

The onagers had shot their first volley.

X ll I

Piper

PIPER WASN’T SURPRISED when the snake

people arrived.

All week, she’d been thinking about her

encounter with Sciron the bandit, when

she’d stood on the deck of the Argo II after escaping a gigantic Destructo-Turtle and

made the mistake of saying, ‘We’re safe.’

Instantly an arrow had hit the mainmast,

an inch in front of her nose.

Piper learned a valuable lesson from that:

never assume you’re safe, and never, ever

tempt the Fates by announcing that you

think you’re safe.

713/982

So when the ship docked at the harbour in

Piraeus, on the outskirts of Athens, Piper

resisted the urge to breathe a sigh of relief.

Sure, they had finally reached their destina-

tion. Somewhere nearby – past those rows of

cruise ships, past those hills crowded with

buildings – they would find the Acropolis.

Today, one way or another, their journey

would end.

But that didn’t mean she could relax. Any

moment, a nasty surprise might come flying

out of nowhere.

As it turned out, the surprise was three

dudes with snake tails instead of legs.

Piper was on watch while her friends

geared up for combat – checking their

weapons and armour, loading the ballistae

and catapults. She spotted the snake guys

slithering along the docks, winding through

crowds of mortal tourists who paid them no

attention.

714/982

‘Um … Annabeth?’ Piper called.

Annabeth and Percy came to her side.

‘Oh, great,’ Percy said. ‘ Dracaenae. ’

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. ‘I don’t think

so. At least not like any I’ve seen. Dracaenae have two serpent trunks for legs. These guys

just have one.’

‘You’re right,’ Percy said. ‘These look more

human on top, too. Not all scaly and green

and stuff. So do we talk or fight?’

Piper was tempted to say fight. She

couldn’t help thinking of the story she’d told

Jason – about the Cherokee hunter who had

broken his taboo and turned into a snake.

These three looked like they’d been eating a

lot of squirrel meat.

Weirdly, the one in the lead reminded

Piper of her dad when he’d grown a beard for

his role in King of Sparta. The snake man

held his head high. His face was chiselled

and bronze, his eyes black as basalt, his curly

715/982

dark hair glistening with oil. His upper body

rippled with muscles, covered only by a

Greek chlamys – a white wool cloak loosely wrapped and pinned at the shoulder. From

the waist down, his body was one giant ser-

pent trunk – about eight feet of green tail un-

dulating behind him as he moved.

In one hand he carried a staff topped with

a glowing green jewel. In his other, he car-

ried a platter covered with a silver dome, like

a main course for a fancy dinner.

The two guys behind him appeared to be

guards. They wore bronze breastplates and

elaborate helmets topped with horsehair

bristles. Their spears were tipped with green

stone points. Their oval shields were em-

blazoned with a large Greek letter K –

kappa.

They stopped a few yards from the Argo II.

The leader looked up and studied the demi-

gods. His expression was intense but

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inscrutable. He might have been angry or

worried or terribly in need of a restroom.

‘Permission to come aboard.’ His rasping

voice made Piper think of a straight razor be-

ing wiped across a strop – like in her grand-

father’s barbershop back in Oklahoma.

‘Who are you?’ she asked.

He fixed his dark eyes on her. ‘I am Kek-

rops, the first and eternal king of Athens. I would welcome you to my city.’ He held up

the covered platter. ‘Also, I brought a Bundt

cake.’

Piper glanced at her friends. ‘A trick?’

‘Probably,’ Annabeth said.

‘At least he brought dessert.’ Percy smiled

down at the snake guys. ‘Welcome aboard!’

Kekrops agreed to leave his guards above

deck with Buford the table, who ordered

them to drop and give him twenty push-ups.

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The guards seemed to take this as a

challenge.

Meanwhile, the king of Athens was invited

to the mess hall for a ‘get to know you’

meeting.

‘Please take a seat,’ Jason offered.

Kekrops wrinkled his nose. ‘Snake people

do not sit.’

‘Please remain standing,’ Leo said. He cut

the cake and stuffed a piece in his mouth be-

fore Piper could warn him it might be

poisoned, or inedible for mortals, or just

plain bad.

‘Dang!’ He grinned. ‘Snake people know

how to make Bundt cake. Kind of orangey,

with a hint of honey. Needs a glass of milk.’

‘Snake people do not drink milk,’ Kekrops

said. ‘We are lactose-intolerant reptiles.’

‘Me, too!’ Frank said. ‘I mean … lactose in-

tolerant. Not a reptile. Though I can be a reptile sometimes –’

718/982

‘Anyway,’ Hazel interrupted, ‘King Kek-

rops, what brings you here? How did you

know we’d arrived?’

‘I know everything that happens in

Athens,’ Kekrops said. ‘I was the city’s

founder, its first king, born of the earth. I am

the one who judged the dispute between

Athena and Poseidon, and chose Athena to

be the patron of the city.’

‘No hard feelings, though,’ Percy muttered.

Annabeth elbowed him. ‘I’ve heard of you,

Kekrops. You were the first to offer sacrifices

to Athena. You built her first shrine on the

Acropolis.’

‘Correct.’ Kekrops sounded bitter, like he

regretted his decision. ‘My people were the

original Athenians – the gemini.’

‘Like your zodiac sign?’ Percy asked. ‘I’m a

Leo.’

‘No, stupid,’ Leo said. ‘I’m a Leo. You’re a

Percy.’

719/982

‘Will you two stop it?’ Hazel chided. ‘I

think he means gemini like doubled – half man, half snake. That’s what his people are

called. He’s a geminus, singular.’

‘Yes …’ Kekrops leaned away from Hazel as

if she somehow offended him. ‘Millennia

ago, we were driven underground by the

two-legged humans, but I know the ways of

the city better than any. I came to warn you.

If you try to approach the Acropolis above-

ground, you will be destroyed.’

Jason stopped nibbling his cake. ‘You

mean … by you?’

‘By Porphyrion’s armies,’ said the snake

king. ‘The Acropolis is ringed with great

siege weapons – onagers.’

‘ More onagers?’ Frank protested. ‘Did they have a sale on them or something?’

‘The Cyclopes,’ Hazel guessed. ‘They’re

supplying both Octavian and the giants.’

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Percy grunted. ‘Like we needed more proof

that Octavian is on the wrong side.’

‘That is not the only threat,’ Kekrops

warned. ‘The air is filled with storm spirits

and gryphons. All roads to the Acropolis are

patrolled by the Earthborn.’

Frank drummed his fingers on the Bundt

cake cover. ‘So, what, we should just give up?

We’ve come too far for that.’

‘I offer you an alternative,’ said Kekrops.

‘Underground passage to the Acropolis. For

the sake of Athena, for the sake of the gods, I

will help you.’

The back of Piper’s neck tingled. She re-

membered what the giantess Periboia had

said in her dream: that the demigods would

find friends in Athens as well as enemies.

Perhaps the giantess had meant Kekrops and

his snake people. But there was something in

Kekrops’s voice that Piper didn’t like – that

721/982

razor-against-strop tone, as if he were pre-

paring to make a sharp cut.

‘What’s the catch?’ she asked.

Kekrops turned those inscrutable dark

eyes on her. ‘Only a small party of demigods

– no more than three – could pass undetec-

ted by the giants. Otherwise your scent

would give you away. But our underground

passages could lead you straight into the ru-

ins of the Acropolis. Once there, you could

disable the siege weapons by stealth and al-

low the rest of your crew to approach. With

luck, you could take the giants by surprise.

You might be able to disrupt their ceremony.’

‘Ceremony?’ Leo asked. ‘Oh … like, to wake

Gaia.’

‘Even now it has begun,’ Kekrops warned.

‘Can you not feel the earth trembling? We,

the gemini, are your best chance.’

Piper heard eagerness in his voice – al-

most hunger.

722/982

Percy looked around the table. ‘Any

objections?’

‘Just a few,’ Jason said. ‘We’re on the en-

emy’s doorstep. We’re being asked to split

up. Isn’t that how people get killed in horror

movies?’

‘Also,’ Percy said, ‘Gaia wants us to reach the Parthenon. She wants our blood to water

the stones and all that other psycho garbage.

Won’t we be playing right into her hands?’

Annabeth caught Piper’s eye. She asked a

silent question: What’s your feeling?

Piper still wasn’t used to that – the way

Annabeth looked to her for advice now. Ever

since Sparta, they’d learned that they could

tackle problems together from two different

sides. Annabeth saw the logical thing, the

tactical move. Piper had gut reactions that

were anything but logical. Together, they

either solved the problem twice as fast, or

they hopelessly confused each other.

723/982

Kekrops’s offer made sense. At least, it

sounded like the least suicidal option. But

Piper was certain the snake king was hiding

his true intentions. She just didn’t know how

to prove it …

Then she remembered something her fath-

er had told her years ago: You were named

Piper because Grandpa Tom thought you

would have a powerful voice. You would

learn all the Cherokee songs, even the song

of the snakes.

A myth from a totally different culture, yet

here she was, facing the king of the snake

people.

She began to sing: ‘Summertime’, one of

her dad’s favourites.

Kekrops stared at her in wonder. He began

to sway.

At first Piper was self-conscious, singing in

front of all her friends and a snake guy. Her

dad had always told her she had a good

724/982

voice, but she didn’t like to draw attention to

herself. She didn’t even like to participate at

campfire sing-alongs. Now her words filled

the mess hall. Everyone listened, transfixed.

She finished the first verse. No one spoke

for a count of five.

‘Pipes,’ Jason said, ‘I had no idea.’

‘That was beautiful,’ Leo agreed. ‘Maybe

not … you know, Calypso beautiful, but still

…’

Piper kept the snake king’s gaze. ‘What are

your real intentions?’

‘To deceive you,’ he said in a trance, still

swaying. ‘We hope to lead you into the tun-

nels and destroy you.’

‘Why?’ Piper asked.

‘The Earth Mother has promised us great

rewards. If we spill your blood under the

Parthenon, that will be sufficient to complete

her awakening.’

725/982

‘But you serve Athena,’ Piper said. ‘You

founded her city.’

Kekrops made a low hiss. ‘And in return

the goddess abandoned me. Athena replaced

me with a two-legged human king. She drove my daughters mad. They leaped to their

deaths from the cliffs of the Acropolis. The

original Athenians, the gemini, were driven underground and forgotten. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, turned her back on us, but

wisdom comes from the earth as well. We

are, first and last, the children of Gaia. The

Earth Mother has promised us a place in the

sun of the upper world.’

‘Gaia is lying,’ Piper said. ‘She intends to

destroy the upper world, not give it to

anyone.’

Kekrops bared his fangs. ‘Then we will be

no worse off than we were under the treach-

erous gods!’

726/982

He raised his staff, but Piper launched into

another verse of ‘Summertime’.

The snake king’s arms went limp. His eyes

glassed over.

Piper sang a few more lines, then she

risked another question: ‘The giants’ de-

fences, the underground passage to the Acro-

polis – how much of what you told us is

true?’

‘All of it,’ Kekrops said. ‘The Acropolis is

heavily defended, just as I described. Any ap-

proach aboveground would be impossible.’

‘So you could guide us through your tun-

nels,’ Piper said. ‘That’s also true?’

Kekrops frowned. ‘Yes …’

‘And if you ordered your people not to at-

tack us,’ she said, ‘they would obey?’

‘Yes, but …’ Kekrops shuddered. ‘Yes, they

would obey. Three of you at most could go

without attracting the attention of the

giants.’

727/982

Annabeth’s eyes darkened. ‘Piper, we’d be

crazy to try it. He’ll kill us at the first

opportunity.’

‘Yes,’ the snake king agreed. ‘Only this

girl’s music controls me. I hate it. Please,

sing some more.’

Piper gave him another verse.

Leo got into the act. He picked up a couple

of spoons and made them do high kicks on

the tabletop until Hazel slapped his arm.

‘I should go,’ Hazel said, ‘if it’s

underground.’

‘Never,’ Kekrops said. ‘A child of the

Underworld? My people would find your

presence revolting. No charming music

would keep them from slaying you.’

Hazel swallowed. ‘Or I could stay here.’

‘Me and Percy,’ Annabeth suggested.

‘Um …’ Percy raised his hand. ‘Just gonna

throw this out here again. That’s exactly

728/982

what Gaia wants – you and me, our blood

watering the stones, et cetera.’

‘I know.’ Annabeth’s expression was grim.

‘But it’s the most logical choice. The oldest

shrines on the Acropolis are dedicated to Po-

seidon and Athena. Kekrops, wouldn’t that

mask our approach?’

‘Yes,’ the snake king admitted. ‘Your …

your scent would be difficult to discern. The

ruins always radiate the power of those two

gods.’

‘And me,’ Piper said at the end of her song.

‘You’ll need me to keep our friend here in

line.’

Jason squeezed her hand. ‘I still hate the

idea of splitting up.’

‘But it’s our best shot,’ Frank said. ‘The

three of them sneak in and disable the on-

agers, cause a distraction. Then the rest of us

fly in with ballistae blazing.’

729/982

‘Yes,’ Kekrops said, ‘that plan could work.

If I do not kill you first.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Annabeth said. ‘Frank,

Hazel, Leo … let’s talk. Piper, can you keep

our friend musically incapacitated?’

Piper started a different song: ‘Happy

Trails’, a silly tune her dad used to sing to

her whenever they left Oklahoma to return to

ll.A. Annabeth, Leo, Frank and Hazel left to

talk strategy.

‘Well.’ Percy rose and offered his hand to

Jason. ‘Until we meet again at the Acropolis,

bro. I’ll be the one killing giants.’

X ll I I

Piper

PIPER’S DAD USED TO SAY that being in the

airport didn’t count as visiting a city. Piper

felt the same way about sewers.

From the port to the Acropolis, she didn’t

see anything of Athens except dark, putrid

tunnels. The snake men led them through an

iron storm grate at the docks, straight into

their underground lair, which smelled of rot-

ting fish, mould and snakeskin.

The atmosphere made it hard to sing

about summertime and cotton and easy liv-

ing, but Piper kept it up. If she stopped for

732/982

longer than a minute or two, Kekrops and his

guards started hissing and looking angry.

‘I don’t like this place,’ Annabeth mur-

mured. ‘Reminds me of when I was under-

neath Rome.’

Kekrops hissed with laughter. ‘Our domain

is much older. Much, much older.’

Annabeth slipped her hand into Percy’s,

which made Piper feel downhearted. She

wished Jason were with her. Heck, she’d

even settle for Leo … though maybe she

wouldn’t have held his hand. Leo’s hands

tended to burst into flames when he was

nervous.

Piper’s voice echoed through the tunnels.

As they travelled further into the lair, more

snake people gathered to hear her. Soon they

had a procession following behind them –

dozens of gemini all swaying and slithering.

Piper had lived up to her granddad’s pre-

diction. She had learned the song of the

733/982

snakes – which turned out to be a George

Gershwin number from 1935. So far she had

even kept the snake king from biting, just

like in the old Cherokee story. The only prob-

lem with that legend: the warrior who

learned the snake song had to sacrifice his

wife for the power. Piper didn’t want to sac-

rifice anyone.

The vial of physician’s cure was still

wrapped in its chamois cloth, tucked in her

belt pouch. She hadn’t had time to consult

with Jason and Leo before she left. She just

had to hope they would all be reunited on the

hilltop before anyone needed the cure. If one

of them died and she couldn’t reach them …

Just keep singing, she told herself.

They passed through crude stone cham-

bers littered with bones. They climbed slopes

so steep and slippery it was nearly im-

possible to keep their footing. At one point,

they passed a warm cave the size of a

734/982

gymnasium filled with snake eggs, their tops

covered with a layer of silver filaments like

slimy Christmas tinsel.

More and more snake people joined their

procession. Slithering behind her, they soun-

ded like an army of football players shuffling

with sandpaper on their cleats.

Piper wondered how many gemini lived

down here. Hundreds, maybe thousands.

She thought she heard her own heartbeat

echoing through the corridors, getting louder

and louder the deeper they went. Then she

realized the persistent boom ba-boom was

all around them, resonating through the

stone and the air.

I wake. A woman’s voice, as clear as

Piper’s singing.

Annabeth froze. ‘Oh, that’s not good.’

‘It’s like Tartarus,’ Percy said, his voice

edgy. ‘You remember … his heartbeat. When

he appeared –’

735/982

‘Don’t,’ Annabeth said. ‘Just don’t.’

‘Sorry.’ In the light of his sword, Percy’s

face was like a large firefly – a hovering, mo-

mentary smudge of brightness in the dark.

The voice of Gaia spoke again, louder: At

last.

Piper’s singing wavered.

Fear washed over her, as it had in the

Spartan temple. But the gods Phobos and

Deimos were old friends to her now. She let

the fear burn inside her like fuel, making her

voice even stronger. She sang for the snake

people, for her friends’ safety. Why not for

Gaia, too?

Finally they reached the top of a steep

slope, where the path ended in a curtain of

green goo.

Kekrops faced the demigods. ‘Beyond this

camouflage is the Acropolis. You must re-

main here. I will check that your way is

clear.’

736/982

‘Wait.’ Piper turned to address the crowd

of gemini. ‘There is only death above. You

will be safer in the tunnels. Hurry back. For-

get you saw us. Protect yourselves.’

The fear in her voice channelled perfectly

with the charmspeak. The snake people, even

the guards, turned and slithered into the

darkness, leaving only the king.

‘Kekrops,’ Piper said, ‘you’re planning to

betray us as soon as you step through that

goo.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I will alert the giants.

They will destroy you.’ Then he hissed. ‘Why

did I tell you that?’

‘Listen to the heartbeat of Gaia,’ Piper

urged. ‘You can sense her rage, can’t you?’

Kekrops wavered. The end of his staff

glowed dimly. ‘I can, yes. She is angry.’

‘She’ll destroy everything,’ Piper said.

‘She’ll reduce the Acropolis to a smoking

crater. Athens – your city – will be utterly

737/982

destroyed, your people along with it. You be-

lieve me, don’t you?’

‘I – I do.’

‘Whatever hatred you have for humans, for

demigods, for Athena, we are the only

chance to stop Gaia. So you will not betray us. For your own sake, and your people, you

will scout the territory and make sure the

way is clear. You will say nothing to the gi-

ants. Then you will return.’

‘That is … what I’ll do.’ Kekrops disap-

peared through the membrane of goo.

Annabeth shook her head in amazement.

‘Piper, that was incredible.’

‘We’ll see if it works.’ Piper sat down on

the cool stone floor. She figured she might as

well rest while she could.

The others squatted next to her. Percy

handed her a canteen of water.

Until she took a drink, Piper hadn’t real-

ized how dry her throat was. ‘Thanks.’

738/982

Percy nodded. ‘You think the charm will

last?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she admitted. ‘If Kekrops

comes back in two minutes with an army of

giants, then no.’

The heartbeat of Gaia echoed through the

floor. Strangely, it made Piper think of the

sea – how the waves boomed along the cliffs

of Santa Monica back home.

She wondered what her father was doing

right now. It would be the middle of the

night in California. Maybe he was asleep, or

doing a late-night TV interview. Piper hoped

he was in his favourite spot: the porch off the

living room, watching the moon over the Pa-

cific, enjoying some quiet time. Piper wanted

to think he was happy and content right now

… in case they failed.

She thought about her friends in the Aph-

rodite cabin at Camp Half-Blood. She

thought about her cousins in Oklahoma,

739/982

which was odd, since she’d never spent much

time with them. She didn’t even know them

very well. Now she was sorry about that.

She wished she’d taken more advantage of

her life, appreciated things more. She would

always be grateful for her family aboard the

Argo II – but she had so many other friends and relatives she wished she could see one

last time.

‘Do you guys ever think about your famil-

ies?’ she asked.

It was a silly question, especially on the

cusp of a battle. Piper should have been fo-

cused on their quest, not distracting her

friends.

But they didn’t chide her.

Percy’s gaze became unfocused. His lower

lip quivered. ‘My mom … I – I haven’t even

seen her since Hera made me disappear. I

called her from Alaska. I gave Coach Hedge

some letters to deliver to her. I …’ His voice

740/982

broke. ‘She’s all I’ve got. Her and my step-

dad, Paul.’

‘And Tyson,’ Annabeth reminded him.

‘And Grover. And –’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Percy said. ‘Thanks. I feel

much better.’

Piper probably shouldn’t have laughed,

but she was too full of nervousness and mel-

ancholy to hold it in. ‘What about you,

Annabeth?’

‘My dad … my stepmom and stepbrothers.’

She turned the drakon-bone blade in her lap.

‘After all I’ve been through in the past year, it

seems stupid that I resented them for so

long. And my dad’s relatives … I haven’t

thought about them in years. I have an uncle

and cousin in Boston.’

Percy looked shocked. ‘You, with the Yan-

kees cap? You’ve got family in Red Sox

country?’

741/982

Annabeth smiled weakly. ‘I never see

them. My dad and my uncle don’t get along.

Some old rivalry. I don’t know. It’s stupid

what keeps people apart.’

Piper nodded. She wished she had the

healing powers of Asclepius. She wished she

could look at people and see what was hurt-

ing them, then whip out her prescription pad

and make everything better. But she guessed

there was a reason Zeus kept Asclepius

locked away in his underground temple.

Some pain shouldn’t be wished away so

easily. It had to be dealt with, even em-

braced. Without the agony of the last few

months, Piper never would have found her

best friends, Hazel and Annabeth. She never

would’ve discovered her own courage. She

certainly wouldn’t have had the guts to sing

show tunes to the snake people under

Athens.

742/982

At the top of the tunnel, the green mem-

brane rippled.

Piper grabbed her sword and rose, pre-

pared for a flood of monsters.

But Kekrops emerged alone.

‘The way is clear,’ he said. ‘But hurry. The

ceremony is almost complete.’

Pushing through a curtain of mucus was al-

most as fun as Piper imagined.

