Well, we're finally here. It took FUCKING FOREVER but I finally got to the Titan War!
I've got a general idea of where I'm going with this story, but most of it I'm just making up as I go along.
Also—I went through the books but couldn't figure out when the campers learned that Nico was a son of Hades. Let's just say they learned it sometime between BOTL and TLO.
Probably it's there and I'm missing it, but oh well.
"Are they sure this'll work?"
"Obviously not, but they have to try."
"They can't seriously think that the two of them will be able to blow up a whole cruise ship." I'd never seen Austin look so worried. He was normally calm, collected, I think the word I'm looking for is chill.
Jazz players. They'll take over the world if we don't stop them.
Austin was our newest cabin member, and a couple years younger than me, putting him at almost eleven. He had been found by a satyr named Woodrow (seriously, did all satyrs have incredibly boring, old-fashioned names?) all several months ago, hiding from an empousa in an alleyway. He had been claimed within a week, and was taking the news of everything quite well.
The last year had been . . . hard to describe. Our cabin had completely lost contact with Kronos's demigods—they'd broken off our tenuous partnership after we fought for Camp Half-Blood in the Battle of the Labyrinth. But our cabin continued to stubbornly wear their necklaces, and secretly support Kronos, even if they were fighting for the gods.
I did too. Things aren't always black and white.
Ayesha, Kingsley, and Maddox had gone to join Kronos.
Miyoko was dead—killed by a drakon. The same drakon that had first attacked the camp. The same one Ayesha, Michael, Lee, and I had fought. The same one that had slashed Michael.
Phoenix was simply gone—vanished into thin air.
Her disappearance hit me the hardest. She and I had been close, not as close as me and Michael were, but close enough that when she disappeared, I cried until my ribs hurt.
But only in my cabin.
There were five of us originals—Michael, Gracie, A.J., Kayla, and me. Then the satyrs had gone into overdrive tracking down as many rogue demigods as they could, and thanks to them, we had four new cabin mates—Brody, Neva, Cory, and, of course, Austin. Their ages ranged from ten (Austin) to fourteen (Neva), bringing us up to a grand total of nine kids.
Whatever. Stupid fucking shit.
The newbies didn't know our secret.
Neither did Kayla.
I think we all planned to keep it that way.
Our cabin wasn't the only one decimated by the purge—dozens of campers had joined Kronos, or been killed by monsters, or simply vanished off the face of the earth.
And everyone had spent the last year preparing for the inevitable Titan War—Athena kids thinking up strategy after strategy, Ares kids practicing battle formation the whole goddamn day, Hephaestus kids building taps and armor and gods know what else.
Thirteen-year-old Jake was the second oldest in his cabin.
I hardly saw him anymore. Which was just as well.
Despite my protests, Kayla had been dragging me to the archery range at least once a week to teach me all that she could. Michael backed her up— "You don't have to be great," he said, "but you should be able to defend yourself." I could actually hit the target on most shots now.
Where were we? Ah, yes, Percy Jackson and Charles Beckendorf's plan to blow up a cruise ship full of Kronos and his allies.
Austin and I were on one of our rare breaks. We were sitting on the end of the dock (we'd both been avoiding our cabin lately; we'd get decapitated if we went too close), attracting a lot of looks from the other campers, who couldn't understand why we got to sit still and do nothing.
I would have gladly traded places with them. I'd had to set a broken arm at three in the morning.
Austin glanced at the sun. "Uh . . . don't you have to leave for guard duty?"
"Shit," I muttered, then decided not to tell Gracie I had cursed in front of an eleven-year-old. "I'd better go—tell Michael and Gracie I'll be at work in an hour."
Austin grimaced.
"On second thought, stay the heck away from Michael." He had been profoundly pissed off at the Ares cabin for way too long—most of our cabin had been. The Ares cabin had been pissed right back. It was a long story, involving a raided chariot and a disagreement over whose it was.
I will say this, though—our cabin is fucking petty. Even if the chariot technically is ours (and most of the camp agrees with us), we're in the middle of a war, for the love of Hades.
Austin and Gracie agreed with me. We were avoiding both cabins as best we could—fights tended to break out between them, involving fire, stabbing, and rhyming couplets.
Guard duty was usually boring.
It involved sitting in a tree for an hour. If the guard saw anything interesting, they had to blow a horn and alert the camp. Except there was never anything interesting during my shifts.
Except that day I got paired up with someone.
Before I'd even got to the tree, I noticed a familiar mop of brown curls. "Hey!" he called. "Didn't know they were pairing us up."
