Chapter 67

I Take Up Gambling

To start, I tried sitting facing Annabeth, but the eye contact felt way too intense. Moving next to her didn't feel right either. We'd done it before, but this seemed serious. Too serious for collectively staring at a spot of clay on the far wall.

Which is a long way of explaining why I was lying on the floor.

"We should've kept the couch," I said.

"There wasn't space for it."

"Nobody ever pulls you aside and explains how much space chariot construction takes before you get wrapped up in the Supernatural Olympics. They should, though. That couch was comfy."

Annabeth was silent. I assumed she was looking at me, but I wasn't willing to take my eyes off the ceiling to check.

"Do you think we could talk Hygeia into turning the floor into cushions? My bet is yes. She's really happy these days. We could even shoot for the ceiling, literally, and try to get a twenty-four-seven trampoline floor."

Annabeth couldn't quite hide her smile. She was trying, though. "When I said we needed to talk, this isn't what I meant."

"I know," I said.

My position came with great ceiling observing opportunities. Isn't it weird? We'd been here for almost two weeks, but I'd never really looked up. There were swirling patterns in the clay that rolled into each other like waves. Somehow, they helped me keep calm. Or at least act like I was.

"There's something I have to tell you," Annabeth said.

I was glad she couldn't see my eyes then because there was no way she would've missed how I blinked.

She had something to tell me? Not the other way around?

"It's a little long," she said, "and I'm just asking one thing. Don't interrupt once I start. I've put off telling this so many times, and I'm scared what'll happen if I get an excuse to stop now."

"Consider me your ordinary, everyday patch of uninterrupting floor."

Annabeth, whose mouth had been open to continue, paused. "Bad start."

I didn't make a zipper motion shutting my lips, because floor didn't do that. I stayed still and silent. That was very floor-like, I thought.

And maybe, just maybe, nerves were starting to make me into a bit of a nutjob.

Annabeth took a deep breath.

"When I was seven," she said, "I was lying awake one night in the Athena Cabin. On the floor, because they still hadn't finished a bunk for me. I couldn't sleep. That happened a lot back then. But this night was different, because it was the first time I recognized something. I hadn't done anything."

"Thalia killed so many monsters on our way to Camp. She beat two Furies at the same time. Then she held off an army, alone, and gave her life for the rest of us. Luke killed almost as many monsters as she did. He'd been there a week, and he was already the toughest demigod at Camp. People weren't wondering if he'd be a counselor, they were guessing when it would happen. And I could accept that, because they were older than me. But then there was you. When Alecto had us cornered, you led her away. You vaporized an entire pack of hellhounds. And I sat back. Just like always."

Considering my oldest memory of her involved barehanded eyeball-wielding and a head-on-head ambush, I wasn't sure sitting back was the right description of her.

If I hadn't promised not to, I would've interrupted and said as much. Even if it was in the past, she was obviously beating herself up over—

"I decided that wasn't a problem," Annabeth said.

Or not?

"I was at a place to train. The place to train. Luke could make counselor first. I would just do it after him. The next time monsters came, I would be ready to stab them in the back. It isn't cowardly. It just shows you planned better than they did."

"For seven years I worked harder than anyone. Luke became a counselor. He got a quest, one he practically begged for. He came back from it alone, scarred and carrying nothing but the claw of the monster that beat him. We assumed he'd recover, and we thought he did. But the damage was done. Chiron ran everything, and he was sick of quests. I became a counselor too. I captained my cabin in Capture the Flag. It didn't matter. Unless something massive happened, I was stuck. I would never see the outside world again."

"Then it did happen. Something massive."

She paused. Shaking her head, she half-smiled. "You know, you're probably the only person on Earth that doesn't know. Zeus's Master Bolt was stolen. The real one. His greatest weapon disappeared from the throne room just hours after the Winter Solstice council. Everyone thought you did it."

I'm not sure how I kept from squeaking. I jerked my head up, pointing at my chest.

"Yes, you," Annabeth said. "It made sense at the time. Losing his Master Bolt weakened Zeus tremendously. Who would gain the most from that? Poseidon. Gods can't steal each other's symbols of power directly, but they can get mortals to do it for them. And Poseidon had the perfect agent: a son nobody had seen in years. I was eleven at the time. A civil war seemed inevitable."

"Chiron saw it too. He knew something had to be done, and with the gods busy dividing themselves, he saw that we needed to be the ones to do it. So he finally issued a quest. Luke had already failed once, so he looked to the other councilors. I got it."

She paused, and her eyes unfocused, staring off into space.