She emerged feeling like she’d just rolled

through a giant’s nostril. Fortunately, none

of the gunk stuck to her, but still her skin

tingled with revulsion.

Percy, Annabeth and she found themselves

in a cool, damp pit that seemed to be the

basement level of a temple. All around them,

uneven ground stretched into darkness un-

der a low ceiling of stone. Directly above

their heads, a rectangular gap was open to

the sky. Piper could see the edges of walls

743/982

and the tops of columns, but no monsters …

yet.

The camouflage membrane had closed be-

hind them and blended into the ground.

Piper pressed her hand against it. The area

seemed to be solid rock. They wouldn’t be

leaving the way they’d come.

Annabeth ran her hand along some marks

on the ground – a jagged crow’s-foot shape

as long as a human body. The area was

lumpy and white, like stone scar tissue. ‘This

is the place,’ she said. ‘Percy, these are the

trident marks of Poseidon.’

Hesitantly, Percy touched the scars. ‘He

must’ve been using his extra-extra-large

trident.’

‘This is where he struck the earth,’ Anna-

beth said, ‘where he made a saltwater spring

appear when he had the contest with my

mom to sponsor Athens.’

744/982

‘So this is where the rivalry started,’ Percy

said.

‘Yeah.’

Percy pulled Annabeth close and kissed

her … long enough for it to get really awk-

ward for Piper, though she said nothing. She

thought about the old rule of Aphrodite’s

cabin: that to be recognized as a daughter of

the love goddess, you had to break

someone’s heart. Piper had long ago decided

to change that rule. Percy and Annabeth

were a perfect example of why. You should

have to make someone’s heart whole; that

was a much better test.

When Percy pulled away, Annabeth looked

like a fish gasping for air.

‘The rivalry ends here,’ Percy said. ‘I love

you, Wise Girl.’

Annabeth made a little sigh, like

something in her ribcage had melted.

745/982

Percy glanced at Piper. ‘Sorry, I had to do

that.’

Piper grinned. ‘How could a daughter of

Aphrodite not approve? You’re a great

boyfriend.’

Annabeth made another grunt-whimper.

‘Uh … anyway. We’re beneath the Erech-

theion. It’s a temple to both Athena and Pos-

eidon. The Parthenon should be diagonally

to the southeast of here. We’ll need to sneak

around the perimeter and disable as many

siege weapons as we can, make an approach

path for the Argo II.’

‘It’s broad daylight,’ Piper said. ‘How will

we go unnoticed?’

Annabeth scanned the sky. ‘That’s why I

made a plan with Frank and Hazel. Hope-

fully … ah. Look.’

A bee zipped overhead. Dozens more fol-

lowed. They swarmed around a column, then

hovered over the opening of the pit.

746/982

‘Say hi to Frank, everybody,’ Annabeth

said.

Piper waved. The cloud of bees zipped

away.

‘How does that even work?’ Percy said.

‘Like … one bee is a finger? Two bees are his

eyes?’

‘I don’t know,’ Annabeth admitted. ‘But

he’s our go-between. As soon as he gives

Hazel the word, she will –’

‘Gah!’ Percy yelped.

Annabeth clamped her hand over his

mouth.

Which looked strange, because suddenly

each of them had turned into a hulking, six-

armed Earthborn.

‘Hazel’s Mist.’ Piper’s voice sounded deep

and gravelly. She looked down and realized

that she, too, now had a lovely Neanderthal

body – belly hair, loincloth, stubby legs and

oversized feet. If she concentrated, she could

747/982

see her normal arms, but when she moved

them they rippled like mirages, separating

into three different sets of muscular Earth-

born arms.

Percy grimaced, which looked even worse

on his newly uglified face. ‘Wow, Annabeth

… I’m really glad I kissed you before you

changed.’

‘Thanks a lot,’ she said. ‘We should get go-

ing. I’ll move clockwise around the perimet-

er. Piper, you move counterclockwise. Percy,

you scout the middle –’

‘Wait,’ Percy said. ‘We’re walking right in-

to the whole blood-spilling sacrifice trap

we’ve been warned about, and you want to

split up even more?’

‘We’ll cover more ground that way,’ Anna-

beth said. ‘We have to hurry. That chanting

…’

Piper hadn’t noticed it until then, but now

she heard it: an ominous drone in the

748/982

distance, like a hundred forklifts idling. She

looked at the ground and noticed bits of

gravel trembling, skittering southeast, as if

pulled towards the Parthenon.

‘Right,’ Piper said. ‘We’ll meet up at the gi-

ant’s throne.’

At first it was easy.

Monsters were everywhere – hundreds of

ogres, Earthborn and Cyclopes milling

through the ruins – but most of them were

gathered at the Parthenon, watching the ce-

remony in progress. Piper strolled along the

cliffs of the Acropolis unchallenged.

Near the first onager, three Earthborn

were sunning themselves on the rocks. Piper

walked right up to them and smiled. ‘Hello.’

Before they could make a sound, she cut

them down with her sword. All three melted

into slag heaps. She slashed the onager’s

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spring cord to disable the weapon, then kept

moving.

She was committed now. She had to do as

much damage as possible before the sabot-

age was discovered.

She skirted a patrol of Cyclopes. The

second onager was surrounded by an en-

campment of tattooed Laistrygonian ogres,

but Piper managed to get to the machine

without raising suspicion. She dropped a vial

of Greek fire in the sling. With luck, as soon

as they tried to load the catapult, it would ex-

plode in their faces.

She kept moving. Gryphons roosted on the

colonnade of an old temple. A group of em-

pousai had retreated into a shadowy archway and appeared to be slumbering, their fiery

hair flickering dimly, their brass legs glint-

ing. Hopefully the sunlight would make them

sluggish if they had to fight.

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Whenever she could, Piper slew isolated

monsters. She walked past larger groups.

Meanwhile the crowd at the Parthenon grew

larger. The chanting got louder. Piper

couldn’t see what was happening inside the

ruins – just the heads of twenty or thirty gi-

ants standing in a circle, mumbling and

swaying, maybe doing the evil monster ver-

sion of ‘Kumbayah’.

She disabled a third siege weapon by saw-

ing through the torsion ropes, which should

give the Argo II a clear approach from the north.

She hoped Frank was watching her pro-

gress. She wondered how long it would take

for the ship to arrive.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. A BOOM

echoed across the hillside. In the Parthenon,

the giants roared in triumph. All around

Piper, monsters surged towards the sound of

celebration.

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That couldn’t be good. Piper blended into

a crowd of sour-smelling Earthborn. She

bounded up the main steps of the temple,

then climbed a section of metal scaffolding

so she could see above the heads of the ogres

and Cyclopes.

The scene in the ruins almost made her cry

aloud.

Before Porphyrion’s throne, dozens of gi-

ants stood in a loose ring, hollering and

shaking their weapons as two of their num-

ber paraded around the circle, showing off

their prizes. The princess Periboia held An-

nabeth by the neck like a feral cat. The giant

Enceladus had Percy wrapped in his massive

fist.

Annabeth and Percy both struggled help-

lessly. Their captors displayed them to the

cheering horde of monsters, then turned to

face King Porphyrion, who sat in his

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makeshift throne, his white eyes gleaming

with malice.

‘Right on time!’ the giant king bellowed.

‘The blood of Olympus to raise the Earth

Mother!’

X ll I I I

Piper

PIPER WATCHED IN HORROR as the giant king

rose to his full height – almost as tall as the

temple columns. His face looked just as

Piper remembered – green as bile, with a

twisted sneer, his seaweed-coloured hair

braided with swords and axes taken from

dead demigods.

He loomed over the captives, watching

them wriggle. ‘They arrived just as you

foresaw, Enceladus! Well done!’

Piper’s old enemy bowed his head, braided

bones clattering in his dreadlocks. ‘It was

simple, my king.’

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The flame designs gleamed on his armour.

His spear burned with purplish fire. He only

needed one hand to hold his captive. Despite

all of Percy Jackson’s power, despite

everything he had survived, in the end he

was helpless against the sheer strength of the

giant – and the inevitability of the prophecy.

‘I knew these two would lead the assault,’

Enceladus continued. ‘I understand how they

think. Athena and Poseidon … they were just

like these children! They both came here

thinking to claim this city. Their arrogance

has undone them!’

Over the roar of the crowd, Piper could

barely hear herself think, but she replayed

Enceladus’s words: these two would lead the

assault. Her heart raced.

The giants had expected Percy and Anna-

beth. They didn’t expect her.

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For once, being Piper McLean, the daugh-

ter of Aphrodite, the one nobody took seri-

ously, might play to her advantage.

Annabeth tried to say something, but the

giantess Periboia shook her by the neck.

‘Shut up! None of your silver-tongued

trickery!’

The princess drew a hunting knife as long

as Piper’s sword. ‘Let me do the honours,

Father!’

‘Wait, Daughter.’ The king stepped back.

‘The sacrifice must be done properly. Thoon,

destroyer of the Fates, come forward!’

The wizened grey giant shuffled into sight,

holding an oversized meat cleaver. He fixed

his milky eyes on Annabeth.

Percy shouted. At the other end of the

Acropolis, a hundred yards away, a geyser of

water shot into the sky.

King Porphyrion laughed. ‘You’ll have to

do better than that, son of Poseidon. The

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earth is too powerful here. Even your father

wouldn’t be able to summon more than a

salty spring. But never fear. The only liquid

we require from you is your blood!’

Piper scanned the sky desperately. Where

was the Argo II?

Thoon knelt and touched the blade of his

cleaver reverently against the earth.

‘Mother Gaia …’ His voice was impossibly

deep, shaking the ruins, making the metal

scaffold resonate under Piper’s feet. ‘In an-

cient times, blood mixed with your soil to

create life. Now, let the blood of these demi-

gods return the favour. We bring you to full

wakefulness. We greet you as our eternal

mistress!’

Without thinking, Piper leaped from the

scaffolding. She sailed over the heads of the

Cyclopes and ogres, landed in the centre of

the courtyard and pushed her way into the

circle of giants. As Thoon rose to use his

758/982

cleaver, Piper slashed upward with her

sword. She took off Thoon’s hand at the

wrist.

The old giant wailed. The cleaver and

severed hand lay in the dust at Piper’s feet.

She felt her Mist disguise burn away until

she was just Piper again – one girl in the

midst of an army of giants, her jagged bronze

blade like a toothpick compared to their

massive weapons.

‘WHAT IS THIS?’ Porphyrion thundered.

‘How dare this weak, useless creature

interrupt?’

Piper followed her gut. She attacked.

Piper’s advantages: she was small, she was

quick, and she was absolutely insane. She

drew her knife Katoptris and threw it at

Enceladus, hoping she wouldn’t hit Percy by

accident. She veered aside without

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witnessing the results, but, judging from the

giant’s painful howl, she’d aimed well.

Several giants ran at her at once. Piper

dodged between their legs and let them bash

their heads together.

She wove through the crowd, jabbing her

sword into dragon-scale feet at every oppor-

tunity and yelling, ‘RUN! RUN AWAY!’ to

sow confusion.

‘NO! STOP HER!’ Porphyrion shouted.

‘KILL HER!’

A spear almost impaled her. Piper swerved

and kept running. It’s just like capture the

flag, she told herself. Only the enemy team is all thirty feet tall.

A huge sword sliced across her path. Com-

pared to her sparring practice with Hazel,

the strike was ridiculously slow. Piper leaped

over the blade and zigzagged towards Anna-

beth, who was still kicking and writhing in

Periboia’s grip. Piper had to free her friend.

760/982

Unfortunately, the giantess seemed to an-

ticipate her plan.

‘I think not, demigod!’ Periboia yelled.

‘This one bleeds!’

The giantess raised her knife.

Piper screamed in charmspeak: ‘MISS!’

At the same time, Annabeth kicked up

with her legs to make herself a smaller

target.

Periboia’s knife passed beneath Anna-

beth’s legs and stabbed the giantess’s own

palm.

‘OWWW!’

Periboia dropped Annabeth – alive, but

not unscathed. The dagger had sliced a nasty

gash across the back of her thigh. As Anna-

beth rolled away, her blood soaked into the

earth.

The blood of Olympus, Piper thought with

dread.

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But she couldn’t do anything about that.

She had to help Annabeth.

Piper lunged at the giantess. Her jagged

blade suddenly felt ice cold in her hands. The

surprised giantess glanced down as the

sword of the Boread pierced her gut. Frost

spread across her bronze breastplate.

Piper yanked out her sword. The giantess

toppled backwards – steaming white and

frozen solid. Periboia hit the ground with a

thud.

‘My daughter!’ King Porphyrion levelled

his spear and charged.

But Percy had other ideas.

Enceladus had dropped him … probably

because the giant was busy staggering

around with Piper’s knife embedded in his

forehead, ichor streaming into his eyes.

Percy had no weapon – perhaps his sword

had been confiscated or lost in the fighting –

but he didn’t let that stop him. As the giant

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king ran towards Piper, Percy grabbed the

tip of Porphyrion’s spear and forced it down

into the ground. The giant’s own momentum

lifted him off his feet in an unintentional

pole-vault manoeuvre and he flipped over

onto his back.

Meanwhile Annabeth dragged herself

across the ground. Piper ran to her side. She

stood over her friend, sweeping her blade

back and forth to keep the giants at bay. Cold

blue steam now wreathed her blade.

‘Who wants to be the next Popsicle?’ she

yelled, channelling anger into her charm-

speak. ‘Who wants to go back to Tartarus?’

That seemed to hit a nerve. The giants

shuffled uneasily, glancing at the frozen body

of Periboia.

And why shouldn’t Piper intimidate them?

Aphrodite was the most ancient Olympian,

born of the sea and the blood of Ouranos.

763/982

She was older than Poseidon or Athena or

even Zeus. And Piper was her daughter.

More than that, she was a McLean. Her

father had come from nothing. Now he was

known all over the world. The McLeans

didn’t retreat. Like all Cherokee, they knew

how to endure suffering, keep their pride

and, when necessary, fight back. This was

the time to fight back.

Forty feet away, Percy bent over the giant

king, trying to yank a sword from the braids

of his hair. But Porphyrion wasn’t as stunned

as he let on.

‘Fools!’ Porphyrion backhanded Percy like

a pesky fly. The son of Poseidon flew into a

column with a sickening crunch.

Porphyrion rose. ‘These demigods cannot

kill us! They do not have the help of the gods.

Remember who you are!’

The giants closed in. A dozen spears were

pointed at Piper’s chest.

764/982

Annabeth struggled to her feet. She re-

trieved Periboia’s hunting knife, but she

could barely stand upright, much less fight.

Each time a drop of her blood hit the ground

it bubbled, turning from red to gold.

Percy tried to stand, but he was obviously

dazed. He wouldn’t be able to defend

himself.

Piper’s only choice was to keep the giants

focused on her.

‘Come on, then!’ she yelled. ‘I’ll destroy

you all myself if I have to!’

A metallic smell of storm filled the air. All

the hairs on Piper’s arms stood up.

‘The thing is,’ said a voice from above, ‘you

don’t have to.’

Piper’s heart could’ve floated out of her

body. At the top of the nearest colonnade

stood Jason, his sword gleaming gold in the

sun. Frank stood at his side, his bow ready.

765/982

Hazel sat astride Arion, who reared and

whinnied in challenge.

With a deafening blast, a white-hot bolt

arced from the sky, straight through Jason’s

body as he leaped, wreathed in lightning, at

the giant king.

X ll I V

Piper

FOR THE NEXT THREE MINUTES, LIFE WAS

GREAT.

So much happened at once that only an

ADHD demigod could have kept track.

Jason fell on King Porphyrion with such

force that the giant crumpled to his knees –

blasted with lightning and stabbed in the

neck with a golden gladius.

Frank unleashed a hail of arrows, driving

back the giants nearest to Percy.

The Argo II rose above the ruins and all

the ballistae and catapults fired simultan-

eously. Leo must have programmed the

768/982

weapons with surgical precision. A wall of

Greek fire roared upward all around the

Parthenon. It didn’t touch the interior, but in

a flash most of the smaller monsters around

it were incinerated.

Leo’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker:

‘ SURRENDER! YOU ARE SURROUNDED

BY ONE SPANKING HOT WAR MACHINE! ’

The giant Enceladus howled in outrage.

‘Valdez!’

‘ WHAT’S UP, ENCHILADAS? ’ Leo’s voice

roared back. ‘ NICE DAGGER IN YOUR

FOREHEAD. ’

‘GAH!’ The giant pulled Katoptris out of

his head. ‘Monsters: destroy that ship!’

The remaining forces tried their best. A

flock of gryphons rose to attack. Festus the

figurehead blew flames and chargrilled them

out of the sky. A few Earthborn launched a

volley of rocks, but from the sides of the hull

a dozen Archimedes spheres sprayed out,

769/982

intercepting the boulders and blasting them

to dust.

‘PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!’ Buford

ordered.

Hazel spurred Arion off the colonnade and

they leaped into battle. The forty-foot fall

would have broken any other horse’s legs,

but Arion hit the ground running. Hazel

zipped from giant to giant, stinging them

with the blade of her spatha.

With extremely bad timing, Kekrops and

his snake people chose that moment to join

the fight. In four or five places around the

ruins, the ground turned to green goo and

armed gemini burst forth, Kekrops himself

in the lead.

‘Kill the demigods!’ he hissed. ‘Kill the

tricksters!’

Before many of his warriors could follow,

Hazel pointed her blade at the nearest tun-

nel. The ground rumbled. All the gooey

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membranes popped and the tunnels col-

lapsed, billowing plumes of dust. Kekrops

looked around at his army, now reduced to

six guys.

‘SLITHER AWAY!’ he ordered.

Frank’s arrows cut them down as they

tried to retreat.

The giantess Periboia had thawed with

alarming speed. She tried to grab Annabeth,

but, despite her bad leg, Annabeth was hold-

ing her own. She stabbed at the giantess with

her own hunting knife and led her in a

deadly game of tag around the throne.

Percy was back on his feet, Riptide once

again in his hands. He still looked dazed. His

nose was bleeding. But he seemed to be

standing his ground against the old giant

Thoon, who had somehow reattached his

hand and found his meat cleaver.

Piper stood back to back with Jason, fight-

ing every giant who dared to come close. For

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a moment she felt elated. They were actually

winning!

But too soon their element of surprise

faded. The giants overcame their confusion.

Frank ran out of arrows. He changed into

a rhinoceros and leaped into battle, but as

fast as he could knock down the giants they

got up again. Their wounds seemed to be

healing faster.

Annabeth lost ground against Periboia.

Hazel was knocked out of her saddle at sixty

miles an hour. Jason summoned another

lightning strike, but this time Porphyrion

simply deflected it off the tip of his spear.

The giants were bigger, stronger and more

numerous. They couldn’t be killed without

the help of the gods. And they didn’t seem to

be tiring.

The six demigods were forced into a de-

fensive ring.

772/982

Another volley of Earthborn rocks hit the

Argo II. This time Leo couldn’t return fire fast enough. Rows of oars were sheared off.

The ship shuddered and tilted in the sky.

Then Enceladus threw his fiery spear. It

pierced the ship’s hull and exploded inside,

sending spouts of fire through the oar open-

ings. An ominous black cloud billowed from

the deck. The Argo II began to sink.

‘Leo!’ Jason cried.

Porphyrion laughed. ‘You demigods have

learned nothing. There are no gods to aid

you. We need only one more thing from you

to make our victory complete.’

The giant king smiled expectantly. He

seemed to be looking at Percy Jackson.

Piper glanced over. Percy’s nose was still

bleeding. He seemed unaware that a trickle

of blood had made its way down his face to

the end of his chin.

773/982

‘Percy, look out …’ Piper tried to say, but

for once her voice failed her.

A single drop of blood fell from his chin. It

hit the ground between his feet and sizzled

like water on a frying pan.

The blood of Olympus watered the ancient

stones.

The Acropolis groaned and shifted as the

Earth Mother woke.

X ll V

Nico

ABOUT FIVE MILES EAST OF CAMP, a black

SUV was parked on the beach.

They tied up the boat at a private dock.

Nico helped Dakota and Leila haul Michael

Kahale ashore. The big guy was still only

half-conscious, mumbling what Nico as-

sumed were football calls: ‘Red twelve. Right

thirty-one. Hike.’ Then he giggled

uncontrollably.

‘We’ll leave him here,’ Leila said. ‘Just

don’t bind him. Poor guy …’

776/982

‘What about the car?’ Dakota asked. ‘The

keys are in the glove compartment, but, uh,

can you drive?’

Leila frowned. ‘I thought you could drive.

Aren’t you seventeen?’

‘I never learned!’ Dakota said. ‘I was busy.’

‘I’ve got it covered,’ Nico promised.

They both looked at him.

‘You’re, like, fourteen,’ Leila said.

Nico enjoyed how nervous the Romans ac-

ted around him, even though they were older

and bigger and more experienced fighters. ‘I

didn’t say I would be behind the wheel.’

He knelt and placed his hand on the

ground. He felt the nearest graves, the bones

of forgotten humans buried and scattered.

He searched deeper, extending his senses in-

to the Underworld. ‘Jules-Albert. Let’s go.’

The ground split. A zombie in a ragged

nineteenth-century motoring outfit clawed

777/982

his way to the surface. Leila stepped back.

Dakota screamed like a kindergartner.

‘What is that, man?’ Dakota protested.

‘This is my driver,’ Nico said. ‘Jules-Albert

finished first in the Paris–Rouen motorcar

race back in 1895, but he wasn’t awarded the

prize because his steam car used a stoker.’

Leila stared at him. ‘What are you even

talking about?’

‘He’s a restless soul, always looking for an-

other chance to drive,’ Nico said. ‘The last

few years, he’s been my driver whenever I

need one.’

‘You have a zombie chauffeur,’ Leila said.