"Yes," I said with a sigh, climbing up to join Jake in the tree. "Guess you're not trustworthy. I'm babysitting."
Although I wouldn't have admitted it, I had extremely mixed feelings about the fact that I couldn't see Jake as much I used to be able to. Part of me didn't like it, because Jake was my friend and always would be. But part of me—the part I despised—was glad, because it made it a lot easier to ignore some—ah—uncomfortable topics. My wrist had long since healed, but the memory had not.
But I tried not to think about that.
"How many?"
Jake startled and looked over at me. "How many what?"
I fixed my gaze on the lake. "How many did you lose?"
"Oh, uh…" he looked as though he was considering counting on his fingers, but decided he didn't want to know. "At least six, I think. Seven, maybe."
I was surprised. "Wow. That's even worse than us."
He nodded, fixing a pair of resigned, dark gray eyes on a patch of lichen. "How many for you?"
"Five."
We finished the rest of our guard hour in silence.
Outside the infirmary, I ran into Nico di Angelo.
He was leaning against the wall, not doing anything, just staring into space. His eyes had a broken, haunted look. An obsidian-black sword hung at his side.
He started when he saw me. "What are you doing here?" His voice had an edge of suspicion, as if I had been spying on him instead of going to my job.
"I, uh, work here?" I nodded toward the infirmary. I was tempted to ask, What's your excuse, but that seemed a little cruel.
His expression softened slightly, or was I imagining it? "Oh. It's you."
Nico was more difficult to talk to than a doorknob. He hadn't been at camp for a long time—of course, I knew enough by then to make an educated guess, but I knew better than to ask. Even if I was burning with questions.
I took a stab at it anyway. "How come you're here?"
His eyes flashed dangerously. I could have sworn the temperature dropped a few degrees. "You don't have to know that," he said coldly.
Fucking GODS, would people never get tired of telling me that? What the hell did I do?
"Okay, well . . . I'm just gonna go," I said awkwardly.
"Fine. Go." He returned his gaze to the fourth dimension.
I missed our comfortable silence. Trying to be Nico's friend was like trying to make friends with a saltwater crocodile.
At least we understood the darkness now.
Nico was a child of Hades.
Shit made a lot more sense now—the way he'd summoned and controlled the skeletons, the darkness in his soul, why he looked like an emo vampire. I couldn't believe we hadn't figured it out sooner.
Hades hadn't broken the oath, that much I knew—Nico had been trapped in a place where he didn't age, and who knew how long he'd been there for. That, Percy had told me.
I wanted to ask him the details, or ask him why he was outside the infirmary, or even just ask how he was doing, but one viscous glare from him was all it took before I was moving right along.
Nice guy.
The infirmary was empty except for Gracie and Kayla. Michael was probably off practicing archery, or beating up Ares kids, or getting beaten up by Ares kids; it really could go either way. I'd seen it go either way.
Gracie and Kayla looked up at the sound of my footsteps. Kayla went back to her work. Gracie smiled, but it was strained. She was terrified of the war. So was Kayla. So was I, come to think of it.
I barely had time to look around to see what I had to do before Austin burst into the infirmary, breathing hard. "Percy!" he gasped. "He's back!"
Kayla and Gracie leaped to their feet. I started to follow, then remembered that I was already standing. We immediately followed Austin outside, blinking against the harsh sunshine. (Wow, I put those two words together.) We weren't alone—the entire camp was crowding around the dining pavilion. I was hesitant to go there—our cabin and the Ares cabin were both there, after all—but they didn't appear to be committing arson at the moment, so I figured we were safe.
It took a few moments to register that Percy was indeed back—but only Percy. No sign of the muscled, dark–skinned head of the Hephaestus cabin.
Behind me, Gracie sucked in a sharp breath. "That's not good."
"Percy!" Chiron exclaimed. "Thank the gods! But where…"
About time he noticed. It was obvious that Beckendorf wasn't around and wouldn't be any time soon.
Annabeth ran in right after him and grabbed Percy's arm. "What happened?" she demanded. "Is Luke…"
"The ship blew up," Percy said. "He wasn't destroyed. I don't know where—"
It was Silena Beauregard's turn to shove through the crowd. Her hair was disheveled and she wore no makeup, which was a first for a daughter of Aphrodite. I immediately felt a pulse of sympathy for her. She had been dating Beckendorf that summer, and both of them were as happy as I'd ever seen them. If he was dead . . .