"I needed companions, and the choice seemed easy. I picked Luke and Grover. Luke had been on a quest before, and he was the toughest demigod at Camp. Grover was always there. He'd never take down a monster alone… but if you were going to be in danger, there was no one I trusted more at my side. We set out— not to look for you, though. I insisted you wouldn't do this, and Luke backed me up. We followed the next best guess. Zeus has two brothers, and the theft happened on the one day Hades is allowed to visit Olympus. We traveled to the Underworld."

"Along the way, more clues seemed to fall into place. Hellhounds harassed us. The Furies picked up our trail. It was like deja vu, except Thalia was already gone, and I was suddenly in charge. That mall in Nashville. The hydra in Dallas…" she trailed off with a shudder. "We almost died so many times, it's not even funny. It was dangerous, and exhausting, and I loved every second of it."

"This was exactly what I'd been waiting for. The world was on the line, and it was relying on Annabeth Chase to plan the solution. I'd dreamed of that for years. So as bad as things got, even though I tried to hide it from the others, I was ecstatic. Then I woke up one morning to Luke screaming."

Annabeth stared at her hands as if the memory was replaying on each palm. I sat up, leaning in.

"We'd hitched a ride on an empty freight car heading west out of Fort Worth," she said. "Luke picked the lock. It had been filled with soybeans, so the smell wasn't great, but it was the fastest we'd been traveling all week. We curled up and used our backpacks for pillows and tried to relax. Everything was fine until halfway across New Mexico. Luke had been getting paler for days. He was jumping at shadows, snapping at us if we ignored his advice. At the time we thought it was nerves from his last quest. Then he jolted up that morning, and yelled 'I'll do it!' He looked so shaken up, Grover tried to help him stand. Luke shoved him off."

"He started to talk— fast, like he was on a timer. He reminded us of every terrible thing that's happened under the gods — Pan's disappearance, my family, Thalia's death — and he was… convincing. Really convincing. But he kept talking, and he kept getting more erratic. He cussed out his mom. He spat something about Ares being the world's ugliest bloodhound. For the first time I really noticed his eyes, the bags under them and how bloodshot they were. Something wasn't letting him sleep, I realized, and I said that."

Annabeth took a long, deep breath.

"He got angrier. He ranted about the gods more, but it was less persuasive. He picked up his sword. When Grover tried to convince him to set it down, he lashed out. The door jarred open. Luke didn't notice or didn't care."

"Wind was rushing in then. It was so loud, we couldn't hear half of what Luke was saying. Grover's hat blew off. There was a fire in Luke's eyes that I want to say I'd never seen before, but that isn't true. I'd seen it. I just ignored it every time, because I didn't want to see the bad in him. I pleaded with him to calm down. I don't know if he heard me or not, but it doesn't matter. He took a step toward me. Grover grabbed him, and Luke hit him."

"The train was still going just as fast, but for a moment it seemed slow. Grover stumbled. He had a hand to his nose, and there was blood under it. His eyes were fluttering. He was so disoriented he didn't know where he was. He took one more step back and— He fell."

I forgot all about my promise to keep quiet. "Was he—?"

Annabeth shut her eyes. I didn't finish my question.

"I looked," she said. "I looked as much as I could, later. But we'd been passing over a bridge and… It was hundreds of feet down, Percy. There was no way."

I couldn't tell if she was trying to convince me he couldn't have survived, or that she couldn't have found him. I wasn't sure she knew either.

"Luke let you go?"

"He froze. When Grover disappeared, he stopped moving. I got my hat on, and I ran. I ditched the train and managed to make it to El Paso. I still regret it. If I hadn't panicked, I could've gotten him then. He wasn't paying attention. If I just gave him one push…"

I let her take her time. I'd only met Grover once, but he was the reason Annabeth and Luke made it to camp at all. Mrs. O'Leary liked him. He seemed like a great guy.

Luke called his death a 'silly little grudge'.

The thought weaseled into my brain with the subtlety of a stumbling cyclops. That was the only thing he'd told me— that Annabeth had some silly hang-up to get over, and then she'd join us. That was all this tragedy was to him: one blunder messing up his chances of bringing the gang back together.

I took a deep breath and forced my brain back on track.

"What about Zeus's Master Bolt?"

Annabeth seemed glad to move the story along.

"I made it back to New York. It wasn't easy, but I got a flight out of El Paso. I went straight to Olympus. Luke was the thief, not you. He'd stolen my hat and done it when we visited. If Poseidon wasn't the thief, Zeus turned to other suspects. Who would want a war? It only took them a day to catch Ares with the Master Bolt and Hades' Helm of Darkness. No one even knew the second one was missing."