‘I call shotgun.’ Nico got in on the passen-

ger’s side. Reluctantly, the Romans climbed

in the back.

One thing about Jules-Albert: he never got

emotional. He could sit in crosstown traffic

all day without losing his patience. He was

immune to road rage. He could even drive

778/982

straight up to an encampment of wild cen-

taurs and navigate through them without

getting nervous.

The centaurs were like nothing Nico had

ever seen. They had back ends like palomi-

nos, tattoos all over their hairy arms and

chests, and bullish horns protruding from

their foreheads. Nico doubted they could

blend in with humans as easily as Chiron

did.

At least two hundred were sparring rest-

lessly with swords and spears, or roasting

animal carcasses over open fires (carnivor-

ous centaurs … the idea made Nico shudder).

Their camp spilled across the farm road that

meandered around Camp Half-Blood’s

southeast perimeter.

The SUV nudged its way through, honking

when necessary. Occasionally a centaur

glared through the driver’s side window, saw

the zombie driver and backed away in shock.

779/982

‘Pluto’s pauldrons,’ Dakota muttered.

‘Even more centaurs arrived overnight.’

‘Don’t make eye contact,’ Leila warned.

‘They take that as a challenge for a duel to

the death.’

Nico stared straight ahead as the SUV

pushed through. His heart was pounding,

but he wasn’t scared. He was angry. Octavian

had surrounded Camp Half-Blood with

monsters.

Sure, Nico had mixed emotions about the

camp. He’d felt rejected there, out of place,

unwanted and unloved … but now that it was

on the verge of destruction, he realized how

much it meant to him. This was the last place

Bianca and he had shared as a home – the

only place they’d ever felt safe, even if only

temporarily.

They rounded a bend in the road and

Nico’s fists clenched. More monsters … hun-

dreds more. Dog-headed men prowled in

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packs, their poleaxes gleaming in the light of

campfires. Beyond that milled a tribe of two-

headed men dressed in rags and blankets

like homeless guys, armed with a haphazard

collection of slings, clubs and metal pipes.

‘Octavian is an idiot,’ Nico hissed. ‘He

thinks he can control these creatures?’

‘They just kept showing up,’ Leila said.

‘Before we knew it … well, look.’

The legion was arrayed at the base of Half-

Blood Hill, its five cohorts in perfect order,

its standards bright and proud. Giant eagles

circled overhead. The siege weapons – six

golden onagers the size of houses – were ar-

rayed behind in a loose semicircle, three on

each flank. But, for all its impressive discip-

line, the Twelfth Legion looked pitifully

small, a splotch of demigod valour in a sea of

ravenous monsters.

Nico wished he still had the sceptre of

Diocletian, but he doubted a legion of dead

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warriors would make a dent in this army.

Even the Argo II couldn’t do much against

this kind of strength.

‘I have to disable the onagers,’ Nico said.

‘We don’t have much time.’

‘You’ll never get close to them,’ Leila

warned. ‘Even if we get the entire Fourth and

Fifth Cohorts to follow us, the other cohorts

will try to stop us. And those siege weapons

are manned by Octavian’s most loyal

followers.’

‘We won’t get close by force,’ Nico agreed.

‘But alone I can do it. Dakota, Leila – Jules-

Albert will drive you to the legion lines. Get

out, talk to your troops, convince them to fol-

low your lead. I’ll need a distraction.’

Dakota frowned. ‘All right, but I’m not

hurting any of my fellow legionnaires.’

‘No one’s asking you to,’ Nico growled.

‘But if we don’t stop this war the entire

782/982

legion will be wiped out. You said the mon-

ster tribes take insult easily?’

‘Yes,’ Dakota said. ‘I mean, for instance,

you make any comment to those two-headed

guys about the way they smell and … oh.’ He

grinned. ‘If we started a brawl, by accident of

course …’

‘I’ll be counting on you,’ Nico said.

Leila frowned. ‘But how will you –’

‘I’m going dark,’ Nico said. And he faded

into the shadows.

He thought he was prepared.

He wasn’t.

Even after three days of rest and the won-

drous healing properties of Coach Hedge’s

gooey brown gunk, Nico started to dissolve

the moment he shadow-jumped.

His limbs turned to vapour. Cold seeped

into his chest. Voices of spirits whispered in

his ears: Help us. Remember us. Join us.

783/982

He hadn’t realized how much he had relied

on Reyna. Without her strength, he felt as

weak as a newborn colt, wobbling danger-

ously, ready to fall at every step.

No, he told himself. I am Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. I control the shadows. They do not control me.

He stumbled back into the mortal world at

the crest of Half-Blood Hill.

He fell to his knees, hugging Thalia’s pine

tree for support. The Golden Fleece was no

longer in its branches. The guardian dragon

was gone. Perhaps they’d been moved to a

safer spot with the battle so close. Nico

wasn’t sure. But, looking down at the Roman

forces arrayed outside the valley, his spirits

wavered.

The nearest onager was a hundred yards

downhill, encircled in spiked trenches and

guarded by a dozen demigods. The machine

was primed, ready to fire. Its huge sling

784/982

cupped a projectile the size of a Honda Civic,

glowing with flecks of gold.

With icy certainty, Nico realized what

Octavian was up to. The projectile was a mix-

ture of incendiaries and Imperial gold. Even

a small amount of Imperial gold could be in-

credibly volatile. Exposed to too much heat

or pressure, the stuff would explode with

devastating impact, and of course it was

deadly to demigods as well as monsters. If

that onager scored a hit on Camp Half-

Blood, anything in the blast zone would be

annihilated – vaporized by the heat, or disin-

tegrated by the shrapnel. And the Romans

had six onagers, all stocked with piles of

ammunition.

‘Evil,’ Nico said. ‘This is evil.’

He tried to think. Dawn was breaking. He

couldn’t possibly take down all six weapons

before the attack began, even if he found the

strength to shadow-travel that many times.

785/982

If he managed it once more, it would be a

miracle.

He spotted the Roman command tent –

behind and to the left of the legion. Octavian

would probably be there, enjoying breakfast

at a safe distance from the fighting. He

wouldn’t lead his troops into battle. The little

scumbag would hope to destroy the Greek

camp from a distance, wait for the flames to

die down, then march in unopposed.

Nico’s throat constricted with hate. He

concentrated on that tent, envisioning his

next jump. If he could assassinate Octavian,

that might solve the problem. The order to

attack might never be given. Nico was about

to attempt it when a voice behind him said,

‘Nico?’

He spun, his sword instantly in his hand,

and almost decapitated Will Solace.

‘Put that down!’ Will hissed. ‘What are you

doing here?’

786/982

Nico was dumbstruck. Will and two other

campers were crouched in the grass, binocu-

lars around their necks and daggers at their

side. They wore black jeans and T-shirts,

with black grease paint on their faces like

commandos.

‘ Me? ’ Nico asked. ‘What are you doing?

Getting yourselves killed?’

Will scowled. ‘Hey, we’re scouting the en-

emy. We took precautions.’

‘You dressed in black,’ Nico noted, ‘with

the sun coming up. You painted your face

but didn’t cover that mop of blond hair. You

might as well be waving a yellow flag.’

Will’s ears reddened. ‘Lou Ellen wrapped

some Mist around us, too.’

‘Hi.’ The girl next to him wriggled her fin-

gers. She looked a little flustered. ‘You’re

Nico, right? I’ve heard a lot about you. And

this is Cecil from Hermes cabin.’

787/982

Nico knelt next to them. ‘Did Coach Hedge

make it to camp?’

Lou Ellen giggled nervously. ‘Did he ever.’

Will elbowed her. ‘Yeah. Hedge is fine. He

made it just in time for the baby’s birth.’

‘The baby!’ Nico grinned, which hurt his

face muscles. He wasn’t used to making that

expression. ‘Mellie and the kid are all right?’

‘Fine. A very cute little satyr boy.’ Will

shuddered. ‘But I delivered it. Have you ever

delivered a baby?’

‘Um, no.’

‘I had to get some fresh air. That’s why I

volunteered for this mission. Gods of Olym-

pus, my hands are still shaking. See?’

He took Nico’s hand, which sent an elec-

tric current down Nico’s spine. He quickly

withdrew. ‘Whatever,’ he snapped. ‘We don’t

have time for chitchat. The Romans are at-

tacking at dawn and I’ve got to –’

788/982

‘We know,’ Will said. ‘But, if you’re plan-

ning to shadow-travel to that command tent,

forget it.’

Nico glared at him. ‘Excuse me?’

He expected Will to flinch or look away.

Most people did. But Will’s blue eyes stayed

fixed on his – annoyingly determined. ‘Coach

Hedge told me all about your shadow-travel.

You can’t try that again.’

‘I just did try it again, Solace. I’m fine.’

‘No, you’re not. I’m a healer. I could feel

the darkness in your hand as soon as I

touched it. Even if you made it to that tent,

you’d be in no shape to fight. But you

wouldn’t make it. One more slip, and you

won’t come back. You are not shadow-travelling. Doctor’s orders.’

‘The camp is about to be destroyed –’

‘And we’ll stop the Romans,’ Will said. ‘But

we’ll do it our way. Lou Ellen will control the

Mist. We’ll sneak around, do as much

789/982

damage as we can to those onagers. But no

shadow-travel.’

‘But –’

‘ No. ’

Lou Ellen’s and Cecil’s heads swivelled

back and forth like they were watching a

really intense tennis match.

Nico sighed in exasperation. He hated

working with other people. They were always

cramping his style, making him uncomfort-

able. And Will Solace … Nico revised his im-

pression of the son of Apollo. He’d always

thought of Will as easygoing and laid back.

Apparently he could also be stubborn and

aggravating.

Nico gazed down at Camp Half-Blood,

where the rest of the Greeks were preparing

for war. Past the troops and ballistae, the ca-

noe lake glittered pink in the first light of

dawn. Nico remembered the first time he’d

arrived at Camp Half-Blood, crash-landing

790/982

in Apollo’s sun car, which had been conver-

ted into a fiery school bus.

He remembered Apollo, smiling and

tanned and completely cool in his shades.

Thalia had said, He’s hot.

He’s the sun god, Percy replied.

That’s not what I meant.

Why was Nico thinking about that now?

The random memory irritated him, made

him feel jittery.

He had arrived at Camp Half-Blood thanks

to Apollo. Now, on what would likely be his

last day at camp, he was stuck with a son of

Apollo.

‘Whatever,’ Nico said. ‘But we have to

hurry. And you’ll follow my lead.’

‘Fine,’ Will said. ‘Just don’t ask me to de-

liver any more satyr babies and we’ll get

along great.’

X ll V I

Nico

THEY MADE IT TO THE FIRST ONAGER just as

chaos broke loose in the legion.

On the far end of the line, cries went up

from the Fifth Cohort. Legionnaires

scattered and dropped their pila. A dozen

centaurs barrelled through the ranks, yelling

and waving their clubs, followed by a horde

of two-headed men banging on trash-can

lids.

‘What’s going on down there?’ Lou Ellen

asked.

‘That’s my distraction,’ Nico said. ‘Come

on.’

793/982

All the guards had clustered on the right

side of the onager, trying to see what was go-

ing on down the ranks, which gave Nico and

his comrades a clear shot to the left. They

passed within a few feet of the nearest Ro-

man, but the legionnaire didn’t notice them.

Lou Ellen’s Mist magic seemed to be

working.

They jumped the spiked trench and

reached the machine.

‘I brought some Greek fire,’ Cecil

whispered.

‘No,’ Nico said. ‘If we make the damage too

obvious, we’ll never get to the other ones in

time. Can you recalibrate the aim – like, to-

wards the other onagers’ firing lines?’

Cecil grinned. ‘Oh, I like the way you

think. They sent me because I excel at mess-

ing things up.’

He went to work while Nico and the others

stood guard.

794/982

Meanwhile the Fifth Cohort was brawling

with the two-headed men. The Fourth Co-

hort moved in to help. The other three co-

horts held their positions, but the officers

were having trouble keeping order.

‘All right,’ Cecil announced. ‘Let’s move.’

They shuffled across the hillside towards

the next onager.

This time the Mist didn’t work so well. One

of the onager guards yelled, ‘Hey!’

‘Got this.’ Will sprinted off – which was

possibly the stupidest diversion Nico could

imagine – and six of the guards chased after

him.

The other Romans advanced on Nico, but

Lou Ellen appeared out of the Mist and

yelled, ‘Hey, catch!’

She lobbed a white ball the size of an

apple. The Roman in the middle caught it in-

stinctively. A twenty-foot sphere of powder

795/982

exploded outwards. When the dust settled,

all six Romans were squealing pink piglets.

‘Nice work,’ Nico said.

Lou Ellen blushed. ‘Well, it’s the only pig

ball I have. So don’t ask for an encore.’

‘And, uh –’ Cecil pointed – ‘somebody bet-

ter help Will.’

Even in their armour, the Romans were

starting to gain on Solace. Nico cursed and

raced after them.

He didn’t want to kill other demigods if he

could avoid it. Fortunately, he didn’t need to.

He tripped the Roman in the back and the

others turned. Nico jumped into the crowd,

kicking groins, smacking faces with the flat

of his blade, bashing helmets with his pom-

mel. In ten seconds, the Romans all lay

groaning and dazed on the ground.

Will punched his shoulder. ‘Thanks for the

assist. Six at once isn’t bad.’

796/982

‘ Not bad? ’ Nico glared at him. ‘Next time

I’ll just let them run you down, Solace.’

‘Ah, they’d never catch me.’

Cecil waved at them from the onager, sig-

nalling that his job was done.

They all moved towards the third siege

machine.

In the legion ranks, everything was still in

chaos, but the officers were starting to reas-

sert control. The Fifth and Fourth Cohorts

regrouped while the Second and Third acted

as riot police, shoving centaurs and cyno-

cephali and two-headed men back into their respective camps. The First Cohort stood

closest to the onager – a little too close for Nico’s comfort – but they seemed occupied

by a couple of officers parading in front of

them, shouting orders.

Nico hoped they could sneak up on the

third siege machine. One more onager redir-

ected and they might stand a chance.

797/982

Unfortunately, the guards spotted them

from twenty yards away. One yelled, ‘There!’

Lou Ellen cursed. ‘They’re expecting an attack now. The Mist doesn’t work well against

alert enemies. Do we run?’

‘No,’ Nico said. ‘Let’s give them what they

expect.’

He spread his hands. In front of the Ro-

mans, the ground erupted. Five skeletons

clawed out of the earth. Cecil and Lou Ellen

charged in to help. Nico tried to follow, but

he would’ve fallen on his face if Will hadn’t

caught him.

‘You idiot.’ Will put an arm around him. ‘I

told you no more of that Underworld magic.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Shut up. You’re not.’ From his pocket,

Will dug out a pack of gum.

Nico wanted to pull away. He hated phys-

ical contact. But Will was a lot stronger than

798/982

he looked. Nico found himself leaning

against him, relying on his support.

‘Take this,’ Will said.

‘You want me to chew gum?’

‘It’s medicinal. Should keep you alive and

alert for a few more hours.’

Nico shoved a stick of gum into his mouth.

‘Tastes like tar and mud.’

‘Stop complaining.’

‘Hey.’ Cecil limped over, looking like he’d

pulled a muscle. ‘You guys kind of missed the

fight.’

Lou Ellen followed, grinning. Behind

them, all the Roman guards were tangled in

a weird assortment of ropes and bones.

‘Thanks for the skeletons,’ she said. ‘Great

trick.’

‘Which he won’t be doing again,’ Will said.

Nico realized he was still leaning against

Will. He pushed him away and stood on his

own two feet. ‘I’ll do what I need to.’

799/982

Will rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, Death Boy. If

you want to get yourself killed –’

‘Do not call me Death Boy!’

Lou Ellen cleared her throat. ‘Um, guys –’

‘DROP YOUR WEAPONS!’

Nico turned. The fight at the third onager

had not gone unnoticed.

The entire First Cohort was advancing on

them, spears levelled, shields locked. In front

of them marched Octavian, purple robes over

his armour, Imperial gold jewellery glittering

on his neck and arms, and a crown of laurels

on his head as if he’d already won the battle.

Next to him was the legion’s standard-bear-

er, Jacob, holding the golden eagle, and six

huge cynocephali, their canine teeth bared, their swords glowing red.

‘Well,’ Octavian snarled, ‘ Graecus

saboteurs.’ He turned to his dog-headed war-

riors. ‘Tear them apart.’

X ll V I I

Nico

NICO WASN’T SURE whether to kick himself

or Will Solace.

If he hadn’t been so distracted bickering

with the son of Apollo, he would never have

allowed the enemy to get so close.

As the dog-headed men barrelled forward,

Nico raised his sword. He doubted he had

the strength left to win, but, before he could

attack them, Will let out a piercing taxicab

whistle.

All six dog-men dropped their weapons,

grabbed their ears and fell down in agony.

802/982

‘Dude.’ Cecil opened his mouth to pop his

ears. ‘What the actual Hades? A little warn-

ing next time.’

‘It’s even worse for the dogs.’ Will

shrugged. ‘One of my few musical talents. I

do a really awful ultrasonic whistle.’

Nico didn’t complain. He waded through

the dog-men, jabbing them with his sword.

They dissolved into shadows.

Octavian and the other Romans seemed

too stunned to react.

‘My – my elite guard!’ Octavian looked

around for sympathy. ‘Did you see what he

did to my elite guard?’

‘Some dogs need to be put down.’ Nico

took a step forward. ‘Like you.’

For one beautiful moment, the entire First

Cohort wavered. Then they remembered

themselves and levelled their pila.

803/982

‘You will be destroyed!’ Octavian shrieked.

‘You Graeci sneak around, sabotaging our

weapons, attacking our men –’

‘You mean the weapons you were about to

fire at us?’ Cecil asked.

‘And the men who were about to burn our

camp to ashes?’ added Lou Ellen.

‘Just like a Greek!’ Octavian yelled. ‘Trying

to twist things around! Well, it won’t work!’

He pointed to the nearest legionnaires. ‘You,

you, you and you. Check all the onagers.

Make sure they’re operational. I want them

fired simultaneously as soon as possible. Go!’

The four Romans ran.

Nico tried to keep his expression neutral.

Please don’t check the firing trajectory, he

thought.

He hoped Cecil had done his work well. It

was one thing to screw up a huge weapon. It

was another thing to screw it up so subtly

that no one noticed until it was too late. But

804/982

if anyone had that skill it would be a child of

Hermes, god of trickery.

Octavian marched up to Nico. To his cred-

it, the augur didn’t seem afraid, though his

only weapon was a dagger. He stopped so

close that Nico could see the bloodshot veins

in his pale watery eyes. His face was gaunt.

His hair was the colour of overcooked

spaghetti.

Nico knew Octavian was a legacy – a des-

cendant of Apollo many generations re-

moved. Now, he couldn’t help thinking that

Octavian looked like a watered-down, un-

healthy version of Will Solace – like a photo

that had been copied too many times.

Whatever made a child of Apollo special,

Octavian didn’t have it.

‘Tell me, son of Pluto,’ the augur hissed,

‘why are you helping the Greeks? What have

they ever done for you?’

805/982

Nico was itching to stab Octavian in the

chest. He’d been dreaming of that ever since

Bryce Lawrence had attacked them in South

Carolina. But, now that they were face to

face, Nico hesitated. He had no doubt he

could kill Octavian before the First Cohort

intervened. Nor did Nico particularly care if

he died for his actions. The trade-off would

be worth it.

But, after what happened with Bryce, the

idea of cutting down another demigod in

cold blood – even Octavian – didn’t sit well.

Nor did it seem right to sentence Cecil, Lou

Ellen and Will to die with him.

It doesn’t seem right? Another part of him

wondered, Since when do I worry about

what’s right?

‘I’m helping the Greeks and the Romans,’

Nico said.

806/982

Octavian laughed. ‘Don’t try to con me.

What have they offered you – a place in their

camp? They won’t honour their agreement.’

‘I don’t want a place in their camp,’ Nico snarled. ‘Or in yours. When this war is over,

I’m leaving both camps for good.’

Will Solace made a sound like he’d been

punched. ‘Why would you do that?’

Nico scowled. ‘It’s none of your business,

but I don’t belong. That’s obvious. No one

wants me. I’m a child of –’

‘Oh, please.’ Will sounded unusually

angry. ‘Nobody at Camp Half-Blood ever

pushed you away. You have friends – or at

least people who would like to be your

friend. You pushed yourself away. If you’d

get your head out of that brooding cloud of

yours for once –’

‘Enough!’ Octavian snapped. ‘Di Angelo, I

can beat any offer the Greeks could make. I

always thought you would make a powerful

807/982

ally. I see the ruthlessness in you, and I ap-

preciate that. I can assure you a place in New

Rome. All you have to do is step aside and al-

low the Romans to win. The god Apollo has

shown me the future –’

‘No!’ Will Solace shoved Nico out of the

way and got in Octavian’s face. ‘ I am a son of Apollo, you anaemic loser. My father hasn’t

shown anyone the future, because the power

of prophecy isn’t working. But this –’ He

waved loosely at the assembled legion, the

hordes of monstrous armies spread across

the hillside. ‘This is not what Apollo would want!’

Octavian’s lip curled. ‘You lie. The god told

me personally that I would be remembered

as the saviour of Rome. I will lead the legion

to victory, and I will start by –’

Nico felt the sound before he heard it –

thunk-thunk-thunk reverberating through

the earth, like the massive gears of a

808/982

drawbridge. All the onagers fired at once,

and six golden comets billowed into the sky.

‘By destroying the Greeks!’ Octavian cried

with glee. ‘The days of Camp Half-Blood are

over!’

Nico couldn’t think of anything more beauti-

full than an off-course projectile. At least, not

today. From the three sabotaged machines,

the payloads veered sideways, arcing to-

wards the barrage from the other three

onagers.