"Where's Charlie?" Silena asked, looking around. Clearly she had not noticed the obvious.
Chiron cleared his throat. "Silena, my dear, let's talk about this at the Big House—"
"No," Silena muttered, beginning to cry. "No. No."
We all stood around in stunned silence. No one really knew what to say, or what to do to comfort the grieving daughter of Aphrodite. I wasn't sure there was anything they could do—when people lose someone they loved, all bets are off on how they'll react to condolences. Some people appreciate the kindness, others will lash out verbally—and sometimes physically. I remembered Lee's story about an Ares girl who had lost her best friend. When he tried to apologize for not being able to save her, she slammed him against a wall so hard she cracked it. The cracks are still there, if anyone is interested.
Finally, the last person I would've thought would want to comfort Silena stepped forward. Clarisse la Rue wrapped an arm around Silena and began gently murmuring to her. "Come on, girl. Let's get you to the Big House. I'll make you some hot chocolate.
Gracie put a hand on Kayla's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get back to the infirmary. We have to make salves—we're running low."
Kayla grinned crookedly. "I like making salves. Makes me feel like a scientist."
"Well, I'm glad one of us is happy," I said. "Because I would rather—"
"Scrub out the bedpans again?" Gracie suggested, her eyes glinting with humor.
I snapped my jaw shut. "On second thought, I think I'll help mix the salve."
They called a war council.
I was not invited.
The good news was, neither were Gracie and Kayla, so they got to share my misery. The making of herbal salves is a delicate process—Kayla and I had a slight mental breakdown over the correct amount of beeswax to add. It ended abruptly when she picked up the chunk of yellow wax and threw it at my face.
Apollo's kids are very good with projectile weapons. If you don't think beeswax is a projectile weapon, that's because you haven't been hit in the face with it.
I had kind of missed the chaotic-ness of normal camp life. There was hardly any of it now, even in the mischievous Hermes cabin. The infirmary was one of the only places it still existed. When we didn't have any patients, that was.
Ironic, considering we are usually the angry ones.
I missed having a cabin that wasn't constantly going at the throats of another cabin (and sending them to the infirmary where I would have to deal with them; I got some very colorful death threats. I really wished both cabins would just LET IT FUCKING GO. Who cared about who had the best claim to a damn chariot when so many of our campers were dead and we were on the brink of (and technically in the start of, I reminded myself) war? People need to get their priorities set straight before they get something set permanently straight that shouldn't be—an arm, for instance. Or a penis, that happened to a guy a couple years ago because of—
Actually, we all agreed never to speak of that.
I hoped Michael and Clarisse weren't attacking each other with carving knives in the meeting. Poor Silena didn't need to deal with that, not after her boyfriend's death. Something told me that Michael wouldn't really take that into consideration. Same for Clarisse.
Dickheads.
I lost track of time. I was thinking. Even in my fucked-up state, I knew that my thinking was worse for me than the others, even though they were the ones stuck with boredom. I'd have traded with them any day.
I wasn't sure how long it was before the council meeting was adjourned. I only knew it had been because Michael stormed into the infirmary, brimming with fury. Kayla took one look and booked it, leaving the door open and swinging behind her. I sighed and shut it.
"That bitch," Michael growled, flinging himself onto a cot. "I'm gonna kill her. I'm gonna fucking kill her."
Gracie and I exchanged a nervous look. "Uh," I started, which I thought was pretty brave of me, "you're killing what bitch?"
He gave me a look so full of loathing that I would have been sobbing with fear had he not been several inches shorter than me. "Clarisse, obviously." Coherent words gave way to mumbled curses and promises of what he would do if he ever got Clarisse in a headlock.
I could have pointed out a glaring flaw in his logic, but instead, I asked, "Is it about the chariot still?"
That last word was a mistake.
He dragged himself off the bed, still glaring fiercely. "No, it is not just 'the chariot still.'" He did finger quotes. We waited patiently. "That fucking bitch is refusing to let her cabin fight."
Gracie and I exchanged another look. This time, we weren't nervous. We were horrified.
The Ares cabin refusing to fight—that was bad. Bad was an understatement, really, but I didn't know what other word to use. We might not have been doomed—
Okay, yes. We were doomed.
Gracie found her voice. "And—is there any way to get her to change her mind?"
He stared incredulously at her. "Get Clarisse to change her mind? Do you hear yourself?"
"Okay, I know," Gracie admitted. "But what if you gave up the chariot?"