"Ares wanted a war that badly?"

"I'm sure he wanted it a little," Annabeth said. "But when he caught Luke, Kronos dug into him. He played with his mind. Made Ares think it was all his plan. Zeus didn't acknowledge that of course — not yet, when he could still pretend his father hadn't returned — but I wonder if he knew, just because of Ares' punishment. Dionysus had been the unofficial director at Camp for decades. But he got an early release, and his half-brother took over."

"When it happened, it felt like more of a punishment for the demigods than for Ares. Camp changed overnight. No more canoeing, and definitely no arts and crafts. The Hephaestus Cabin only made weaponary. Capture the flag and practice duels went from weekly events to daily routines. People complained, but nobody was stupid enough to do it in the War God's face. I hate to admit it, but it prepared us better than anything could have."

Since skirmishes started breaking out across the country, half-bloods had been beating back monsters in numbers that shouldn't have been possible. No wonder it was going so well for them. They'd spent the last two years getting personal instruction from Olympus's toughest fighter.

"I enjoyed it at the time." Annabeth's voice was suddenly in a way that immediately gripped my attention. "Ares kept us so busy. And if I was busy, I couldn't spend that time thinking about other things. It wasn't perfect. Falling asleep was rough. But it was better than it would've been."

She looked me in the eyes, and I realized that by sitting up I'd put myself in range of that dead-on stare that intimidated me earlier.

"I made four friends before I got to Camp. One disappeared somewhere I couldn't follow. Two died in front of me. And both times, it was the last one's fault. But it was also my fault. When we were running to Camp, Luke was so reckless, and every time Thalia confronted him over it I backed him up. I was young and stupid. But five years later it was the same. I still froze. I grew up, and nothing changed."

You weren't grown up, I wanted to say. You were eleven. Luke was twenty. And he still made those choices.

Did she want to hear that? I didn't think so. But I didn't know what else to say.

This was happening a lot. Twice seemed like a lot for a single day, at least. Daedalus couldn't let go of his mistake, even when it was ancient history. He'd changed, but I couldn't make him see that. Annabeth moved on easily. Where she once worshiped Luke's guts, now she wanted to spill them. But she felt stuck— she was convinced she'd missed her only chance to change, even though she was still so young.

I blinked. Maybe I didn't have to find the right words after all. Maybe that wasn't my job.

An idea so wild came to me, even Apollo would've been impressed.

"Do you trust me?" I asked.

Annabeth frowned. "Percy, what—?"

"Do you trust me?"

"I do."

My fingers wrapped around the sun charm. I breathed deeply, then took it and held it out.

"Take this," I said. "Speak into it. Introduce yourself. You don't have to do anything else, just talk to the person on the other end. Tell them as much as you're willing to of what you just told me. When you're finished, I'll be waiting right here. I'll answer anything you ask."

Annabeth stared at me like I'd become a hydra and grown a second head. "Do you realize how strange that request is? It's so ambiguous. There's so much you're leaving out. This could be a terrible idea in at least seven different ways, and I'm still thinking of more as I say this."

"You said you trusted me."

"I do, but—"

"No buts."

She stayed still for a moment, before eventually reaching out.

"I'm only doing this because the curiosity would drive me crazy if I didn't," she said, taking the charm. "I guess I'll be back soon. Hopefully."

She retreated to her bedroom, charm in hand. Maybe that was a safety precaution against one of those seven terrible possibilities, or maybe talking about Grover in front of me once was as much as she could stomach.

I really meant to stay up and wait for her, but I guess I overestimated myself. Before I even realized I'd dozed off, the dream started.

I hadn't had a proper dream since the first night here. Hecate had blocked them to stop 'unfair advantages'. Apparently, this didn't qualify, and I thought I could see why. I'd been transported back to Ancient Greece.

You could tell the difference because nature always felt more alive in the past. Extra birds sang, more animals darted through the brush, and there was never any distant hum from engines. Seven men trudged along a dusty road in full armor. There were lots of bushes but no trees, and the day looked hot. The men were smiling slightly.

"Have you ever seen funeral games so nice?" said the one on the left, a guy with brown hair and the face of a minor-league catcher. "I definitely haven't."

"They were grand indeed, Eteoclus," said the guy next to him. "As grand as our battle will be, when Thebes falls at our feet!"

"Calmly now, Capaneus," said the smallest one. He had sharp eyes that reminded me of Annabeth's, in intensity if not color. "It will not do to become overconfident."

"You worry too much, Tydeus," said another. "We're the Seven Against Thebes! A collection of heroes this great has not been assembled since the Argonauts sailed!"