The fireballs didn’t collide directly. They

didn’t need to. As soon as the missiles got

close to one another, all six warheads deton-

ated in midair, spraying a dome of gold and

fire that sucked the oxygen right out of the

sky.

The heat stung Nico’s face. The grass

hissed. The tops of the trees steamed. But,

809/982

when the fireworks faded, no serious damage

had been done.

Octavian reacted first. He stomped his feet

and yelled, ‘NO! NO, NO! RELOAD!’

No one in the First Cohort moved. Nico

heard the tromping of boots to his right. The

Fifth Cohort was marching towards them

double-time, Dakota in the lead.

Further downhill, the rest of the legion

was trying to form up, but the Second, Third

and Fourth Cohorts were now surrounded by

a sea of ill-tempered monstrous allies. The

auxilia forces didn’t look happy about the explosion overhead. No doubt they’d been

waiting for Camp Half-Blood to go up in

flames so they’d get chargrilled demigod for

breakfast.

‘Octavian!’ Dakota called. ‘We have new

orders.’

810/982

Octavian’s left eye twitched so violently it

looked like it might explode. ‘Orders? From

whom? Not from me!’

‘From Reyna,’ Dakota said, loud enough to

make sure everyone in the First Cohort could

hear. ‘She’s ordered us to stand down.’

‘Reyna?’ Octavian laughed, though no one

seemed to get the joke. ‘You mean the outlaw

I sent you to arrest? The ex-praetor who

conspired to betray her own people with this

Graecus?’ He jabbed his finger in Nico’s

chest. ‘You’re taking orders from her?’

The Fifth Cohort formed up behind their

centurion, uneasily facing their comrades in

the First.

Dakota crossed his arms stubbornly.

‘Reyna is the praetor until voted otherwise

by the Senate.’

‘This is war!’ Octavian yelled. ‘I’ve brought

you to the brink of ultimate victory and you

want to give up? First Cohort: arrest

811/982

Centurion Dakota and any who stand with

him. Fifth Cohort: remember your vows to

Rome and the legion. You will obey me!’

Will Solace shook his head. ‘Don’t do this,

Octavian. Don’t force your people to choose.

This is your last chance.’

‘ My last chance?’ Octavian grinned, mad-

ness glinting in his eyes. ‘I will SAVE ROME!

Now, Romans, follow my orders! Arrest

Dakota. Destroy these Graecus scum. And

reload those onagers!’

What the Romans would have done left to

their own devices, Nico didn’t know.

But he hadn’t counted on the Greeks.

At that moment, the entire army of Camp

Half-Blood appeared on the crest of Half-

Blood Hill. Clarisse La Rue rode in the lead,

on a red war chariot pulled by metal horses.

A hundred demigods fanned out around her,

with twice that many satyrs and nature spir-

its led by Grover Underwood. Tyson

812/982

lumbered forward with six other Cyclopes.

Chiron stood in full white stallion mode, his

bow drawn.

It was an impressive sight, but all Nico

could think was: No. Not now.

Clarisse yelled, ‘Romans, you have fired on

our camp! Withdraw or be destroyed!’

Octavian wheeled on his troops. ‘You see?

It was a trick! They divided us so they could

launch a surprise attack. Legion, cuneum

formate! CHARGE!’

X ll V I I I

Nico

NICO WANTED TO YELL: Time out! Hold it!

Freeze!

But he knew it wouldn’t do any good. After

weeks of waiting, agonizing and steaming,

the Greeks and Romans wanted blood. Try-

ing to stop the battle now would be like try-

ing to push back a flood after the dam broke.

Will Solace saved the day.

He put his fingers in his mouth and did a

taxicab whistle even more horrible than the

last. Several Greeks dropped their swords. A

ripple went through the Roman line like the

entire First Cohort was shuddering.

815/982

‘DON’T BE STUPID!’ Will yelled. ‘LOOK!’

He pointed to the north, and Nico grinned

from ear to ear. He decided there was

something more beautiful than an off-course

projectile: the Athena Parthenos gleaming in

the sunrise, flying in from the coast, suspen-

ded from the tethers of six winged horses.

Roman eagles circled but did not attack. A

few of them even swooped in, grabbed the

cables and helped carry the statue.

Nico didn’t see Blackjack, which worried

him, but Reyna Ramírez-Arellano rode on

Guido’s back. Her sword was held high. Her

purple cloak glittered strangely, catching the

sunlight.

Both armies stared, dumbfounded, as the

forty-foot-tall gold and ivory statue came in

for a landing.

‘GREEK DEMIGODS!’ Reyna’s voice

boomed as if projected from the statue itself,

like the Athena Parthenos had become a

816/982

stack of concert speakers. ‘Behold your most

sacred statue, the Athena Parthenos, wrongly

taken by the Romans. I return it to you now

as a gesture of peace!’

The statue settled on the crest of the hill,

about twenty feet away from Thalia’s pine

tree. Instantly gold light rippled across the

ground, into the valley of Camp Half-Blood

and down the opposite side through the Ro-

man ranks. Warmth seeped into Nico’s

bones – a comforting, peaceful sensation he

hadn’t had since … he couldn’t even remem-

ber. A voice inside him seemed to whisper:

You are not alone. You are part of the

Olympian family. The gods have not aban-

doned you.

‘Romans!’ Reyna yelled. ‘I do this for the

good of the legion, for the good of Rome. We

must stand together with our Greek

brethren!’

‘Listen to her!’ Nico marched forward.

817/982

He wasn’t even sure why he did it. Why

would either side listen to him? He was the

worst speaker, the worst ambassador ever.

Yet he strode between the battle lines, his

black sword in his hand. ‘Reyna risked her

life for all of you! We brought this statue

halfway across the world, Roman and Greek

working together, because we must join

forces. Gaia is rising. If we don’t work

together –’

YOU WILL DIE.

The voice shook the earth. Nico’s feeling of

peace and safety instantly vanished. Wind

swept across the hillside. The ground itself

became fluid and sticky, the grass pulling at

Nico’s boots.

A FUTILE GESTURE.

Nico felt as if he was standing on the god-

dess’s throat – as if the entire length of Long

Island resonated with her vocal cords.

818/982

BUT, IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY, YOU

MAY DIE TOGETHER.

‘No …’ Octavian scrambled backwards.

‘No, no …’ He broke and ran, pushing

through his own troops.

‘CLOSE RANKS!’ Reyna yelled.

The Greeks and Romans moved together,

standing shoulder to shoulder as all around

them the earth shook.

Octavian’s auxilia troops surged forward,

surrounding the demigods. Both camps put

together were a minuscule dot in a sea of en-

emies. They would make their final stand on

Half-Blood Hill, with the Athena Parthenos

as their rallying point.

But even here they stood on enemy

ground. Because Gaia was the earth, and the earth was awake.

X ll I X

Jason

JASON HAD HEARD OF someone’s life flashing

before his eyes.

But he didn’t think it would be like this.

Standing with his friends in a defensive

ring, surrounded by giants, then looking up

at an impossible vision in the sky – Jason

could very clearly picture himself fifty years

in the future.

He was sitting in a rocking chair on the

front porch of a house on the California

coast. Piper was serving lemonade. Her hair

was grey. Deep lines etched the corners of

her eyes, but she was still as beautiful as

821/982

ever. Jason’s grandchildren sat around his

feet, and he was trying to explain to them

what had happened on this day in Athens.

No, I’m serious, he said. Just six demigods on the ground and one more in a burning

ship above the Acropolis. We were surroun-

ded by thirty-foot-tall giants who were

about to kill us. Then the sky opened up and

the gods descended!

Granddad, the kids said, you are full of schist.

I’m not kidding! he protested. The

Olympian gods came charging out of the

heavens on their war chariots, trumpets

blaring, swords flaming. And your great-

grandfather, the king of the gods, led the

charge, a javelin of pure electricity crack-

ling in his hand!

His grandkids laughed at him. And Piper

glanced over, smiling, like Would you believe it, if you hadn’t been there?

822/982

But Jason was there. He looked up as the

clouds parted over the Acropolis, and he al-

most doubted the new prescription lenses

Asclepius had given him. Instead of blue

skies, he saw black space spangled with

stars, the palaces of Mount Olympus gleam-

ing silver and gold in the background. And

an army of gods charged down from on high.

It was too much to process. And it was

probably better for his health that he didn’t

see it all. Only later would Jason be able to

remember bits and pieces.

There was supersized Jupiter – no, this

was Zeus, his original form – riding into

battle in a golden chariot, a lightning bolt the

size of a telephone pole crackling in one

hand. Pulling his chariot were four horses

made of wind, each constantly shifting from

equine to human form, trying to break free.

For a split second, one took on the icy visage

of Boreas. Another wore Notus’s swirling 823/982

crown of fire and steam. A third flashed the

smug lazy smile of Zephyrus. Zeus had

bound and harnessed the four wind gods

themselves.

On the underbelly of the Argo II, the glass bay doors split open. The goddess Nike

tumbled out, free from her golden net. She

spread her glittering wings and soared to

Zeus’s side, taking her rightful place as his

charioteer.

‘MY MIND IS RESTORED!’ she roared.

‘VICTORY TO THE GODS!’

At Zeus’s left flank rode Hera, her chariot

pulled by enormous peacocks, their rainbow-

coloured plumage so bright it gave Jason the

spins.

Ares bellowed with glee as he thundered

down on the back of a fire-breathing horse.

His spear glistened red.

In the last second, before the gods reached

the Parthenon, they seemed to displace

824/982

themselves, like they’d jumped through hy-

perspace. The chariots disappeared. Sud-

denly Jason and his friends were surrounded

by the Olympians, now human-sized, tiny

next to the giants, but glowing with power.

Jason shouted and charged Porphyrion.

His friends joined in the carnage.

The fighting ranged all over the Parthenon

and spilled across the Acropolis. Out of the

corner of his eye, Jason saw Annabeth fight-

ing Enceladus. At her side stood a woman

with long dark hair and golden armour over

her white robes. The goddess thrust her

spear at the giant, then brandished her

shield with the fearsome bronzed visage of

Medusa. Together, Athena and Annabeth

drove Enceladus back into the nearest wall of

metal scaffolding, which collapsed on top of

him.

On the opposite side of the temple, Frank

Zhang and the god Ares smashed through an

825/982

entire phalanx of giants – Ares with his spear

and shield, Frank (as an African elephant)

with his trunk and feet. The war god laughed

and stabbed and disembowelled like a kid

destroying piñatas.

Hazel raced through the battle on Arion’s

back, disappearing in the Mist whenever a

giant came close, then appearing behind him

and stabbing him in the back. The goddess

Hecate danced in her wake, setting fire to

their enemies with two blazing torches.

Jason didn’t see Hades, but whenever a giant

stumbled and fell the ground broke open and

the giant was snapped up and swallowed.

Percy battled the giant twins, Otis and

Ephialtes, while at his side fought a bearded

man with a trident and a loud Hawaiian

shirt. The twin giants stumbled. Poseidon’s

trident morphed into a fire hose, and the god

sprayed the giants out of the Parthenon with

826/982

a high-powered blast in the shape of wild

horses.

Piper was maybe the most impressive. She

fenced with the giantess Periboia, sword

against sword. Despite the fact that her op-

ponent was five times larger, Piper seemed

to be holding her own. The goddess Aphrod-

ite floated around them on a small white

cloud, strewing rose petals in the giantess’s

eyes and calling encouragement to Piper.

‘Lovely, my dear. Yes, good. Hit her again!’

Whenever Periboia tried to strike, doves

rose up from nowhere and fluttered in the gi-

antess’s face.

As for Leo, he was racing across the deck

of the Argo II, shooting ballistae, dropping hammers on the giants’ heads and blowtorching their loincloths. Behind him at the

helm, a burly bearded guy in a mechanic’s

uniform was tinkering with the controls,

furiously trying to keep the ship aloft.

827/982

The strangest sight was the old giant

Thoon, who was getting bludgeoned to death

by three old ladies with brass clubs – the

Fates, armed for war. Jason decided there

was nothing in the world scarier than a gang

of bat-wielding grannies.

He noticed all of these things, and a dozen

other melees in progress, but most of his at-

tention was fixed on the enemy before him –

Porphyrion, the giant king – and on the god

who fought by Jason’s side: Zeus.

My father, Jason thought in disbelief.

Porphyrion didn’t give him much chance

to savour the moment. The giant used his

spear in a whirlwind of swipes, jabs and

slashes. It was all Jason could do to stay

alive.

Still … Zeus’s presence felt reassuringly fa-

miliar. Even though Jason had never met his

father, he was reminded of all his happiest

moments – his birthday picnic with Piper in

828/982

Rome; the day Lupa showed him Camp

Jupiter for the first time; his games of hide-

and-seek with Thalia in their apartment

when he was tiny; an afternoon on the beach

when his mother had picked him up, kissed

him and showed him an oncoming storm.

Never be afraid of a thunderstorm, Jason.

That is your father, letting you know he

loves you.

Zeus smelled of rain and clean wind. He

made the air burn with energy. Up close, his

lightning bolt appeared as a bronze rod a

metre long, pointed on both ends, with

blades of energy extending from both sides

to form a javelin of white electricity. He

slashed across the giant’s path and Porphyri-

on collapsed into his makeshift throne,

which crumbled under the giant’s weight.

‘No throne for you,’ Zeus growled. ‘Not

here. Not ever.’

829/982

‘You cannot stop us!’ the giant yelled. ‘It is done! The Earth Mother is awake!’

In answer, Zeus blasted the throne to

rubble. The giant king flew backwards out of

the temple and Jason ran after him, his fath-

er at his heels.

They backed Porphyrion to the edge of the

cliffs, the whole of modern Athens spread

out below. Lightning had melted all the

weapons in the giant’s hair. Molten Celestial

bronze dripped through his dreadlocks like

caramel. His skin steamed and blistered.

Porphyrion snarled and raised his spear.

‘Your cause is lost, Zeus. Even if you defeat

me, the Earth Mother shall simply raise me

again!’

‘Then perhaps,’ Zeus said, ‘you should not

die in the embrace of Gaia. Jason, my son …’

Jason had never felt so good, so recog-

nized, as when he father said his name. It

was like last winter at Camp Half-Blood,

830/982

when his erased memories had finally re-

turned. Jason suddenly understood another

layer of his existence – a part of his identity

that had been cloudy before.

Now he had no doubt: he was the son of

Jupiter, god of the sky. He was his father’s

child.

Jason advanced.

Porphyrion lashed out wildly with his

spear, but Jason cut it in half with his gladi-

us. He charged in, jabbing his sword through the giant’s breastplate, then summoned the

winds and blasted Porphyrion off the edge of

the cliff.

As the giant fell, screaming, Zeus pointed

his lightning bolt. An arc of pure white heat

vaporized Porphyrion in midair. His ashes

drifted down in a gentle cloud, dusting the

tops of the olive trees on the slopes of the

Acropolis.

831/982

Zeus turned to Jason. His lightning bolt

flickered off, and Zeus clipped the Celestial

bronze rod to his belt. The god’s eyes were

stormy grey. His salt-and-pepper hair and

his beard looked like stratus clouds. Jason

found it strange that the lord of the universe,

king of Olympus, was only a few inches taller

than he was.

‘My son.’ Zeus clasped Jason’s shoulder.

‘There is so much I would like to tell you …’

The god took a heavy breath, making the

air crackle and Jason’s new glasses fog up.

‘Alas, as king of the gods, I must not show fa-

vouritism to my children. When we return to

the other Olympians, I will not be able to

praise you as much as I would like, or give

you as much credit as you deserve.’

‘I don’t want praise.’ Jason’s voice

quavered. ‘Just a little time together would

be nice. I mean, I don’t even know you.’

832/982

Zeus’s gaze was as far away as the ozone

layer. ‘I am always with you, Jason. I have

watched your progress with pride, but it will

never be possible for us to be …’

He curled his fingers, as if trying to pluck

the right words out of the air. Close. Normal.

A true father and son. ‘From birth, you were destined to be Hera’s – to appease her wrath.

Even your name, Jason, was her choice. You

did not ask for this. I did not want it. But

when I gave you over to her … I had no idea

what a good man you would become. Your

journey has shaped you, made you both kind

and great. Whatever happens when we re-

turn to the Parthenon, know that I do not

hold you accountable. You have proven your-

self a true hero.’

Jason’s emotions were a jumble in his

chest. ‘What do you mean … whatever

happens?’

833/982

‘The worst is not over,’ Zeus warned. ‘And

someone must take the blame for what has

happened. Come.’

ll

Jason

NOTHING WAS LEFT OF THE GIANTS except

heaps of ash, a few spears and some burning

dreadlocks.

The Argo II was still aloft, barely, moored to the top of the Parthenon. Half the ship’s

oars were broken off or tangled. Smoke

streamed from several large splits in the hull.

The sails were peppered with burning holes.

Leo looked almost as bad. He stood in the

midst of the temple with the other crew-

members, his face covered in soot, his

clothes smouldering.

836/982

The gods fanned out in a semicircle as

Zeus approached. None of them seemed par-

ticularly joyful about their victory.

Apollo and Artemis stood together in the

shadow of a column, as if trying to hide.

Hera and Poseidon were having an intense

discussion with another goddess in green

and gold robes – perhaps Demeter. Nike

tried to put a golden laurel wreath on Hec-

ate’s head, but the goddess of magic swatted

it away. Hermes sneaked close to Athena, at-

tempting to put his arm around her. Athena

turned her aegis shield his way and Hermes scuffled off.

The only Olympian who seemed in a good

mood was Ares. He laughed and panto-

mimed gutting an enemy while Frank

listened, his expression polite but queasy.

‘Brethren,’ Zeus said, ‘we are healed,

thanks to the work of these demigods. The

Athena Parthenos, which once stood in this

837/982

temple, now stands at Camp Half-Blood. It

has united our offspring, and thus our own

essences.’

‘Lord Zeus,’ Piper spoke up, ‘is Reyna

okay? Nico and Coach Hedge?’

Jason couldn’t quite believe Piper was ask-

ing after Reyna’s health, but it made him

glad.

Zeus knitted his cloud-coloured eyebrows.

‘They succeeded in their mission. As of this

moment they are alive. Whether or not they

are okay –’

‘There is still work to be done,’ Queen

Hera interrupted. She spread her arms like

she wanted a group hug. ‘But my heroes …

you have triumphed over the giants as I

knew you would. My plan succeeded

beautifully.’

Zeus turned on his wife. Thunder shook

the Acropolis. ‘Hera, do not dare take credit!

838/982

You have caused at least as many problems

as you’ve fixed!’

The queen of heaven blanched. ‘Husband,

surely you see now – this was the only way.’

‘There is never only one way!’ Zeus bel-

lowed. ‘That is why there are three Fates, not one. Is this not so?’

By the ruins of the giant king’s throne, the

three old ladies silently bowed their heads in

recognition. Jason noticed that the other

gods stayed well away from the Fates and

their gleaming brass clubs.

‘Please, husband.’ Hera tried for a smile,

but she was so clearly frightened that Jason

almost felt sorry for her. ‘I only did what I –’

‘Silence!’ Zeus snapped. ‘You disobeyed

my orders. Nevertheless … I recognize that

you acted with honest intentions. The valour

of these seven heroes has proven that you

were not entirely without wisdom.’

839/982

Hera looked like she wanted to argue, but

she kept her mouth shut.

‘Apollo, however …’ Zeus glared into the

shadows where the twins were standing. ‘My

son, come here.’

Apollo inched forward like he was walking

the plank. He looked so much like a teenage

demigod it was unnerving – no more than

seventeen, wearing jeans and a Camp Half-

Blood T-shirt, with a bow over his shoulder

and a sword at his belt. With his tousled

blond hair and blue eyes, he might’ve been

Jason’s brother on the mortal side as well as

the godly side.

Jason wondered if Apollo had assumed

this form to be inconspicuous, or to look piti-

able to his father. The fear in Apollo’s face

certainly looked real, and also very human.

The Three Fates gathered around the god,

circling him, their withered hands raised.

‘Twice you have defied me,’ Zeus said.

840/982

Apollo moistened his lips. ‘My – my lord –’

‘You neglected your duties. You suc-

cumbed to flattery and vanity. You encour-

aged your descendant Octavian to follow his

dangerous path, and you prematurely re-

vealed a prophecy that may yet destroy us

all.’

‘But –’

‘Enough!’ Zeus boomed. ‘We will speak of

your punishment later. For now, you will

wait on Olympus.’

Zeus flicked his hand, and Apollo turned

into a cloud of glitter. The Fates swirled

around him, dissolving into air, and the glit-

tery whirlwind shot into the sky.

‘What will happen to him?’ Jason asked.

The gods stared at him, but Jason didn’t

care. Having actually met Zeus, he had a

newfound sympathy for Apollo.

‘It is not your concern,’ Zeus said. ‘We

have other problems to address.’

841/982

An uncomfortable silence settled over the

Parthenon.

It didn’t feel right to let the matter go.

Jason didn’t see how Apollo deserved to be

singled out for punishment.

Someone must take the blame, Zeus had

said.

But why?

‘Father,’ Jason said, ‘I made a vow to hon-

our all the gods. I promised Kymopoleia that

once this war is over none of the gods would

be without shrines at the camps.’

Zeus scowled. ‘That’s fine. But … Kym

who?’

Poseidon coughed into his fist. ‘She’s one

of mine.’

‘My point,’ Jason said, ‘is that blaming

each other isn’t going solve anything. That’s

how the Romans and Greeks got divided in

the first place.’

842/982

The air became dangerously ionized.

Jason’s scalp tingled.

He realized he was risking his father’s

wrath. He might get turned into glitter or

blasted off the Acropolis. He’d known his

dad for five minutes and made a good im-

pression. Now he was throwing it away.

A good Roman wouldn’t keep talking.

Jason kept talking. ‘Apollo wasn’t the

problem. To punish him for Gaia waking is –’

he wanted to say stupid, but he caught him-

self – ‘unwise.’