He snorted. "Hell, no. That bitch thinks she can throw a temper tantrum and she'll get her way. The Ares cabin can fucking suck it."
I gazed at the ceiling hopelessly. Trying to convince a stubborn Michael was like trying to convince a sleeping rhino to get up and move, but I had a stab at it. "Okay, pride—I get it. But do you seriously not understand we are about to fight a fucking war? We need all the help we can get, especially the god of war's children. Your war prize or whatever doesn't fucking matter, you see. It's a chariot, not the goddamned Baby Jesus. And nothing will matter if we lose. This. Fucking. War."
What a persuasive essay I had just written. I tried not to ruin the effect by gasping for breath.
He held my glare for a few moments, then looked away. "I'm not giving it up. Not yet. If the war is right in front of us and she is still refusing to fight, then we'll see."
I figured that was the best we'd get.
"Oh, and one more thing," I started. "Who's the new Hephaestus head counselor?" I already knew, but some part of me didn't believe it.
He frowned, evidently considering this a useless piece of information. "Jake Mason. Why?"
I sighed, rubbing my forehead. Thirteen-year-old Jake, suddenly in charge of his cabin in the middle of a war . . . "No reason."
"Uh . . . okay. Oh, and one more thing, we can't wear the necklaces any more. They're on the lookout for Kronos's spy now, even more than before and if they think it's one of us . . ."
I sighed, not surprised but reluctant. I had been wearing the mark of a traitor for the better part of a year, and although I would be safer without it, part of me would still feel like it was missing. I was tempted to say we should keep them - we weren't the spies, after all - but I thought about how explaining that to the rest of the camp would look. No, Chiron, we're not agents of Kronos. We just wear these lovely silver scythe charms to symbolize our disloyalty to the gods - yeah, it would never work.
"We should hide them in No Man's Land," I said. "No one goes back there."
Gracie smiled. "Good thinking." She unclipped her necklace and handed it to me. Michael did the same. I unclipped mine—a slight chill going up my spine—and carried them into the back room.
I found a good hiding spot—the bottom of a barrel full of empty salve jars and ointment tubes. I set mine slightly apart from the others, although I wasn't quite sure why. But I had a feeling that, some day, I would need it again.
When I returned, my siblings were talking quietly. My guard immediately went up—I was expecting them to be secretive and tell me I wasn't allowed to know whatever it was they were talking about.
But they didn't.
Instead, Gracie sighed and beckoned me over. "Come on," she said. "You might as well know what's keeping the gods busy."
Fear curled into a heavy ball in my stomach. "W-what's keeping the gods?"
Michael nodded. "There's a reason they can't defend Olympus.
I grimaced. "Well? What is it?"
So Michael told me.
It happened the next day.
I hate next days.
I was in the infirmary, as were Gracie, Neva, and Brody. We would be the designated field medics as well as fighters. I was okay with the first part. It was the second I wasn't so sure about.
It would probably be okay. I'd just . . . something.
We were all preparing. Of course we were—we'd been preparing for weeks now.
I don't know why it came as a surprise.
It was Kayla who brought the message, her face pale. As soon as she opened the door, we were all tensed up to hell and back. That was not a going-to-help-my-friends-out face. That was an oh-shit-we're-all-gonna-die face. Kayla had a helmet tucked under her arm and a bow slung over her back.
She tried to hide it, I know, but her voice shook. "Annabeth got the call from Percy. She s—said we have to meet him at the Empire State Building now. It—it's time." Then she scrambled away.
The scariest part wasn't that we all freaked the fuck out. It was that we showed zero reaction whatsoever.
We all stood up, grabbed field medic kits, and attached them to our belts. They carried enough supplies to (hopefully) keep the majority of us (forty people. Overwhelming, I know.) alive.
Gracie faced us. "Right, well, I guess there's no use in wasting time. Just . . . remember the rules, okay?"
We nodded grimly. We remembered, all right.
None of us were amazing archers, which was probably why we had ended up as healers. But we grabbed bows and quivers from the cabin instead. The arrows weren't normal—some were, and then some were incendiary, explosive, or, in Michael's case, ultrasonic.
"A gift from our dad," he explained when I asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I lowered my voice. "And is the Ares cabin convinced yet?"
He shook his head ruefully. "No—but you'll be happy to know I gave the chariot to them."
I actually smiled, then remembered the first part of his sentence. "But they still won't help?"
He shook his head again. "They're sick of feeling used."