"And which of us will be Hercules, then?" Tydeus asked. "You, Hippomedon?"

"Well… I am quite strong. See that stone there?" Hippomedon pointed off the road to a rock about as big as a labrador. "I could probably lift that."

The others made impressed noises, and Hippomedon held his chin a little higher.

"But what about those games?" Eteoclus said. "They really were so nice."

"Yes, yes—"

"I think Nemea is going to go on holding them. I heard them talking about it. I bet one day it will become one of the Panhellenic games, and then nobody will ever forget us!"

"The Seven Against Thebes will be known for more than just that. Even Zeus could not stop me from scaling Thebes' walls!"

"Overconfidence, Capaneus–!"

The others talked over Tydeus, and his warning was quickly lost under jokes and chatter.

The last thing I heard was Tydeus saying, "Don't you think no games will ever be so nice as those were?" and then the scene rippled out of focus like a disrupted puddle.

I smelled smoke. I was outside a city with high marble walls. A black streak ran down one patch in a column, like a fire had burned that spot only. Seven bodies were lined up nearby, eyes staring unseeingly into the cloudy sky.

It was the Seven Against Thebes.

All of them were accounted for except for overconfident Capaneus, but a body on the end was charred beyond recognition. I glanced back at the charred column on the wall. Apparently, Zeus could stop him from climbing those walls.

A man with a long face and mustache prowled around the bodies. He was wearing armor, but it was studded with jewels and complicated patterns. The only people who wore that sort of armor were the kind who spent more time thinking about fighting than actually doing it. I knew a king when I saw one.

A detail of twelve soldiers stood close by. One or two were shifting nervously.

"Sir," one said, "are you certain we should not bury the bodies?"

The king spun to glare at him.

"These men attacked us," he said. "They would have struck you down in a heartbeat. They would have plundered and burned our homes. Worst of all, they wanted to take my power. They deserve to rot."

"But won't the gods be angry with us?"

Instead of answering, the king turned to the nearest body— Hippomedon. He brought his boot down on one hand again and again until it changed shape.

"See?" cried the king. "Look at our walls. The king of all gods is on our side! In Tydeus' last moments, his patron Athena abandoned him. We are the divine victors. We have nothing to fear!"

"You ought to listen to your soldiers, Creon."

I thought I'd been paying attention, but I didn't notice the stranger until he spoke. The king — Creon — stiffened.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

I got my first good look at the stranger— and I recognized him. Sea-green eyes identical to mine. Broad, handsome features. He was older here, but I'd gotten a real good look at him as he tried to throw me like a football. This was the Theoroi I had fought.

"The gods do not like sore winners," said the Theoroi. "It isn't too late, Creon. Discover some grace. Give them a proper burial."

The soldiers were all fingering their weapons, but they seemed scared to draw them. Their eyes were locked on the newcomer. His voice washed over everyone, deep and composed.

"Athens cannot stick its nose into everything," Creon said. "This is Thebes, and I am king here, not you. Go back. Leave these fools to the fate they earned."

"They were fools," the Theoroi agreed. "But if you believe you can treat them this way, you are the biggest fool of all."

"I will not tolerate insults in my home, Athenian."

"Fools will be called fools, be it here or in Athens or on Olympus itself."

"But here is where you are, and like these seven here, you may find that our weapons are sharp, and that we are not afraid to wield them."

One nervous guard drew their sword. The Theoroi was on Creon in a flash.

He was waiting for that, I realized.

The king tried to draw his own sword, but the Theoroi squeezed his wrist and the arm stopped moving with a pop. With one hand around his throat, the Theoroi effortlessly lifted the king off the ground.

"I have run out of patience," he said. "I am going to take these bodies with me. I am going to bury them, and give them their final rites, as they deserve. You are going to send your men home, and then you will go home yourself. You've won this battle, Creon. Celebrate it. Drink to it. But just know, that if you ever attempt something like this again, I will find you."

Creon's face was turning purple. His legs flailed wildly, but with each kick they moved a little bit less. The Theoroi smiled up at him.

"Don't look so afraid," he said. "If it comes to that, I'll make sure to get your last rites."

He let go. Creon landed on all fours, heaving and gasping. All the soldiers had their weapons drawn, but they were hesitating. They didn't know what to do.

Then Creon ran.

His intricate armor jangling and hanging loose in places, the king sprinted back to his city's walls, sword left behind in his panic. The soldiers followed.

The Theoroi was left alone in the field, watching until their backs disappeared inside the walls. Then he turned, knelt, clasped his hands over the bodies, and offered a long, solemn prayer.

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