‘Unwise.’ Zeus’s voice was almost a whis-

per. ‘Before the assembled gods, you would

call me unwise.’

Jason’s friends watched on full alert. Percy

looked like he was ready to jump in and fight

at his side.

Then Artemis stepped out of the shadows.

‘Father, this hero has fought long and hard

843/982

for our cause. His nerves are frayed. We

should take that into account.’

Jason started to protest, but Artemis

stopped him with a glance. Her expression

sent a message so clear she might have been

speaking in his mind: Thank you, demigod.

But do not press this. I will reason with Zeus

when he is calmer.

‘Surely, Father,’ the goddess continued,

‘we should attend to our more pressing prob-

lems, as you pointed out.’

‘Gaia,’ Annabeth chimed in, clearly

anxious to change the topic. ‘She’s awake,

isn’t she?’

Zeus turned towards her. Around Jason,

the air molecules stopped humming. His

skull felt like it had just come out of the

microwave.

‘That is correct,’ Zeus said. ‘The blood of

Olympus was spilled. She is fully conscious.’

844/982

‘Oh, come on!’ Percy complained. ‘I get a

little nosebleed and I wake up the entire

earth? That’s not fair!’

Athena shouldered her aegis. ‘Complain-

ing of unfairness is like assigning blame,

Percy Jackson. It does no one any good.’ She

gave Jason an approving glance. ‘Now you

must move quickly. Gaia rises to destroy

your camp.’

Poseidon leaned on his trident. ‘For once,

Athena is right.’

‘ For once? ’ Athena protested.

‘Why would Gaia be back at camp?’ Leo

asked. ‘Percy’s nosebleed was here.’

‘Dude,’ Percy said, ‘first off, you heard

Athena – don’t blame my nose. Second,

Gaia’s the earth. She can pop up anywhere

she wants. Besides, she told us she was going to do this. She said the first thing on her to-do list was destroying our camp. Question is:

how do we stop her?’

845/982

Frank looked at Zeus. ‘Um, sir, Your

Majesty, can’t you gods just pop over there

with us? You’ve got the chariots and the ma-

gic powers and whatnot.’

‘Yes!’ Hazel said. ‘We defeated the giants

together in two seconds. Let’s all go –’

‘No,’ Zeus said flatly.

‘No?’ Jason asked. ‘But, Father –’

Zeus’s eyes sparked with power, and Jason

realized he’d pushed his dad as far as he

could for today … and maybe for the next few

centuries.

‘That’s the problem with prophecies,’ Zeus

growled. ‘When Apollo allowed the Prophecy

of Seven to be spoken, and when Hera took it

upon herself to interpret the words, the Fates

wove the future in such a way that it had only

so many possible outcomes, so many solu-

tions. You seven, the demigods, are destined

to defeat Gaia. We, the gods, cannot. ’

846/982

‘I don’t get it,’ Piper said. ‘What’s the point

of being gods if you have to rely on puny

mortals to do your bidding?’

All the gods exchanged dark looks. Aph-

rodite, however, laughed gently and kissed

her daughter. ‘My dear Piper, don’t you think

we’ve been asking ourselves that question for thousands of years? But it is what binds us

together, keeps us eternal. We need you mor-

tals as much as you need us. Annoying as

that may be, it’s the truth.’

Frank shuffled uncomfortably, like he

missed being an elephant. ‘So how can we

possibly get to Camp Half-Blood in time to

save it? It took us months to reach Greece.’

‘The winds,’ Jason said. ‘Father, can’t you

unleash the winds to send our ship back?’

Zeus glowered. ‘I could slap you back to

Long Island.’

‘Um, was that a joke, or a threat, or –’

847/982

‘No,’ Zeus said, ‘I mean it quite literally. I

could slap your ship back to Camp Half-

Blood, but the force involved …’

Over by the ruined giant throne, the

grungy god in the mechanic’s uniform shook

his head. ‘My boy Leo built a good ship, but

it won’t sustain that kind of stress. It would

break apart as soon as it arrived, maybe

sooner.’

Leo straightened his tool belt. ‘The Argo II

can make it. It only has to stay in one piece

long enough to get us back home. Once

there, we can abandon ship.’

‘Dangerous,’ warned Hephaestus. ‘Perhaps

fatal.’

The goddess Nike twirled a laurel wreath

on her finger. ‘Victory is always dangerous.

And it often requires sacrifice. Leo Valdez

and I have discussed this.’ She stared poin-

tedly at Leo.

848/982

Jason didn’t like that at all. He re-

membered Asclepius’s grim expression when

the doctor had examined Leo. Oh, my. Oh, I

see … Jason knew what they had to do to defeat Gaia. He knew the risks. But he wanted

to take those risks himself, not put them on

Leo.

Piper will have the physician’s cure, he

told himself. She’ll keep us both covered.

‘Leo,’ Annabeth said, ‘what is Nike talking

about?’

Leo waved off the question. ‘The usual.

Victory. Sacrifice. Blah, blah, blah. Doesn’t

matter. We can do this, guys. We have to do this.’

A feeling of dread settled over Jason. Zeus

was correct about one thing: the worst was

yet to come.

When the choice comes, Notus the South

Wind had told him, storm or fire, do not

despair.

849/982

Jason made the choice. ‘Leo’s right. All

aboard for one last trip.’

ll I

Jason

SO MUCH FOR A TENDER FAREWELL.

The last Jason saw of his dad, Zeus was a

hundred feet tall, holding the Argo II by its prow. He boomed, ‘ HOLD ON! ’

Then he tossed the ship up and spiked it

overhand like a volleyball.

If Jason hadn’t been strapped to the mast

with one of Leo’s twenty-point safety har-

nesses, he would have disintegrated. As it

was, his stomach tried to stay behind in

Greece and all the air was sucked out of his

lungs.

852/982

The sky turned black. The ship rattled and

creaked. The deck cracked like thin ice under

Jason’s legs and, with a sonic boom, the

Argo II hurtled out of the clouds.

‘Jason!’ Leo shouted. ‘Hurry!’

His fingers felt like melted plastic, but

Jason managed to undo the straps.

Leo was lashed to the control console, des-

perately trying to right the ship as they spir-

alled downward in free fall. The sails were on

fire. Festus creaked in alarm. A catapult

peeled away and lifted into the air. Centrifu-

gall force sent the shields flying off the rail-

ings like metal Frisbees.

Wider cracks opened in the deck as Jason

staggered towards the hold, using the winds

to keep himself anchored.

If he couldn’t make it to the others …

Then the hatch burst open. Frank and

Hazel stumbled through, pulling on the

guide rope they’d attached to the mast.

853/982

Piper, Annabeth and Percy followed, all of

them looking disoriented.

‘Go!’ Leo yelled. ‘Go, go, go!’

For once, Leo’s tone was deadly serious.

They’d talked through their evacuation

plan, but that slap across the world had

made Jason’s mind sluggish. Judging from

the others’ expressions, they weren’t in much

better shape.

Buford the table saved them. He clattered

across the deck with his holographic Hedge

blaring, ‘LET’S GO! MOVE IT! CUT THAT

OUT!’

Then his tabletop split into helicopter

blades and Buford buzzed away.

Frank changed form. Instead of a dazed

demigod, he was now a dazed grey dragon.

Hazel climbed onto his neck. Frank grabbed

Percy and Annabeth in his front claws, then

spread his wings and soared away.

854/982

Jason held Piper by the waist, ready to fly,

but he made the mistake of glancing down.

The view was a spinning kaleidoscope of sky,

earth, sky, earth. The ground was getting aw-

fully close.

‘Leo, you won’t make it!’ Jason shouted.

‘Come with us!’

‘No! Get out of here!’

‘Leo!’ Piper tried. ‘Please –’

‘Save your charmspeak, Pipes! I told you,

I’ve got a plan. Now shoo!’

Jason took a last look at the splintering

ship.

The Argo II had been their home for so

long. Now they were abandoning it for good

– and leaving Leo behind.

Jason hated it, but he saw the determina-

tion in Leo’s eyes. Just like the visit with his

father, Zeus, there was no time for a proper

goodbye.

855/982

Jason harnessed the winds, and he and

Piper shot into the sky.

The ground wasn’t much less chaotic.

As they plummeted, Jason saw a vast army

of monsters spread across the hills –

cynocephali, two-headed men, wild cen-

taurs, ogres and others he couldn’t even

name – surrounding two tiny islands of

demigods. At the crest of Half-Blood Hill,

gathered at the feet of the Athena Parthenos,

was the main force of Camp Half-Blood

along with the First and Fifth Cohorts, ral-

lied around the golden eagle of the legion.

The other three Roman cohorts were in a de-

fensive formation several hundred yards

away and seemed to be taking the brunt of

the attack.

Giant eagles circled Jason, screeching ur-

gently, as if looking for orders.

856/982

Frank the grey dragon flew alongside with

his passengers.

‘Hazel!’ Jason yelled. ‘Those three cohorts

are in trouble! If they don’t merge with the

rest of the demigods –’

‘On it!’ Hazel said. ‘Go, Frank!’

Dragon Frank veered to the left with An-

nabeth in one claw yelling, ‘Let’s get ’em!’

and Percy in the other claw screaming, ‘I

hate flying!’

Piper and Jason veered right towards the

summit of Half-Blood Hill.

Jason’s heart lifted when he saw Nico di

Angelo on the front lines with the Greeks,

slashing his way through a crowd of two-

headed men. A few feet away, Reyna sat

astride a new pegasus, her sword drawn. She

shouted orders at the legion, and the Ro-

mans obeyed without question, as if she’d

never been away.

857/982

Jason didn’t see Octavian anywhere. Good.

Neither did he see a colossal earth goddess

laying waste to the world. Very good. Per-

haps Gaia had risen, taken one look at the

modern world and decided to go back to

sleep. Jason wished they could be that lucky,

but he doubted it.

He and Piper landed on the hill, their

swords drawn, and a cheer went up from the

Greeks and the Romans.

‘About time!’ Reyna called. ‘Glad you could

join us!’

With a start, Jason realized she was ad-

dressing Piper, not him.

Piper grinned. ‘We had some giants to

kill!’

‘Excellent!’ Reyna returned the smile.

‘Help yourself to some barbarians.’

‘Why, thank you!’

The two girls launched into battle side by

side.

858/982

Nico nodded to Jason as if they’d just seen

each other five minutes ago, then went back

to turning two-headed men into no-headed

corpses. ‘Good timing. Where’s the ship?’

Jason pointed. The Argo II streaked across the sky in a ball of fire, shedding burning

chunks of mast, hull and armament. Jason

didn’t see how even fireproof Leo could sur-

vive in that inferno, but he had to hope.

‘Gods,’ Nico said. ‘Is everyone okay?’

‘Leo …’ Jason’s voice broke. ‘He said he

had a plan.’

The comet disappeared behind the west-

ern hills. Jason waited with dread for the

sound of an explosion, but he heard nothing

over the roar of battle.

Nico met his eyes. ‘He’ll be fine.’

‘Sure.’

‘But just in case … For Leo.’

‘For Leo,’ Jason agreed. They charged into

the fight.

859/982

Jason’s anger gave him renewed strength.

The Greeks and Romans slowly pushed back

the enemies. Wild centaurs toppled. Wolf-

headed men howled as they were cut to

ashes.

More monsters kept appearing – karpoi

grain spirits swirling out of the grass,

gryphons diving from the sky, lumpy clay hu-

manoids that made Jason think of evil Play-

Doh men.

‘They’re ghosts with earthen shells!’ Nico

warned. ‘Don’t let them hit you!’

Obviously Gaia had kept some surprises in

reserve.

At one point, Will Solace, the lead camper

for Apollo, ran up to Nico and said

something in his ear. Over the yelling and

clashing of blades, Jason couldn’t hear the

words.

‘Jason, I have to go!’ Nico said.

860/982

Jason didn’t really understand, but he

nodded, and Will and Nico dashed off into

the fray.

A moment later, a squad of Hermes

campers gathered around Jason for no ap-

parent reason.

Connor Stoll grinned. ‘What’s up, Grace?’

‘I’m good,’ Jason said. ‘You?’

Connor dodged an ogre club and stabbed a

grain spirit, which exploded in a cloud of

wheat. ‘Yeah, can’t complain. Nice day for it.’

Reyna yelled, ‘ Eiaculare flammas! ’ and a wave of flaming arrows arced over the legion’s shield wall, destroying a platoon of

ogres. The Roman ranks moved forward, im-

paling centaurs and trampling wounded

ogres under their bronze-tipped boots.

Somewhere downhill, Jason heard Frank

Zhang yell in Latin: ‘ Repellere equites! ’

A massive herd of centaurs parted in a

panic as the legion’s other three cohorts

861/982

ploughed through in perfect formation, their

spears bright with monster blood. Frank

marched before them. On the left flank, rid-

ing Arion, Hazel beamed with pride.

‘ Ave, Praetor Zhang!’ Reyna called.

‘ Ave, Praetor Ramírez-Arellano!’ Frank

said. ‘Let’s do this. Legion, CLOSE RANKS!’

A cheer went up among the Romans as the

five cohorts melded into one massive killing

machine. Frank pointed his sword forward

and, from the golden eagle standard, tendrils

of lightning swept across the enemy, turning

several hundred monsters to toast.

‘Legion, cuneum formate!’ Reyna yelled.

‘Advance!’

Another cheer on Jason’s right as Percy

and Annabeth reunited with the forces of

Camp Half-Blood.

‘Greeks!’ Percy yelled. ‘Let’s, um, fight

stuff!’

They yelled like banshees and charged.

862/982

Jason grinned. He loved the Greeks. They

had no organization whatsoever, but they

made up for it with enthusiasm.

Jason was feeling good about the battle,

except for two big questions: Where was

Leo? And where was Gaia?

Unfortunately, he got the second answer

first.

Under his feet, the earth rippled as if Half-

Blood Hill had become a giant water mat-

tress. Demigods fell. Ogres slipped. Centaurs

charged face-first into the grass.

AWAKE, a voice boomed all around them.

A hundred yards away, at the crest of the

next hill, the grass and soil swirled upward

like the point of a massive drill. The column

of earth thickened into the twenty-foot-tall

figure of a woman – her dress woven from

blades of grass, her skin as white as quartz,

her hair brown and tangled like tree roots.

863/982

‘ Little fools. ’ Gaia the Earth Mother

opened her pure green eyes. ‘ The paltry ma-

gic of your statue cannot contain me. ’

As she said it, Jason realized why Gaia

hadn’t appeared until now. The Athena

Parthenos had been protecting the demi-

gods, holding back the wrath of the earth,

but even Athena’s might could only last so

long against a primordial goddess.

Fear as palpable as a cold front washed

over the demigod army.

‘Stand fast!’ Piper shouted, her charm-

speak clear and loud. ‘Greeks and Romans,

we can fight her together!’

Gaia laughed. She spread her arms and the

earth bent towards her – trees tilting, bed-

rock groaning, soil rippling in waves. Jason

rose on the wind, but all around him mon-

sters and demigods alike started to sink into

the ground. One of Octavian’s onagers

864/982

capsized and disappeared into the side of the

hill.

‘ The whole earth is my body,’ Gaia

boomed. ‘ How would you fight the goddess

of –’

FOOOOMP!

In a flash of bronze, Gaia was swept off the

hillside, snarled in the claws of a fifty-ton

metal dragon.

Festus, reborn, rose into the sky on gleam-

ing wings, spewing fire from his maw tri-

umphantly. As he ascended, the rider on his

back got smaller and more difficult to dis-

cern, but Leo’s grin was unmistakable.

‘Pipes! Jason!’ he shouted down. ‘You

coming? The fight is up here!’

ll I I

Jason

AS SOON AS GAIA ACHIEVED LIFTOFF, the

ground solidified.

Demigods stopped sinking, though many

were still buried up to their waists. Sadly, the

monsters seemed to be digging themselves

out more quickly. They charged the Greek

and Roman ranks, taking advantage of the

demigods’ disorganization.

Jason put his arms around Piper’s waist.

He was about to take off when Percy yelled,

‘Wait! Frank can fly the rest of us up there!

We can all –’

867/982

‘No, man,’ Jason said. ‘They need you

here. There’s still an army to defeat. Besides,

the prophecy –’

‘He’s right.’ Frank gripped Percy’s arm.

‘You have to let them do this, Percy. It’s like

Annabeth’s quest in Rome. Or Hazel at the

Doors of Death. This part can only be them.’

Percy obviously didn’t like it, but at that

moment a flood of monsters swept over the

Greek forces. Annabeth called to him, ‘Hey!

Problem over here!’ Percy ran to join her.

Frank and Hazel turned to Jason. They

raised their arms in the Roman salute, then

ran off to regroup the legion.

Jason and Piper spiralled upward on the

wind.

‘I’ve got the cure,’ Piper murmured like a

chant. ‘It’ll be fine. I’ve got the cure.’

Jason realized she’d lost her sword some-

how during the battle, but he doubted it

would matter. Against Gaia, a sword would

868/982

do no good. This was about storm and fire …

and a third power, Piper’s charmspeak,

which would hold them together. Last

winter, Piper had slowed the power of Gaia

at the Wolf House, helping to free Hera from

a cage of earth. Now she would have an even

bigger job.

As they ascended, Jason gathered the wind

and clouds around him. The sky responded

with frightening speed. Soon they were in the

eye of a maelstrom. Lightning burned his

eyes. Thunder made his teeth vibrate.

Directly above them, Festus grappled with

the earth goddess. Gaia kept disintegrating,

trying to trickle back to the ground, but the

winds kept her aloft. Festus sprayed her with

flames, which seemed to force her into solid

form. Meanwhile, from Festus’s back, Leo

blasted the goddess with flames of his own

and hurled insults. ‘Potty Sludge! Dirt Face!

869/982

THIS IS FOR MY MOTHER, ESPERANZA

VALDEZ!’

His whole body was wreathed in fire. Rain

hung in the stormy air, but it only sizzled and

steamed around him.

Jason zoomed towards them.

Gaia turned into loose white sand, but

Jason summoned a squadron of venti who

churned around her, constraining her in a

cocoon of wind.

Gaia fought back. When she wasn’t disin-

tegrating, she lashed out with shrapnel blasts

of stone and soil that Jason barely deflected.

Stoking the storm, containing Gaia, keeping

himself and Piper aloft … Jason had never

done anything so difficult. He felt like he was

covered in lead weights, trying to swim with

only his legs while holding a car over his

head. But he had to keep Gaia off the

ground.

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That was the secret Kym had hinted at

when they spoke at the bottom of the sea.

Long ago, Ouranos the sky god had been

tricked down to the earth by Gaia and the

Titans. They’d held him on the ground so he

couldn’t escape and, with his powers

weakened from being so far from his home

territory, they’d been able to cut him apart.

Now Jason, Leo and Piper had to reverse

that scenario. They had to keep Gaia away

from her source of power – the earth – and

weaken her until she could be defeated.

Together they rose. Festus creaked and

groaned with the effort, but he continued to

gain altitude. Jason still didn’t understand

how Leo had managed to remake the dragon.

Then he recalled all the hours Leo had spent

working inside the hull over the last few

weeks. Leo must have been planning this all

along and building a new body for Festus

within the framework of the ship.

871/982

He must have known in his gut that the

Argo II would eventually fall apart. A ship turning into a dragon … Jason supposed it

was no more amazing than the dragon turn-

ing into a suitcase back in Quebec.

However it had happened, Jason was

elated to see their old friend in action once

more.

‘ YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME! ’ Gaia

crumbled to sand, only to get blasted by

more flames. Her body melted into a lump of

glass, shattered, then re-formed again as hu-

man. ‘ I AM ETERNAL! ’

‘Eternally annoying!’ Leo yelled, and he

urged Festus higher.

Jason and Piper rose with them.

‘Get me closer,’ Piper urged. ‘I need to be

next to her.’

‘Piper, the flames and the shrapnel –’

‘I know.’

872/982

Jason moved in until they were right next

to Gaia. The winds encased the goddess,

keeping her solid, but it was all Jason could

do to contain her blasts of sand and soil. Her

eyes were solid green, like all nature had

been condensed into a few spoonfuls of or-

ganic matter.

‘ FOOLISH CHILDREN! ’ Her face contor-

ted with miniature earthquakes and

mudslides.

‘You are so weary,’ Piper told the goddess,

her voice radiating kindness and sympathy.

‘Aeons of pain and disappointment weigh on

you.’

‘ SILENCE! ’

The force of Gaia’s anger was so great that

Jason momentarily lost control of the wind.

He would’ve dropped into free fall, but Fes-

tus caught him and Piper in his other huge

claw.

873/982

Amazingly, Piper kept her focus. ‘Millen-

nia of sorrow,’ she told Gaia. ‘Your husband

Ouranos was abusive. Your grandchildren

the gods overthrew your beloved children the

Titans. Your other children, the Cyclopes and

the Hundred-Handed Ones, were thrown in-

to Tartarus. You are so tired of heartache.’

‘ LIES! ’ Gaia crumbled into a tornado of

soil and grass, but her essence seemed to

churn more sluggishly.

If they gained any more altitude, the air

would be too thin to breathe. Jason would be

too weak to control it. Piper’s talk of exhaus-

tion affected him, too, sapping his strength,

making his body feel heavy.

‘What you want,’ Piper continued, ‘more

than victory, more than revenge … you want

rest. You are so weary, so incomprehensibly tired of the ungrateful mortals and

immortals.’

874/982

‘ I – YOU DO NOT SPEAK FOR ME – YOU

CANNOT –’

‘You want one thing,’ Piper said sooth-

ingly, her voice resonating through Jason’s

bones. ‘One word. You want permission to

close your eyes and forget your troubles. You

– want – SLEEP.’

Gaia solidified into human form. Her head

lolled, her eyes closed, and she went limp in

Festus’s claw.