I lowered my gaze to my quiver—just ordinary arrows; I didn't trust myself with the others. With my luck, I'd drop one and blow the whole cabin into the fucking exosphere. "I mean . . . we know what that feels like."
He snorted. "Maybe, but we have the good sense not to make it everyone else's problem."
"I guess."
Michael stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. With a start, I realized he hadn't hugged me since Lee's death—so, almost a year. Michael wasn't really one for showing affection.
"Please be safe, Will," he whispered. "We don't need to lose you."
Tears welled in my eyes. He hadn't said we don't need to lose another camper, or we don't need to lose our best medic. He said you, as if I was actually enough without being either of those things. It was something one was not often told in my line of work.
"Please don't die either," I begged. "We need you. I need you."
"I have no plans to. We're a family, and family never abandons each other." He stepped away and shouldered his bow. "We'd better go."
Fucking chicken ladies.
Who the hell let these things drive?
I got shuttled into one of the harpy-driven trucks, along with Gracie, Kayla, and Cory, along with a dozen other campers. No Nico—he had vanished along with Percy the day before. I'd asked Michael, but he had no idea where he had gone.
Whatever. Water under the bridge, as I kept telling myself.
The back of a strawberry truck, sans strawberries, was not a particularly comfortable place to sit. It was dark and damp, and seeing as there were no seats, we all piled onto the floor. The truck was bumping and shaking so hard I could hear my teeth knocking together. Not to mention the fact that we had to grip the walls and the floor like the bumps on a rock-climbing wall to avoid being hurled around like tiny plastic balls in a rattle.
The smell wasn't even good—you would expect a strawberry truck to smell like strawberries, and in a way, it did, although those strawberries had been past their sell-by date around Nixon's presidency.
Ah, well, we were about to fight the evil-or-so-we-were-told Titan lord and his army, so maybe the Emporium of Rotten Strawberries wasn't the worst place to sit.
We waited in a tense silence, filled with words we couldn't bring ourselves to say.
When we finally pulled to a stop, we pushed and shoved, tumbling over each other in our desperate bid for freedom. We were close to the Empire State Building, and with the sun just starting to set behind it, the scene could have been a picture in a calendar.
I didn't like that the sun was about to set. It gave me a shivery, doomed feeling.
Percy Jackson was waiting on the curb, Mrs. O'Leary bounding along the sidewalk behind him, shifting hot dog carts and chasing her tail. Had she not been a massive demonic Underworld creature, I would have smiled.
We gathered around Percy, Chiron's equine half compacted into his magical wheelchair. We all knew that having this many half-bloods together was like setting up several searchlights and lighthouses, setting off fireworks, sending up flares, and striking up a lively tune on a hundred-piece orchestra, but that was kind of a moot point by now. Every monster in Kronos's army was about to come down on us like a fleet of cosmic titanium hammers no matter what we did, and being scattered around like dandelion fluff wasn't about to make them scratch their heads and go welp, we thought we had 'em, but those clever bastards pulled the ole bait-and-switch.
Annabeth walked up next to Percy and asked him a question in a low voice. He gave her a confused look and a response I couldn't hear before turning to face us. I almost smiled, watching them. Everyone knew Percy and Annabeth had crushes on each other but the two of them. Before I could smile, I caught myself. Not the time, Will.
"Thanks for coming, everybody," Percy started. "Chiron, after you."
The old centaur shook his head. He looked sad but resigned—he had seen far too many heroes die. I reminded myself that by the end of the day, I might very well be in the same boat. Then I stopped reminding myself, because I did not want to cry. "I came to wish you luck, my boy," Chiron said, "but I make it a point never to visit Olympus unless I am summoned."
"But you're our leader," Percy protested.
Chiron smiled thinly. "I am your trainer, your teacher. That is not the same as being your leader. I will gather what allies I can. It may not be too late to convince my brother centaurs to help. Meanwhile, you called the campers here, Percy. You are the leader."
I wasn't sure about that—I really had no idea what the fuck Percy got up to, and I wasn't really sure I trusted him. Then again, he had called us here, and here I was, ready and willing to fight for him.
Okay, maybe not ready or willing, but I was here, and that had to count for something.
True, whispered that annoying little voice I would do anything to shut up, but a surprising amount of things that should count for something don't seem to.
Shut up, I told it for the eighty millionth time.
Percy took a deep breath. "Okay, like I told Annabeth on the phone, something bad is going to happen by tonight. Some kind of trap. We've got to get an audience with Zeus and convince him to defend the city. Remember, we can't take no for an answer. Argus, can you please watch Mrs. O'Leary?"