Unfortunately, Jason started to black out,

too.

The wind was dying. The storm dissipated.

Dark spots danced in his eyes.

‘Leo!’ Piper gasped for breath. ‘We only

have a few seconds. My charmspeak won’t –’

‘I know!’ Leo looked like he was made of

fire. Flames rippled beneath his skin, illu-

minating his skull. Festus steamed and

glowed, his claws burning through Jason’s

shirt. ‘I can’t contain the fire much longer.

875/982

I’ll vaporize her. Don’t worry. But you guys

need to leave.’

‘No!’ Jason said. ‘We have to stay with you.

Piper’s got the cure. Leo, you can’t –’

‘Hey.’ Leo grinned, which was unnerving

in the flames, his teeth like molten silver in-

gots. ‘I told you I had a plan. When are you

going to trust me? And by the way – I love

you guys.’

Festus’s claw opened, and Jason and Piper

fell.

Jason had no strength to stop it. He held

on to Piper as she cried Leo’s name, and they

plummeted earthwards.

Festus became an indistinct ball of fire in

the sky – a second sun – growing smaller

and hotter. Then, in the corner of Jason’s

eye, a blazing comet streaked upward from

the ground with a high-pitched, almost hu-

man scream. Just before Jason blacked out,

876/982

the comet intercepted the ball of fire above

them.

The explosion turned the entire sky gold.

ll I I I

Nico

NICO HAD WITNESSED MANY FORMS OF

DEATH. He didn’t think anything could sur-

prise him any more.

He was wrong.

In the middle of the battle, Will Solace ran

up to him and said one word in his ear:

‘Octavian.’

That got Nico’s full attention. He had hes-

itated when he’d had the chance to kill

Octavian, but there was no way Nico would

let that scumbag augur escape justice.

‘Where?’

‘Come on,’ Will said. ‘Hurry.’

879/982

Nico turned to Jason, who was fighting

next to him. ‘Jason, I have to go.’

Then he plunged into the chaos, following

Will. They passed Tyson and his Cyclopes,

who were bellowing, ‘Bad dog! Bad dog!’ as

they bashed the heads of the cynocephali.

Grover Underwood and a team of satyrs

danced around with their panpipes, playing

harmonies so dissonant that the earthen-

shelled ghosts cracked apart. Travis Stoll ran

past, arguing with his brother. ‘What do you

mean we set the landmines on the wrong

hill?’

Nico and Will were halfway down the hill

when the ground trembled under their feet.

Like everyone else – monster and demigod

alike – they froze in horror and watched as

the whirling column of earth erupted from

the top of the next hill, and Gaia appeared in

all her glory.

880/982

Then something large and bronze swooped

out of the sky.

FOOOOMP!

Festus the bronze dragon snatched up the

Earth Mother and soared away with her.

‘What – how –?’ Nico stammered.

‘I don’t know,’ Will said. ‘But I doubt

there’s much we can do about that. We have other problems.’

Will sprinted towards the nearest onager.

As they got closer, Nico spotted Octavian

furiously re-adjusting the machine’s target-

ing levers. The throwing arm was already

primed with a full payload of Imperial gold

and explosives. The augur rushed about,

tripping over gears and anchor spikes, fum-

bling with the ropes. Every so often he

glanced up at Festus the dragon.

‘Octavian!’ Nico yelled.

The augur spun, then backed up against

the huge sphere of ammunition. His fine

881/982

purple robes snagged on the trigger rope, but

Octavian didn’t notice. Fumes from the pay-

load curled about him as if drawn to the Im-

perial gold jewellery around his arms and

neck, the golden wreath in his hair.

‘Oh, I see!’ Octavian’s laughter was brittle

and quite insane. ‘Trying to steal my glory,

eh? No, no, son of Pluto. I am the saviour of

Rome. I was promised!’

Will raised his hands in a placating ges-

ture. ‘Octavian, get away from the onager.

That isn’t safe.’

‘Of course it’s not! I will shoot Gaia down

with this machine!’

Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw

Jason Grace rocket into the sky with Piper in

his arms, flying straight towards Festus.

Around the son of Jupiter, storm clouds

gathered, swirling into a hurricane. Thunder

boomed.

882/982

‘You see?’ Octavian cried. The gold on his

body was definitely smoking now, attracted

to the catapult’s payload like iron to a giant

magnet. ‘The gods approve of my actions!’

‘Jason is making that storm,’ Nico said. ‘If

you fire the onager, you’ll kill him and Piper,

and –’

‘Good!’ Octavian yelled. ‘They’re traitors!

All traitors!’

‘Listen to me,’ Will tried again. ‘This is not

what Apollo would want. Besides, your robes

are –’

‘You know nothing, Graecus!’ Octavian

wrapped his hand around the release lever. ‘I

must act before they get any higher. Only an

onager such as this can make the shot. I will

singlehandedly –’

‘Centurion,’ said a voice behind him.

From the back of the siege engine, Michael

Kahale appeared. He had a large red knot on

his forehead where Tyson had knocked him

883/982

unconscious. He stumbled as he walked. But

somehow he had found his way here from

the shore, and along the way he’d picked up

a sword and shield.

‘Michael!’ Octavian shrieked with glee.

‘Excellent! Guard me while I fire this onager.

Then we will kill these Graeci together!’

Michael Kahale took in the scene – his

boss’s robes tangled in the trigger rope,

Octavian’s jewellery fuming from proximity

to the Imperial gold ammunition. He glanced

up at the dragon, now high in the air, sur-

rounded by rings of storm clouds like the

circles of an archery target. Then he scowled

at Nico.

Nico readied his own sword.

Surely Michael Kahale would warn his

leader to step away from the onager. Surely

he would attack.

‘Are you certain, Octavian?’ asked the son

of Venus.

884/982

‘Yes!’

‘Are you absolutely certain?’

‘Yes, you fool! I will be remembered as the

saviour of Rome. Now keep them away while

I destroy Gaia!’

‘Octavian, don’t,’ Will pleaded. ‘We can’t

allow you –’

‘Will,’ Nico said, ‘we can’t stop him.’

Solace stared at him in disbelief, but Nico

remembered his father’s words in the Chapel

of Bones: Some deaths cannot be prevented.

Octavian’s eyes gleamed. ‘That’s right, son

of Pluto. You are helpless to stop me! It is my

destiny! Kahale, stand guard!’

‘As you wish.’ Michael moved in front of

the machine, interposing himself between

Octavian and the two Greek demigods. ‘Cen-

turion, do what you must.’

Octavian turned to release the catch. ‘A

good friend to the last.’

885/982

Nico almost lost his nerve. If the onager

really did fire true – if it scored a hit on Festus the dragon, and Nico allowed his friends

to be hurt or killed … But he stayed where he

was. For once, he decided to trust the wis-

dom of his father. Some deaths should not be prevented.

‘Goodbye, Gaia!’ Octavian yelled.

‘Goodbye, Jason Grace the traitor!’

Octavian cut the release wire with his au-

gur’s knife.

And he disappeared.

The catapult arm sprang upward faster

than Nico’s eye could follow, launching

Octavian along with the ammunition. The

augur’s scream faded until he was simply

part of the fiery comet soaring skyward.

‘Goodbye, Octavian,’ Michael Kahale said.

He glared at Will and Nico one last time,

as if daring them to speak. Then he turned

his back and trudged away.

886/982

Nico could have lived with Octavian’s end.

He might even have said good riddance.

But his heart sank as the comet kept gain-

ing altitude. It disappeared into the storm

clouds, and the sky exploded in a dome of

fire.

ll I V

Nico

THE NEXT DAY, THERE WEREN’T MANY

ANSWERS.

After the explosion, Piper and Jason –

free-falling and unconscious – were plucked

out of the sky by giant eagles and brought to

safety, but Leo did not reappear. The entire

Hephaestus cabin scoured the valley, finding

bits and pieces of the Argo II’s broken hull, but no sign of Festus the dragon or his

master.

All the monsters had been destroyed or

scattered. Greek and Roman casualties were

889/982

heavy, but not nearly as bad as they might

have been.

Overnight, the satyrs and nymphs disap-

peared into the woods for a convocation of

the Cloven Elders. In the morning, Grover

Underwood reappeared to announce that

they could not sense the Earth Mother’s

presence. Nature was more or less back to

normal. Apparently, Jason, Piper and Leo’s

plan had worked. Gaia had been separated

from her source of power, charmed to sleep

and then atomized in the combined explo-

sion of Leo’s fire and Octavian’s man-made

comet.

An immortal could never die, but now

Gaia would be like her husband, Ouranos.

The earth would continue to function as nor-

mal, just as the sky did, but Gaia was now so

dispersed and powerless that she could never

again form a consciousness.

At least, that was the hope …

890/982

Octavian would be remembered for saving

Rome by hurling himself into the sky in a

fiery ball of death. But it was Leo Valdez who

had made the real sacrifice.

The victory celebration at camp was

muted, due to grief – not just for Leo but

also for the many others who had died in

battle. Shrouded demigods, both Greek and

Roman, were burned at the campfire, and

Chiron asked Nico to oversee the burial rites.

Nico agreed immediately. He was grateful

for the opportunity to honour the dead. Even

the hundreds of spectators didn’t bother

him.

The hardest part was afterwards, when

Nico and the six demigods from the Argo II

met on the porch of the Big House.

Jason hung his head, even his glasses lost

in shadow. ‘We should have been there at the

end. We could’ve helped Leo.’

891/982

‘It’s not right,’ Piper agreed, wiping away

her tears. ‘All that work getting the physi-

cian’s cure, for nothing. ’

Hazel broke down crying. ‘Piper, where’s

the cure? Bring it out.’

Bewildered, Piper reached into her belt

pouch. She produced the chamois-cloth

package, but when she unfolded the cloth it

was empty.

All eyes turned to Hazel.

‘How?’ Annabeth asked.

Frank put his arm around Hazel. ‘In Delos,

Leo pulled the two of us aside. He pleaded

with us to help him.’

Through her tears, Hazel explained how

she had switched the physician’s cure for an

illusion – a trick of the Mist – so that Leo

could keep the real vial. Frank told them

about Leo’s plan to destroy a weakened Gaia

with one massive fiery explosion. After talk-

ing with Nike and Apollo, Leo had been

892/982

certain that such an explosion would kill any

mortal within a quarter of a mile, so he knew

he would have to get far away from everyone.

‘He wanted to do it alone,’ Frank said. ‘He

thought there would be a slim chance that

he, a son of Hephaestus, could survive the

fire, but if anyone was with him … He said

that Hazel and I, being Roman, would un-

derstand about sacrifice. But he knew the

rest of you would never allow it.’

At first the others looked angry, like they

wanted to scream and throw things. But, as

Frank and Hazel talked, the group’s rage

seemed to dissipate. It was hard to be mad at

Frank and Hazel when they were both cry-

ing. Also … the plan sounded exactly like the

sneaky, twisted, ridiculously annoying and

noble sort of thing Leo Valdez would do.

Finally Piper let out a sound somewhere

between a sob and a laugh. ‘If he were here

893/982

right now, I would kill him. How was he

planning to take the cure? He was alone!’

‘Maybe he found a way,’ Percy said. ‘This is

Leo we’re talking about. He might come back

any minute. Then we can take turns

strangling him.’

Nico and Hazel exchanged looks. They

both knew better, but they said nothing.

The next day, the second since the battle, Ro-

mans and Greeks worked side by side to

clean up the warzone and tend the wounded.

Blackjack the pegasus was recovering nicely

from his arrow wound. Guido had decided to

adopt Reyna as his human. Reluctantly, Lou

Ellen had agreed to turn her new pet piglets

back into Romans.

Will Solace hadn’t spoken with Nico since

the encounter at the onager. The son of

Apollo spent most of his time in the infirm-

ary, but whenever Nico saw him running

894/982

across camp to fetch more medical supplies,

or make a house call on some wounded

demigod, he felt a strange twinge of melan-

choly. No doubt Will Solace thought Nico

was a monster now, for letting Octavian kill

himself.

The Romans bivouacked next to the straw-

berry fields, where they insisted on building

their standard field camp. The Greeks

pitched in to help them raise the earthen

walls and dig the trenches. Nico had never

seen anything stranger or cooler. Dakota

shared Kool-Aid with the kids from the

Dionysus cabin. The children of Hermes and

Mercury laughed and told stories and brazenly stole things from just about everyone. Reyna, Annabeth and Piper were insep-

arable, roaming the camp as a trio to check

on the progress of the repairs. Chiron, escor-

ted by Frank and Hazel, inspected the

895/982

Roman troops and praised them for their

bravery.

By evening, the general mood had im-

proved somewhat. The dining hall pavilion

had never been so crowded. The Romans

were welcomed like old friends. Coach

Hedge roamed among the demigods, beam-

ing and holding his baby boy and saying,

‘Hey, you want to meet Chuck? This is my

boy, Chuck!’

The Aphrodite and Athena girls alike

cooed over the feisty little satyr baby, who

waved his pudgy fists, kicked his tiny hooves

and bleated, ‘Baaaa! Baaaa!’

Clarisse, who had been named the baby’s

godmother, trailed behind the coach like a

bodyguard and occasionally muttered, ‘All

right, all right. Give the kid some space.’

At announcement time, Chiron stepped

forward and raised his goblet.

896/982

‘Out of every tragedy,’ he said, ‘comes new

strength. Today, we thank the gods for this

victory. To the gods!’

The demigods all joined the toast, but their

enthusiasm seemed muted. Nico understood

the feeling: We saved the gods again, and

now we’re supposed to thank them?

Then Chiron said, ‘And to new friends!’

‘TO NEW FRIENDS!’

Hundreds of demigod voices echoed

across the hills.

At the campfire, everyone kept looking at

the stars, as if they expected Leo to come

back in some dramatic, last-minute surprise.

Maybe he’d swoop in, jump off Festus’s back

and launch into corny jokes. It didn’t

happen.

After a few songs, Reyna and Frank were

called to the front. They got a thunderous

round of applause from both the Greeks and

Romans. Up on Half-Blood Hill, the Athena

897/982

Parthenos glowed more brightly in moon-

light, as if to signal: These kids are all right.

‘Tomorrow,’ Reyna said, ‘we Romans must

return home. We appreciate your hospitality,

especially since we almost killed you –’

‘You almost got killed,’ Annabeth

corrected.

‘Whatever, Chase.’

Oooooohhhhh! the crowd said as one.

Then everybody started laughing and push-

ing each other around. Even Nico had to

smile.

‘Anyway,’ Frank took over, ‘Reyna and I

agree this marks a new era of friendship

between the camps.’

Reyna clapped him on the back. ‘That’s

right. For hundreds of years, the gods tried

to separate us to keep us from fighting. But

there’s a better kind of peace – cooperation.’

Piper stood up from the audience. ‘Are you

sure your mom is a war goddess?’

898/982

‘Yes, McLean,’ Reyna said. ‘I still intend to

fight a lot of battles. But from now on we fight together!’

That got a big cheer.

Zhang raised his hand for quiet. ‘You’ll all

be welcome at Camp Jupiter. We’ve come to

an agreement with Chiron: a free exchange

between the camps – weekend visits, train-

ing programmes and, of course, emergency

aid in times of need –’

‘And parties?’ asked Dakota.

‘Hear, hear!’ said Conner Stoll.

Reyna spread her arms. ‘That goes without

saying. We Romans invented parties.’

Another big Oooohhhhhhhh!

‘So thank you,’ Reyna concluded. ‘All of

you. We could’ve chosen hatred and war. In-

stead we found acceptance and friendship.’

Then she did something so unexpected

Nico would later think he dreamed it. She

walked up to Nico, who was standing to one

899/982

side in the shadows, as usual. She grabbed

his hand and pulled him gently into the

firelight.

‘We had one home,’ she said. ‘Now we

have two.’

She gave Nico a big hug and the crowd

roared with approval. For once, Nico didn’t

feel like pulling away. He buried his face in

Reyna’s shoulder and blinked the tears out of

his eyes.

ll V

Nico

THAT NIGHT, NICO SLEPT IN THE HADES

CABIN.

He’d never had any desire to use the place

before, but now he shared it with Hazel,

which made all the difference.

It made him happy to live with a sister

again – even if it was only for a few days, and

even if Hazel insisted on partitioning her

side of the room with sheets for privacy so it

looked like a quarantine zone.

Just before curfew, Frank came to visit

and spent a few minutes talking with Hazel

in hushed tones.

902/982

Nico tried to ignore them. He stretched

out in his bunk, which resembled a coffin – a

polished mahogany frame, brass railings,

blood-red velvet pillows and blankets. Nico

hadn’t been present when they built this cab-

in. He definitely had not suggested these

bunks. Apparently somebody thought the

children of Hades were vampires, not

demigods.

Finally Frank knocked on the wall next to

Nico’s bed.

Nico looked over. Zhang stood so tall now.

He seemed so … Roman.

‘Hey,’ Frank said. ‘We’ll be leaving in the

morning. Just wanted to tell you thanks.’

Nico sat up in his bunk. ‘You did great,

Frank. It’s been an honour.’

Frank smiled. ‘Honestly, I’m kind of sur-

prised I lived through it. The whole magic

firewood thing …’

903/982

Nico nodded. Hazel had told him all about

the piece of firewood that controlled Frank’s

lifeline. Nico took it as a good sign that

Frank could talk about it openly now.

‘I can’t see the future,’ Nico told him, ‘but I

can often tell when people are close to death.

You’re not. I don’t know when that piece of

firewood will burn up. Eventually, we all run out of firewood. But it won’t be soon, Praetor

Zhang. You and Hazel … you’ve got a lot

more adventures ahead of you. You’re just

getting started. Be good to my sister, okay?’

Hazel walked up next to Frank and laced

her hand with his. ‘Nico, you’re not threaten-

ing my boyfriend, are you?’

The two of them looked so comfortable to-

gether it made Nico glad. But it also it caused

an ache in his heart – a ghostly pain, like an

old war wound throbbing in bad weather.

‘No need for threats,’ Nico said. ‘Frank’s a

good guy. Or bear. Or bulldog. Or –’

904/982

‘Oh, stop.’ Hazel laughed. Then she kissed

Frank. ‘See you in the morning.’

‘Yeah,’ Frank said. ‘Nico … you sure you

won’t come with us? You’ll always have a

place in New Rome.’

‘Thanks, Praetor. Reyna said the same

thing. But … no.’

‘I hope I’ll see you again?’

‘Oh, you will,’ Nico promised. ‘I’m going to

be the flower boy at your wedding, right?’

‘Um …’ Frank got flustered, cleared his

throat and shuffled off, running into the

doorjamb on the way out.

Hazel crossed her arms. ‘You just had to

tease him about that.’

She sat on Nico’s bunk. For a while they

just stayed there in comfortable silence …

siblings, children from the past, children of

the Underworld.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ Nico said.

905/982

Hazel leaned over and rested her head on

his shoulder. ‘You too, big brother. You will

visit.’

He tapped the new officer’s badge that

gleamed on her shirt. ‘Centurion of the Fifth

Cohort now. Congratulations. Are there rules

against centurions dating praetors?’

‘Shhh,’ Hazel said. ‘It’ll be a lot of work

getting the legion back in shape, repairing

the damage Octavian did. Dating regulations

will be the least of my worries.’

‘You’ve come so far. You’re not the same

girl I brought to Camp Jupiter. Your power

with the Mist, your confidence –’

‘It’s all thanks to you.’

‘No,’ Nico said. ‘Getting a second life is one

thing. Making it a better life, that’s the trick.’

As soon as he said it, Nico realized he

could’ve been talking about himself. He de-

cided not to bring that up.

Hazel sighed. ‘A second life. I just wish …’

906/982

She didn’t need to finish her thought. For

the past two days, Leo’s disappearance had

hovered like a cloud over the whole camp.

Hazel and Nico had been reluctant to join

the speculation about what had happened to

him.

‘You felt his death, didn’t you?’ Hazel’s

eyes were watery. Her voice was small.

‘Yeah,’ Nico admitted. ‘But I don’t know,

Hazel. Something about it was … different.’

‘He couldn’t have taken the physician’s

cure. Nothing could have survived that ex-

plosion. I thought … I thought I was helping

Leo. I messed up.’

‘No. It is not your fault.’ But Nico wasn’t quite so ready to forgive himself. He’d spent

the last forty-eight hours replaying the scene

with Octavian at the catapult, wondering if

he’d done wrong thing. Perhaps the explos-

ive power of that projectile had helped

907/982

destroy Gaia. Or perhaps it had unnecessar-

ily cost Leo Valdez his life.

‘I just wish he hadn’t died alone,’ Hazel

murmured. ‘There was no one with him, no

one to give him that cure. There’s not even a

body to bury …’

Her voice broke. Nico put his arm around

her.

He held her as she wept. Eventually she

fell asleep from exhaustion. Nico tucked her

into his own bed and kissed her forehead.

Then he went to the shrine of Hades in the

corner – a little table decorated with bones

and jewels.

‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘there’s a first time for

everything.’

He knelt and prayed silently for his fath-

er’s guidance.

ll V I

Nico

AT DAWN, HE WAS STILL AWAKE when

someone rapped at the door.

He turned, registering a face with blond

hair, and for a split second he thought it was

Will Solace. When Nico realized it was Jason,

he was disappointed. Then he felt angry with

himself for feeling that way.

He hadn’t talked to Will since the battle.

The Apollo kids had been too busy with the

injured. Besides, Will probably blamed Nico

for what happened to Octavian. Why

wouldn’t he? Nico had basically permitted …

whatever that was. Murder by consensus. A

910/982

gruesome suicide. By now, Will Solace real-

ized just how creepy and revolting Nico di

Angelo was. Of course, Nico didn’t care what

he thought. But still …

‘You okay?’ Jason asked. ‘You look –’

‘Fine,’ Nico snapped. Then he softened his

tone. ‘If you’re looking for Hazel, she’s still

asleep.’

Jason mouthed, Oh, and gestured for Nico

to come outside.

Nico stepped into the sunlight, blinking

and disoriented. Ugh … Perhaps the cabin’s designers had been right about the children

of Hades being like vampires. He was not a morning person.

Jason didn’t look as though he’d slept any

better. His hair had a cowlick on one side

and his new glasses sat crookedly on his

nose. Nico resisted the urge to reach out and

straighten them.

911/982

Jason pointed to the strawberry fields,

where the Romans were breaking camp. ‘It

was strange to see them here. Now it’ll be

strange not seeing them.’

‘Do you regret not going with them?’ Nico

asked.

Jason’s smile was lopsided. ‘A little. But

I’ll be going back and forth between the

camps a lot. I have some shrines to build.’

‘I heard. The Senate plans to elect you

Pontifex Maximus.’

Jason shrugged. ‘I don’t care about the

title so much. I do care about making sure the gods are remembered. I don’t want them

fighting out of jealousy any more, or taking

out their frustrations on demigods.’

‘They’re gods,’ Nico said. ‘That’s their

nature.’

‘Maybe, but I can try to make it better. I

guess Leo would say I’m acting like a mech-

anic, doing preventative maintenance.’

912/982

Nico sensed Jason’s sorrow like an oncom-

ing storm. ‘You know, you couldn’t have

stopped Leo. There’s nothing you could have

done differently. He knew what had to

happen.’

‘I – I guess. I don’t suppose you can tell if

he’s still –’

‘He’s gone,’ Nico said. ‘I’m sorry. I wish I

could tell you otherwise, but I sensed his death.’

Jason stared into the distance.

Nico felt guilty for squashing his hopes. He

was almost tempted to mention his own

doubts … what a different sensation Leo’s

death had given him, as if Leo’s soul had in-

vented its own way into the Underworld,

something that involved lots of gears, levers

and steam-powered pistons.

Nevertheless, Nico was sure Leo Valdez

had died. And death was death. It wouldn’t

be fair to give Jason false expectations.

913/982

In the distance, the Romans were picking

up their gear and toting it across the hill. On

the other side, so Nico had heard, a fleet of

black SUVs waited to transport the legion

cross-country back to California. Nico

guessed that would be an interesting road

trip. He imagined the entire Twelfth Legion

in the drive-through lane at Burger King. He

imagined some hapless monster terrorizing a

random demigod in Kansas, only to find it-

self surrounded by several dozen carloads of

heavily armoured Romans.

‘Ella the harpy is going with them, you

know,’ Jason said. ‘She and Tyson. Even

Rachel Elizabeth Dare. They’re going to work

together to try to reconstruct the Sibylline

Books.’

‘That should be interesting.’

‘Could take years,’ Jason said. ‘But with

the voice of Delphi extinguished …’

‘Rachel still can’t see the future?’

914/982

Jason shook his head. ‘I wish I knew what

happened to Apollo in Athens. Maybe

Artemis will get him out of trouble with Zeus

and the power of prophecy will work again.

But for now those Sibylline Books might be

our only way to get guidance for quests.’

‘Personally,’ Nico said, ‘I could do without

prophecies or quests for a while.’

‘You’ve got a point.’ He straightened his

glasses. ‘Look, Nico, the reason I wanted to

talk to you … I know what you said back at

Auster’s palace. I know you already turned

down a place at Camp Jupiter. I – I probably

can’t change your mind about leaving Camp

Half-Blood, but I have to –’

‘I’m staying.’

Jason blinked. ‘What?’

‘At Camp Half-Blood. The Hades cabin

needs a head counsellor. Have you seen the

decor? It’s disgusting. I’ll have to renovate.

And someone needs to do the burial rites

915/982

properly, since demigods insist on dying

heroically.’

‘That’s – that’s fantastic! Dude!’ Jason

opened his arms for a hug, then froze. ‘Right.

No touching. Sorry.’

Nico grunted. ‘I suppose we can make an

exception.’

Jason squeezed him so hard Nico thought

his ribs would crack.

‘Oh, man,’ Jason said. ‘Wait till I tell Piper.

Hey, since I’m all alone in my cabin too, you

and I can share a table in the dining hall. We

can team up for capture the flag and sing-

along contests and –’

‘Are you trying to scare me away?’

‘Sorry. Sorry. Whatever you say, Nico. I’m

just glad.’

The funny thing was Nico believed him.

Nico happened to glance towards the cab-

ins and saw someone waving at him. Will

Solace stood in the doorway of the Apollo

916/982

cabin, a stern look on his face. He pointed to

the ground at his feet, like You. Here. Now.

‘Jason,’ Nico said, ‘would you excuse me?’

‘So where were you?’ Will demanded. He was

wearing a green surgeon’s shirt with jeans

and flip-flops, which was probably not stand-

ard hospital protocol.

‘What do you mean?’ Nico asked.

‘I’ve been stuck in the infirmary for, like,

two days. You don’t come by. You don’t offer

to help.’

‘I … what? Why would you want a son of

Hades in the same room with people you’re

trying to heal? Why would anyone want

that?’

‘You can’t help out a friend? Maybe cut

bandages? Bring me a soda or a snack? Or

just a simple How’s it going, Will? You don’t think I could stand to see a friendly face?’

‘What … my face?’

917/982

The words simply didn’t make sense to-

gether: Friendly face. Nico di Angelo.

‘You’re so dense,’ Will noted. ‘I hope you

got over that nonsense about leaving Camp

Half-Blood.’

‘I – yeah. I did. I mean, I’m staying.’

‘Good. So you may be dense, but you’re not

an idiot.’

‘How can you even talk to me like that?

Don’t you know I can summon zombies and

skeletons and –’

‘Right now you couldn’t summon a wish-

bone without melting into a puddle of dark-

ness, di Angelo,’ Will said. ‘I told you, no

more Underworldy stuff, doctor’s orders.

You owe me at least three days of rest in the

infirmary. Starting now.’

Nico felt like a hundred skeletal butterflies

were resurrecting in his stomach. ‘Three

days? I – I suppose that would be okay.’

‘Good. Now –’

918/982

A loud whoop! cut through the air.

Over by the hearth in the centre of the

common, Percy was grinning at something

Annabeth had just told him. Annabeth

laughed and playfully slapped his arm.

‘I’ll be right back,’ Nico told Will. ‘Promise

on the Styx and everything.’

He walked over to Percy and Annabeth,

who were both still grinning like crazy.

‘Hey, man,’ Percy said. ‘Annabeth just told

me some good news. Sorry if I got a little

loud.’

‘We’re going to spend our senior year to-

gether,’ Annabeth explained, ‘here in New

York. And after graduation –’

‘College in New Rome!’ Percy pumped his

fist like he was blowing a truck horn. ‘Four

years with no monsters to fight, no battles,

no stupid prophecies. Just me and Anna-

beth, getting our degrees, hanging out at

cafés, enjoying California –’

919/982

‘And after that …’ Annabeth kissed Percy

on the cheek. ‘Well, Reyna and Frank said we

could live in New Rome as long as we like.’

‘That’s great,’ Nico said. He was a little

surprised to find that he meant it. ‘I’m stay-

ing too, here at Camp Half-Blood.’

‘Awesome!’ Percy said.

Nico studied his face – his sea-green eyes,

his grin, his ruffled black hair. Somehow

Percy Jackson seemed like a regular guy

now, not a mythical figure. Not someone to

idolize or crush on.

‘So,’ Nico said, ‘since we’re going to be

spending at least a year seeing each other at

camp, I think I should clear the air.’

Percy’s smile wavered. ‘What do you

mean?’

‘For a long time,’ Nico said, ‘I had a crush

on you. I just wanted you to know.’

920/982

Percy looked at Nico. Then at Annabeth, as

if to check that he’d heard correctly. Then

back at Nico. ‘You –’

‘Yeah,’ Nico said. ‘You’re a great person.

But I’m over that. I’m happy for you guys.’

‘You … so you mean –’

‘Right.’

Annabeth’s grey eyes started to sparkle.

She gave Nico a sideways smile.

‘Wait,’ Percy said. ‘So you mean –’

‘Right,’ Nico said again. ‘But it’s cool.

We’re cool. I mean, I see now … you’re cute,

but you’re not my type.’

‘I’m not your type … Wait. So –’

‘See you around, Percy,’ Nico said.

‘Annabeth.’

She raised her hand for a high five.

Nico obliged. Then he walked back across

the green, to where Will Solace was waiting.

ll V I I

Piper

PIPER WISHED SHE COULD CHARM HERSELF

TO SLEEP.

It may have worked on Gaia, but for the

last two nights she’d hardly slept a wink.

The days were fine. She loved being back

with her friends Lacy and Mitchell and all

the other Aphrodite kids. Even her bratty

second-in-command, Drew Tanaka, seemed

relieved, probably because Piper could run

things and give Drew more time for gossip

and in-cabin beauty treatments.

Piper kept busy helping Reyna and Anna-

beth coordinate between the Greeks and

923/982

Romans. To Piper’s surprise, the other two

girls valued her skills as a go-between to

smooth over any conflicts. There weren’t

many, but Piper did manage to return some

Roman helmets that mysteriously made their

way into the camp store. She also kept a fight

from breaking out between the children of

Mars and the children of Ares over the best

way to kill a hydra.

On the morning the Romans were sched-

uled to leave, Piper was sitting on the pier at

the canoe lake, trying to placate the naiads.

Some of the lake spirits thought the Roman

guys were so hot that they, too, wanted to

leave for Camp Jupiter. They were demand-

ing a giant portable fish tank for the journey

west. Piper had just concluded negotiations

when Reyna found her.

The praetor sat next to her on the dock.

‘Hard work?’

924/982

Piper blew a strand of hair out of her eyes.

‘Naiads can be challenging. I think we have a

deal. If they still want to go at the end of the

summer, we’ll work out the details then. But

naiads, uh, tend to forget things in about five

seconds.’

Reyna traced her fingertips across the wa-

ter. ‘Sometimes I wish I could forget things

that quickly.’

Piper studied the praetor’s face. Reyna was

one demigod who hadn’t seemed to change

during the war with the giants … at least not

on the outside. She still had the same strong,

unstoppable gaze, the same regal, beautiful

face. She wore her armour and purple cloak

as easily as most people would wear shorts

and a T-shirt.

Piper couldn’t understand how anyone

could take so much pain, shoulder so much

responsibility, without breaking. She

925/982

wondered if Reyna ever had anyone to con-

fide in.

‘You did so much,’ Piper said. ‘For both

camps. Without you, none of it would’ve

been possible.’

‘All of us played a part.’

‘Sure. But you … I just wish you got more

credit.’

Reyna laughed gently. ‘Thank you, Piper.

But I don’t want attention. You understand

what that’s like, don’t you?’

Piper did. They were so different, but she

understood not wanting to attract attention.

Piper had wished for that her whole life, with

her dad’s fame, the paparazzi, the photos and

scandal stories in the press. She met so many

people who said, Oh, I want to be famous!

That would be so great! But they had no idea what it was really like. She’d seen the toll it

took on her father. Piper wanted nothing to

do with it.

926/982

She could understand the appeal of the

Roman way, too – to blend in, be one of the

team, work as a part of a well-oiled machine.

Even so, Reyna had risen to the top. She

couldn’t stay hidden.

‘Your power from your mom …’ Piper said.

‘You can lend strength to others?’

Reyna pursed her lips. ‘Nico told you?’

‘No. I just sensed it, watching you lead the

legion. That must drain you. How do you …

you know, get that strength back?’

‘When I get the strength back, I’ll let you

know.’

She said it like a joke, but Piper sensed the

sadness behind her words.

‘You’re always welcome here,’ Piper said.

‘If you need to take a break, get away …

you’ve got Frank now – he could assume

more responsibility for a while. It might do

you good to make some time for yourself,

927/982

when nobody is going to be looking at you as

praetor.’

Reyna met her eyes, as if trying to gauge

how serious the offer was. ‘Would I be expec-

ted to sing that odd song about how

Grandma puts on her armour?’

‘Not unless you really want to. But we

might have to ban you from capture the flag.

I have a feeling you could go against the en-

tire camp solo and still beat us.’

Reyna smirked. ‘I’ll consider the offer.

Thank you.’ She adjusted her dagger, and for

a moment Piper thought about her own

blade, Katoptris, which was now locked in

her hope chest in her cabin. Ever since

Athens, when she’d used the blade to stab

the giant Enceladus, its visions had stopped

completely.

‘I wonder …’ Reyna said. ‘You’re a child of

Venus. I mean Aphrodite. Perhaps – perhaps

928/982

you could explain something your mother

said.’

‘I’m honoured. I’ll try, but I have to warn

you: my mom doesn’t make sense to me a lot of the time.’

‘Once in Charleston, Venus told me

something. She said: You will not find love

where you wish or where you hope. No

demigod shall heal your heart. I – I have

struggled with that for …’ Her words broke.

Piper had a strong urge to find her mother

and punch her. She hated how Aphrodite

could mess up someone’s life with just a

short conversation.

‘Reyna,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what she

meant, but I do know this: you are an incred-

ible person. There is someone out there for

you. Maybe it’s not a demigod. Maybe it’s a

mortal or … or I don’t know. But, when it’s

meant to happen, it will. And until it does,

hey, you have friends. Lots of friends, both

929/982

Greek and Roman. The thing about you be-

ing everyone’s source of strength: sometimes

you might forget that you need to draw

strength from others. I’m here for you.’

Reyna stared across the lake. ‘Piper

McLean, you have a way with words.’

‘I’m not charmspeaking, I promise.’

‘No charmspeak required.’ Reyna offered

her hand. ‘I have a feeling we’ll see each oth-

er again.’

They shook and, after Reyna left, Piper

knew that Reyna was right. They would meet

again, because Reyna was no longer a rival,

no longer a stranger or a potential enemy.

She was a friend. She was family.

That night the camp felt empty without the

Romans. Piper already missed Hazel. She

missed the creaking timbers of the Argo II

and the constellations her lamp used to

930/982

make against the ceiling of her cabin aboard

the ship.

Lying in her bunk in Cabin Ten, she felt so

restless she knew she wouldn’t be able to

doze off. She kept thinking about Leo. Again

and again she replayed what had happened

in the fight against Gaia, trying to figure out

how she could have failed Leo so badly.

Around two in the morning, she gave up

trying to sleep. She sat up in bed and gazed

out of the window. Moonlight turned the

woods silver. The smells of the sea and the

strawberry fields wafted on the breeze. She

couldn’t believe that just a few days ago the

Earth Mother had awoken and almost des-

troyed everything Piper held dear. Tonight

seemed so peaceful … so normal.

Tap, tap, tap.

Piper nearly hit the top of her bunk. Jason

was standing outside the window, rapping on

the frame. He grinned. ‘Come on.’

931/982

‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered.

‘It’s after curfew. The patrol harpies will

shred you!’

‘Just come on.’

Her heart racing, she took his hand and

climbed out of the window. He led her to

Cabin One and took her inside, where the

huge statue of Hippie Zeus glowered in the

dim light.

‘Um, Jason … what exactly … ?’

‘Check it out.’ He showed her one of the

marble columns that ringed the circular

chamber. On the back, almost hidden against

the wall, iron rungs led upward – a ladder.

‘Can’t believe I didn’t notice this sooner.

Wait till you see!’

He began to climb. Piper wasn’t sure why

she felt so nervous, but her hands were shak-

ing. She followed him up. At the top, Jason

pushed open a small trapdoor.

932/982

They emerged on the side of the domed

roof, on a flat ledge, facing north. The whole

of Long Island Sound spread out to the hori-

zon. They were so far up, and at such an

angle, that nobody below could possibly see

them. The patrol harpies never flew this

high.

‘Look.’ Jason pointed at the stars, which

made a splash of diamonds across the sky –

better jewels than even Hazel Levesque could

have summoned.

‘Beautiful.’ Piper snuggled up against

Jason and he put his arm around her. ‘But

aren’t you going to get in trouble?’

‘Who cares?’ Jason asked.

Piper laughed quietly. ‘Who are you?’

He turned, his glasses pale bronze in star-

light. ‘Jason Grace. Pleased to meet you.’

He kissed her, and … okay, they had kissed

before. But this was different. Piper felt like a

toaster. All her coils heated to red-hot. Any

933/982

more warmth and she’d start smelling like

burnt toast.

Jason pulled away enough to look in her

eyes. ‘That night at the Wilderness School,

our first kiss under the stars …’

‘The memory,’ Piper said. ‘The one that

never happened.’

‘Well … now it’s real.’ He made the ward-

against-evil symbol, the same one he’d used

to dispel his mother’s ghost, and pushed at

the sky. ‘From this point on, we’re writing

our own story, with a fresh start. And we just

had our first kiss.’

‘I’m afraid to tell you this after just one

kiss,’ Piper said. ‘But gods of Olympus, I love

you.’

‘Love you too, Pipes.’

She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but

she couldn’t stop thinking of Leo and how he

would never have a fresh start.

Jason must have sensed her feelings.

934/982

‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Leo is okay.’

‘How can you believe that? He didn’t get

the cure. Nico said he died.’

‘You once woke up a dragon with just your

voice,’ Jason reminded her. ‘You believed the dragon should be alive, right?’

‘Yes, but –’

‘We have to believe in Leo. There is no way

he would die so easily. He’s a tough guy.’

‘Right.’ Piper tried to steady her heart. ‘So

we believe. Leo has to be alive.’

‘You remember the time in Detroit, when

he flattened Ma Gasket with a car engine?’

‘Or those dwarfs in Bologna. Leo took

them down with a homemade smoke gren-

ade made from toothpaste.’

‘Commander Tool Belt,’ Jason said.

‘Bad Boy Supreme,’ Piper said.

‘Chef Leo the Tofu Taco Expert.’

They laughed and told stories about Leo

Valdez, their best friend. They stayed on the

935/982

roof until dawn broke, and Piper started to

believe they could have a fresh start. It might even be possible to tell a new story in which

Leo was still out there. Somewhere …

ll V I I I

Leo

LEO WAS DEAD.

He knew that with absolute certainty. He

just didn’t understand why it hurt so much.

He felt like every cell in his body had ex-

ploded. Now his consciousness was trapped

inside a charred crispy husk of demigod

roadkill. The nausea was worse than any

carsickness he’d ever had. He couldn’t move.

He couldn’t see or hear. He could only feel

pain.

He started to panic, thinking maybe this

was his eternal punishment.

938/982

Then somebody put jumper cables on his

brain and restarted his life.

He gasped and sat up.

The first thing he felt was the wind in his

face, then the searing pain in his right arm.

He was still on Festus’s back, still in the air.

His eyes started to work again, and he no-

ticed the large hypodermic needle retracting

from his forearm. The empty injector buzzed,

whirred and retreated into a panel on Fes-

tus’s neck.

‘Thanks, buddy.’ Leo groaned. ‘Man, being

dead sucked. But that physician’s cure? That

stuff is worse.’

Festus clicked and clattered in Morse code.

‘No, man, I’m not serious,’ Leo said. ‘I’m

glad to be alive. And, yeah, I love you too.

You did awesome.’

A metallic purr ran the length of the

dragon’s body.

939/982

First things first: Leo scanned the dragon

for signs of damage. Festus’s wings were

working properly, though his left medius

membrane was shot full of holes. His neck

plating was partially fused, melted from the

explosion, but the dragon didn’t seem to be

in danger of crashing immediately.

Leo tried to remember what had

happened. He was pretty sure he had de-

feated Gaia, but he had no idea how his

friends were doing back at Camp Half-Blood.

Hopefully Jason and Piper had got clear of

the blast. Leo had a weird memory of a mis-

sile hurtling towards him and screaming like

a little girl … what the heck had that been

about?

Once he landed, he’d have to check Fes-

tus’s underbelly. The most serious damage

would probably be in that area, where the

dragon had courageously grappled with Gaia

while they blowtorched the sludge out of her.

940/982

There was no telling how long Festus had

been aloft. He’d need to set down soon.

Which raised the question: where were

they?

Below was a solid white blanket of clouds.

The sun shone directly overhead in a bril-

liant blue sky. So it was about noon … but of

which day? How long had Leo been dead?

He opened the access panel in Festus’s

neck. The astrolabe was humming away, the

crystal pulsing like a neon heart. Leo

checked his compass and GPS, and a grin

spread across his face.

‘Festus, good news!’ he shouted. ‘Our nav-

igation readings are completely messed up!’

Festus said, Creak?

‘Yeah! Descend! Get us below these clouds

and maybe –’

The dragon plummeted so fast that the

breath was sucked out of Leo’s lungs.

941/982

They broke through the blanket of white

and there, below them, was a single green is-

land in a vast blue sea.

Leo whooped so loudly they probably

heard him in China. ‘YEAH! WHO DIED?

WHO CAME BACK? WHO’S YOUR

FREAKIN’ SUPERSIZED McSHIZZLE

NOW, BABY? WOOOOOOOO! ’

They spiralled towards Ogygia, the warm

wind in Leo’s hair. He realized his clothes

were in tatters, despite the magic they’d been

woven with. His arms were covered in a fine

layer of soot, like he’d just died in a massive

fire … which, of course, he had.

But he couldn’t worry about any of that.

She was standing on the beach, wearing

jeans and a white blouse, her amber hair

pulled back.

Festus spread his wings and landed with a

stumble. Apparently one of his legs was

942/982

broken. The dragon pitched sideways and

catapulted Leo face-first into the sand.

So much for a heroic entrance.

Leo spat a piece of seaweed out of his

mouth. Festus dragged himself down the

beach, made clacking noises that meant Ow,

ow, ow.

Leo looked up. Calypso stood over him,

her arms crossed, her eyebrows arched.

‘You’re late,’ she announced. Her eyes

gleamed.

‘Sorry, Sunshine,’ Leo said. ‘Traffic was

murder.’

‘You are covered with soot,’ she noted.

‘And you managed to ruin the clothes I made

for you, which were impossible to ruin.’

‘Well, you know.’ Leo shrugged. Somebody

had released a hundred pachinko balls in his

chest. ‘I’m all about doing the impossible.’

She offered her hand and helped him up.

They stood nose to nose as she studied his

943/982

condition. She smelled like cinnamon. Had

she always had that tiny freckle next to her

left eye? Leo really wanted to touch it.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘You smell –’

‘I know. Like I’ve been dead. Probably be-

cause I have been. Oath to keep with a final

breath and all, but I’m better now –’

She stopped him with a kiss.

The pachinko balls slammed around inside

him. He felt so happy he had to make a con-

scious effort not to burst into flames.

When she finally let him go, her face was

covered in soot smudges. She didn’t seem to

care. She traced her thumb across his

cheekbone.

‘Leo Valdez,’ she said.

Nothing else – just his name, as if it were

something magical.

‘That’s me,’ he said, his voice ragged. ‘So,

um … you want to get off this island?’

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Calypso stepped back. She raised one hand

and the winds swirled. Her invisible servants

brought two suitcases and set them at her

feet. ‘What gave you that idea?’

Leo grinned. ‘Packed for a long trip, huh?’

‘I don’t plan on coming back.’ Calypso

glanced over her shoulder, at the path that

led to her garden and her cavern home.

‘Where will you take me, Leo?’

‘Somewhere to fix my dragon, first,’ he de-

cided. ‘And then … wherever you want. How

long was I gone, seriously?’

‘Time is difficult on Ogygia,’ Calypso said.

‘It felt like forever.’

Leo had a stab of doubt. He hoped his

friends were okay. He hoped a hundred years

hadn’t passed while he was flying around

dead and Festus searched for Ogygia.

He would have to find out. He needed to

let Jason and Piper and the others know he

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was okay. But right now … priorities. Calypso

was a priority.

‘So once you leave Ogygia,’ he said, ‘do you

stay immortal or what?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘And you’re okay with that?’

‘More than okay.’

‘Well, then!’ He turned towards his

dragon. ‘Buddy, you up for another flight to

nowhere in particular?’

Festus blew fire and limped around.

‘So we take off with no plan,’ Calypso said.

‘No idea where we’ll go or what problems

await beyond this island. Many questions

and no tidy answers?’

Leo turned up his palms. ‘That’s how I fly,

Sunshine. Can I get your bags?’

‘Absolutely.’

Five minutes later, with Calypso’s arms

around his waist, Leo spurred Festus into

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flight. The bronze dragon spread his wings,

and they soared into the unknown.

Glossary

Acropolis the ancient citadel of Athens, Greece, containing the oldest temples to the gods

Actaeon a hunter who spied Artemis while she was bathing. She was so angered by the idea of a mortal seeing her naked that she turned him into a stag.

Ad aciem Latin for Assume battle stance

Aeolus lord of all winds Alcyoneus the eldest of the giants born to Gaia, destined to fight Pluto

amphora a tall ceramic wine jar

Antinous the leader of the suitors for Odysseusâ€™s wife, Queen Penelope. Odysseus killed him by

shooting him through the neck with an arrow.

Aphrodite the Greek goddess of love and beauty.

She was married to Hephaestus, but she loved Ares,

the god of war. Roman form: Venus

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Aphros the music and poetry teacher at an underwater camp for mer-heroes. He is one of the half

brothers of Chiron.

Apollo the Greek god of the sun, prophecy, music and healing; the son of Zeus, and the twin of

Artemis. Roman form: Apollo

Aquilo Roman god of the north wind. Greek form: Boreas

ara ( arai, pl.) female spirits of curses; wrinkled hags with bat-like wings, brass talons and glowing red

eyes; daughters of Nyx (night)

Ares the Greek god of war; the son of Zeus and Hera, and half brother to Athena. Roman form: Mars

Artemis the Greek goddess of nature and hunting; the daughter of Zeus and Hera, and twin to Apollo.

Roman form: Diana

Asclepeion a hospital and medical school in Ancient Greece

Asclepius the healing god; son of Apollo; his temple was the healing centre of Ancient Greece

Athena the Greek goddess of wisdom. Roman form: Minerva

Augustus the founder of the Roman Empire and its first emperor, ruling from 27 B.C.E. until his death in 14 C.E.

949/982

auxilia Latin for helps; the standing non-citizen corps of the Imperial Roman army

Ave Romae Latin for Hail, Romans

Bacchus the Roman god of wine and revelry. Greek form: Dionysus

Banastre Tarleton a British commander in the American Revolution who gained infamy for his

part in the slaughter of surrendering Continental

Army troops during the Battle of Waxhaws

Barrachina a restaurant in San Juan, Puerto Rico; birthplace of the piÃ±a colada

Bellona a Roman goddess of war

bifurcum Latin for private parts

Boreas god of the north wind. Roman form: Aquilo

Briares older brother of the Titans and Cyclopes; son of Gaia and Ouranos. The last of the Hundred-Handed Ones still alive.

Bythos combat trainer at an underwater camp for mer-heroes; half brother of Chiron

Calypso the goddess nymph of the mythical island of Ogygia; a daughter of the Titan Atlas. She detained the hero Odysseus for many years.

Ceres the Roman goddess of agriculture. Greek form: Demeter

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chlamys a Greek garment; a white wool cloak loosely wrapped and pinned at the shoulder

Circe a Greek sorceress who once turned Odysseusâ€™s men into pigs

Clytius a giant created by Gaia to absorb and defeat all of Hecateâ€™s magic

coquÃ the common name for several species of small frogs indigenous to Puerto Rico

cuneum formate a Roman military manoeuvre in which infantry formed a wedge to charge and break

enemy lines

Cupid Roman god of love. Greek form: Eros

Cyclops (Cyclopes, pl.) a member of a primordial race of giants, each with a single eye in the middle of his or her forehead

cynocephali ( cynocephalus, sing.) dog-headed monsters

Damasen giant son of Tartarus and Gaia; created to oppose Ares; condemed to Tartarus for slaying a

drakon that was ravaging the land

Deimos fear, the twin of Phobos (panic), son of Ares and Aphrodite

Delos the island birthplace of Apollo and Artemis in Greece

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Demeter the Greek goddess of agriculture, a daughter of the Titans Rhea and Kronos. Roman form:

Ceres

Diana the Roman goddess of nature and hunting.

Greek form: Artemis

Dies Roman goddess of the day. Greek form: Hemera

Diocletian the last great pagan emperor, and the first to retire peacefully; a demigod (son of Jupiter).

According to legend, his sceptre could raise a ghost army.

Dionysus the Greek god of wine and revelry, a son of Zeus. Roman form: Bacchus

dracaena ( dracanae, pl.) female reptilian humanoids with snake trunks instead of legs

drakon gigantic yellow and green serpent-like monster, with frills around its neck, reptilian eyes and huge talons; it spits poison

Earthborn Gegenees in Greek; monsters with six arms that wear only a loincloth

Eiaculare flammas Latin for Launch flaming arrows

Enceladus a giant created by Gaia specifically to destroy the goddess Athena

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Ephialtes a giant created by Gaia specifically to destroy the god Dionysus/Bacchus; twin brother of

Otis

Epidaurus a Greek coastal town where the sanctuary of the physician god Asclepius was located

Epirus a region presently in northwestern Greece, site of the House of Hades

Erechtheion the temple to both Athena and Poseidon in Athens

Eros Greek god of love. Roman form: Cupid

espresso strong coffee made by forcing steam through finely ground dark-roast coffee beans

Eurymachus one of the suitors of Odysseusâ€™s wife, Queen Penelope

Ã‰vora a Portuguese city still partially enclosed by mediaeval walls, with a large number of historic

monuments, including a Roman temple

fartura a Portuguese pastry

Field of Mars a publicly owned area of Ancient Rome; also the practice field at Camp Jupiter

filia Romana girl of Rome

frigidarium a room in a Roman bath with cold water

Furies Roman goddesses of vengeance; usually char-acterized as three sisters â€“ Alecto, Tisiphone and 953/982

Magaera; the children of Gaia and Ouranus. They

reside in the Underworld, tormenting evil-doers

and sinners. Greek form: the Erinyes

Gaia the Greek earth goddess; mother of Titans, giants, Cyclopes and other monsters. Roman form:

Terra

Gaius Vitellius Reticulus a member of the Roman legion when it was first created; a medic during the time of Julius Caesar; now a Lar (ghost) at Camp

Jupiter

geminus ( gemini, pl.) half human, half snake; the original Athenians

Hades the Greek god of death and riches. Roman form: Pluto

Hasdrubal of Carthage king of Ancient Carthage, in present day Tunisia, from 530 to 510 B.C.E.; he

was elected as â€˜kingâ€™ eleven times and was

granted a triumph four times, the only Carthaginian ever to receive this honour

Hebe the Greek goddess of youth; daughter of Zeus and Hera. Roman form: Juventas

Hecate goddess of magic and crossroads; controls the Mist; daughter of Titans Perses and Asteria

Hemera Greek goddess of day; daughter of Erebos (darkness) and Nyx (night). Roman form: Dies

954/982

Hephaestus the Greek god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Zeus and Hera, and married

to Aphrodite. Roman form: Vulcan

Hera the Greek goddess of marriage; Zeusâ€™s wife and sister. Roman form: Juno

Hermes Greek god of travellers; guide to spirits of the dead; god of communication. Roman form:

Mercury

Hippias a tyrant of Athens who, after he was de-posed, sided with the Persians against his own

people

hippodrome an oval stadium for horse and chariot races in Ancient Greece

Hippolytus a giant created to be the bane of Hermes

House of Hades a place in the Underworld where Hades, the Greek god of death, and his wife,

Persephone, rule over the souls of the departed;

also the name of an old temple in Epirus in Greece

Hundred-Handed Ones children of Gaia and Ouranos with one hundred hands and fifty faces; elder

brothers of the Cyclopes; primeval gods of violent

storms

Hygeia goddess of health, cleanliness and sanitation; daughter of the god of medicine, Asclepius

Hypnos Greek god of sleep. Roman form: Somnus 955/982

Invidia the Roman goddess of revenge. Greek form: Nemesis

Iris goddess of the rainbow and a messenger of the gods

Iros an old man who ran errands for the suitors for Odysseusâ€™s wife, Queen Penelope, in exchange

for scraps of food

Ithaca a Greek island and home to Odysseusâ€™s palace, which the Greek hero had to rid of suitors

for his queen after the Trojan War

Janus Roman god of doorways, beginnings and transitions; depicted as having two faces, because

he looks to the future and to the past

Juno the Roman goddess of women, marriage and fertility; sister and wife of Jupiter; mother of Mars.

Greek form: Hera

Jupiter the Roman king of the gods; also called Jupiter Optimus Maximus (the best and the

greatest). Greek form: Zeus

Juventas the Roman goddess of youth; daughter of Zeus and Hera. Greek form: Hebe

Kekrops leader of the gemini â€“ half human, half snake. He was the founder of Athens and judged the

dispute between Athena and Poseidon. He chose

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Athena as the cityâ€™s patron and was the first to

build a shrine to her.

Kerkopes a pair of chimpanzee-like dwarfs who steal shiny things and create chaos

Keto an ancient marine goddess and the mother of most sea monsters; daughter of Pontus and Gaia;

sister of Phorcys

Khione the Greek goddess of snow; daughter of Boreas

Khios the fifth largest of the Greek islands, in the Aegean Sea, off the west coast of Turkey

Kronos the youngest of the twelve Titans; the son of Ouranos and Gaia; the father of Zeus. He killed his father at his motherâ€™s bidding. Titan lord of

fate, harvest, justice and time. Roman form: Saturn

Kymopoleia minor Greek goddess of violent sea storms; nymph daughter of Poseidon and wife of

Briares, a Hundred-Handed One

Laistrygonian ogre a monster giant cannibal from the far north

Little Tiber a river that flows in Camp Jupiter.

Though not as large as the original Tiber River in

Rome, it flows with as much power and is able to

wash away Greek blessings.

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Lupa the sacred Roman she-wolf that nursed the foundling twins Romulus and Remus

Lycaon a king of Arcadia who tested Zeusâ€™s om-niscience by serving him the roasted flesh of a

guest. Zeus punished him by transforming him into

a wolf.

makhai the spirits of battle and combat

mania a Greek spirit of insanity

manticore a creature with a human head, a li-onâ€™s body and a scorpionâ€™s tail

Mars the Roman god of war; also called Mars Ultor.

Patron of the empire; divine father of Romulus and

Remus. Greek form: Ares

medius Latin for middle

Medusa a priestess whom Athena turned into a gorgon when she caught Medusa with Poseidon in

Athenaâ€™s temple. Medusa has snakes for hair

and can turn people to stone if they look directly in-to her eyes.

Mercury Roman messenger of the gods; god of trade, profit and commerce. Greek form: Hermes

Merope one of the seven Pleiades, star-nymph daughters of the Titan Atlas

Mimas a giant created to be the bane of Ares 958/982

Minerva the Roman goddess of wisdom. Greek form: Athena

mofongo a fried plantain-based dish from Puerto Rico

Mykonos a Greek island, part of the Cyclades, lying between Tinos, Syros, Paros and Naxos

Nemesis the Greek goddess of revenge. Roman form: Invidia

Neptune the Roman god of the sea. Greek form: Poseidon

Nereids fifty female sea spirits; patrons of sailors and fishermen and caretakers of the seaâ€™s

bounty

Nestorâ€™s Cave the spot where Hermes hid the cattle he stole from Apollo

Nike the Greek goddess of strength, speed and victory. Roman form: Victoria

numina montanum Roman mountain god. Greek form: ourae

Nyx goddess of night, one of the ancient, firstborn elemental gods

Odysseus legendary Greek king of Ithaca and the hero of Homerâ€™s epic poem The Odyssey. Roman form: Ulysses

959/982

Olympia the most ancient and probably most famous sanctuary in Greece, and home of the Olympic

Games. Located in the western region of the

Peloponnese.

onager a giant siege weapon

Oracle of Delphi a speaker of the prophecies of Apollo. The current Oracle is Rachel Elizabeth

Dare.

Orbem formate! At this command, Roman legionnaires assumed a circle-like formation with archers placed among and behind them to provide missile

fire support.

Orcus the Underworld god of eternal punishment and broken vows

Orion a giant huntsman who became the most loyal and valued of Artemisâ€™s attendants. In a jealous

rage, Apollo drove Orion mad with bloodlust until

the giant was slain by a scorpion. Heartbroken,

Artemis transformed her beloved hunting compan-

ion into a constellation to honour his memory.

Otis a giant created by Gaia specifically to destroy the god Dionysus/Bacchus; twin brother of Ephialtes

ourae Greek for mountain gods. Roman form: numina montanum

960/982

Ouranos father of the Titans; the sky god. The Titans defeated him by calling him down to the earth. They got him away from his home territory, ambushed

him, held him down and cut him up.

panaderÃa Spanish for bakery

Parthenon a temple on the Athenian Acropolis, Greece, dedicated to the goddess Athena. Its construction began in 447 B.C.E., when the Athenian

Empire was at the height of its power.

Pegasus a winged divine horse; sired by Poseidon in his role as horse god, and foaled by the Gorgon Medusa; the brother of Chrysaor

Pelopion a funerary monument to Pelops located in Olympia, Greece

Peloponnese a large peninsula and geographic region in southern Greece, separated from the north-

ern part of the country by the Gulf of Corinth

Pelops According to Greek myth, the son of Tantalus and the grandson of Zeus. When he was a boy, his

father cut him into pieces, cooked him and served

him as a feast for the gods. The gods detected the

trick and restored him to life.

Penelope Queen of Ithaca and Odysseusâ€™s wife.

During her husbandâ€™s twenty-year absence, she

961/982

remained faithful to him, fending off a hundred ar-

rogant suitors.

Periboia a giantess; the youngest daughter of Porphyrion, the king of the giants

Phobos panic, the twin of Deimos (fear), son of Ares and Aphrodite

Philip of Macedonia a king of the Ancient Greek kingdom of Macedon from 359 B.C.E. until his assassination in 336 B.C.E. He was the father of Alex-ander the Great and Philip III.

Phlegethon the River of Fire that flows from Hadesâ€™s realm down into Tartarus; it keeps the

wicked alive so they can endure the torments of the Field of Punishment

Phorcys a primordial god of the dangers of the sea; son of Gaia; brother-husband of Keto

piragua a frozen treat made of shaved ice and covered with fruit-flavoured syrup, from Puerto

Rico

Pluto the Roman god of death and riches. Greek form: Hades

Polybotes the giant son of Gaia, the Earth Mother; born to kill Poseidon

Pompeii In 79 C.E., this Roman town near modern Naples was destroyed when the volcano Mount

962/982

Vesuvius erupted and covered it in ash, killing

thousands of people.

Pontifex Maximus Roman high priest to the gods

Porphyrion the king of the Giants in Greek and Roman mythology

Poseidon the Greek god of the sea; son of the Titans Kronos and Rhea, and brother of Zeus and Hades.

Roman form: Neptune

praetor elected Roman magistrate and commander of the army

propylon an outer monumental gateway standing before a main gateway (as of a temple)

Pylos a town in Messenia, Peloponnese, Greece

Python a monstrous serpent that Gaia appointed to guard the oracle at Delphi

Repellere equites Latin for Repel horsemen; a square formation used by Roman infantry to resist

cavalry

retiarius a gladiator who uses a trident and a weighted net

Romulus and Remus the twin sons of Mars and the priestess Rhea Silvia. They were thrown into the River Tiber by their human father, Amulius, and

rescued and raised by a she-wolf. Upon reaching

adulthood, they founded Rome.

963/982

Senatus Populusque Romanus (SPQR) meaning â€˜The Senate and People of Romeâ€™, refers to

the government of the Roman Republic and is used

as an official emblem of Rome

shadow-travel a form of transportation that allows creatures of the Underworld and children of Hades

to travel to any desired place on earth or in the

Underworld, although it makes the user extremely

fatigued

Sibylline Books a collection of prophecies in rhyme written in Greek. Tarquinius Superbus, a king of

Rome, bought them from a prophetess named Sibyl

and consulted them in times of great danger.

Somnus Roman god of sleep. Greek form: Hypnos

Spartans citizens of the Greek city Sparta; soldiers of Ancient Sparta, especially its renowned infantry

Spes goddess of hope; the Feast of Spes, the Day of Hope, falls on 1 August

Straits of Corinth a shipping canal that connects the Gulf of Corinth with the Saronic Gulf in the Aegean Sea

Tartarus husband of Gaia; spirit of the abyss; father of the giants; also the lowest part of the Underworld

Terminus the Roman god of boundaries and landmarks

964/982

Terra the Roman goddess of the earth. Greek form: Gaia

Thoon a giant born to kill the Three Fates

Three Fates Even before there were gods there were the Fates: Clotho, who spins the thread of life;

Lachesis, the measurer, who determines how long a

life will be; and Atropos, who cuts the thread of life with her shears.

Titans a race of powerful Greek deities, descendants of Ouranos and Gaia, who ruled during the Golden

Age and were overthrown by a race of younger gods,

the Olympians

Ulysses Roman form of Odysseus

Venus the Roman goddess of love and beauty. She was married to Vulcan, but she loved Mars, the god

of war. Greek form: Aphrodite

Victoria the Roman goddess of strength, speed and victory. Greek form: Nike

Vulcan the Roman god of fire and crafts and of blacksmiths; the son of Jupiter and Juno, and married to Venus. Greek form: Hephaestus

Zeus Greek god of the sky and king of the gods. Roman form: Jupiter

965/982

ZoÃ« Nightshade a daughter of Atlas who was exiled and later joined the Hunters of Artemis, be-

coming the loyal lieutenant of Artemis

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First published in the USA by Disney • Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group, 2014

Published simultaneously in Great Britain by Puffin Books 2014

Text copyright © Rick Riordan, 2014

Cover Illustration by Steve Stone

All rights reserved

The moral right of the author has been asserted

ISBN: 978-0-141-33923-8

@Created by PDF to ePub

Document Outline

- Contents

- Books by Rick Riordan

- I

- Jason

- II

- Jason

- III

- Jason

- IV

- Jason

- V

- Reyna

- VI

- Reyna

- VII

- Reyna

- VIII

- Reyna

- IX

- Leo

- X

- Leo

- XI

- Leo

- XII

- Leo

- XIII

- Nico

- XIV

- Nico

- XV

- Nico

- XVI

- Nico

- XVII

- Piper

- XVIII

- Piper

- XIX

- Piper

- XX

- Piper

- XXI

- Reyna

- XXII

- Reyna

- XXIII

- Reyna

- XXIV

- Reyna

- XXV

- Jason

- XXVI

- Jason

- XXVII

- Jason

- XXVIII

- Jason

- XXIX

- Nico

- XXX

- Nico

- XXXI

- Nico

- XXXII

- Nico

- XXXIII

- Leo

- XXXIV

- Leo

- XXXV

- Leo

- XXXVI

- Leo

- XXXVII

- Reyna

- XXXVIII

- Reyna

- XXXIX

- Reyna

- XL

- Reyna

- XLI

- Piper

- XLII

- Piper

- XLIII

- Piper

- XLIV

- Piper

- XLV

- Nico

- XLVI

- Nico

- XLVII

- Nico

- XLVIII

- Nico

- XLIX

- Jason

- ll

- Jason

- LI

- Jason

- LII

- Jason

- LIII

- Nico

- LIV

- Nico

- LV

- Nico

- LVI

- Nico

- LVII

- Piper

- LVIII

- Leo

- Glossary

- puffin.co.uk

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- WEB NEWS

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- PUFFIN BOOKS

Table of Contents

Contents

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Document Outline