Argus and Mrs. O'Leary did not look thrilled with this arrangement, but they didn't complain. Of course, that might have been because neither of them talked, but still.
"You'll do well, Percy," Chiron said. "Just remember your strengths and beware your weaknesses."
That sounded vaguely ominous to me, but Percy gave him a confident smile. Or tried to, anyway. "Let's go."
Honestly, what is it with people about to fight world-shattering battles and saying let's go?
I mean, let's not, really.
I restrained myself from screaming I don't wanna! and followed the other half-bloods into the Empire State Building. Despite all the times I had been in New York with my mom, I had never seen it before, and I had to admit it was kind of cool.
The guard was not thrilled about letting us up—I didn't hear what Percy said to him, but it must have been fucking convincing.
We had to go up in two groups—I got shuttled into the first, which meant I could do the Walk of Shame to my imminent death before almost twenty people. Hooray!
Honestly, to this day I am convinced that whatever I later experienced in the war was no worse than listening to the Muzak version of "Stayin' Alive."
Seriously, ask anyone in the Apollo cabin what they think of elevator music. Or don't, unless you want to be treated to an hour-long rant about wasted potential and butchering good music and something else, I wasn't really listening.
I wondered if my dad had a hand in the song choice. If he did, I was going to burn a bag of dogshit in the brazier at the next meal. If there was a next meal.
After a torturous five millenia and thirty-six minutes, the elevator finally dinged.
My jaw dropped.
Mount Olympus was the most massive city I'd ever seen—I felt like an ant standing in a normal human city. Except that city was all pearly white and glittering gold, with elegant curves and columns and a floating path of stones through the clouds. Beautiful gardens bloomed on the terraces.
Then again, something seemed . . . off.
Then I realized.
Mount Olympus had become a ghost town.
It was completely and utterly silent.
A shiver went up my spine.
The elevator doors opened, and the second group of ear-assaulted and traumatized demigods tumbled out. They, too, were slightly dumbstruck for a few moments, then quickly recovered themselves.
We crossed the floating bridge—I couldn't deny the thrill it gave me, even considering our present situation—and actually entered the streets of Olympus. It would have been much more full of life had it not been deserted.
"Look!" Pollux suddenly shouted, pointing toward the sky. "What is that?"
All our heads snapped upwards. Blue lights were streaking across the sky like tiny blue shooting stars. They disappeared when they got close to the mountain.
"Like infrared scopes," Michael muttered. "We're being targeted."
"Let's get to the palace," Percy said.
The massive silver-and-gold doors had locks, no guards, no office buzzer system, no nothing. We walked right in.
Once again, my jaw dropped.
Massive doesn't really cover it—we could have fit several blue whales, a large fleet of semi-trucks, and the International Space Station into the throne room and still had room for a game of flag football and field hockey and maybe even a show jumping course.
The thrones themselves were . . . interesting. They were huge as well, of course, but they almost reminded me of the cabins in that they were each completely unique. Zeus's throne was the most stereotypical, or course—tall, white and gold, lightning bolt designs, way overboard on the Doric order. Hera's was about the same, similar to her cabin—slim, graceful, Ionic and Corinthian locked in a strict Battle of the Orders. (See, Chiron? I payed attention in the education program.) But the other gods' chairs were much more unique—Poseidon's was a captain's chair complete with holes for fishing rods or a trident. Or both. Apollo's was so bright gold it hurt my eyes to look at, with a back shaped like a harp. Or a lyre. Is there a difference? I should know that. Dionysus's chair had grape vines twining around it, supporting the legs and covering the armrests.
In the corner, there was a giant globe of water, and in the water . . .
I had to rub my eyes and do a double take. The front half of a cow was attached to the bottom half of a serpent. It was one of the strangest creatures I'd ever seen, which was saying something, considering I had once seen an Ares kid sobbing like a three-year-old after breaking his arm.
"Moooo!" the creature called, swimming in a circle.
Percy grinned. "Hey, man. They treating you okay?"
The cow-snake mooed in response. Okay, Percy knew the thing. That checked out. The guy had evidently been everywhere, except maybe not Ikea.
"Hello again, Percy Jackson. You and your friends are always welcome."
A woman stood by the hearth, tending the flames. She wore a simple brown dress and a brown head scarf over her hair.
Percy immediately bowed. "Lady Hesia."
My hackles immediately went up at the news that I was in the presence of a god, but I bowed along with all the other half-bloods.
Hestia regarded us. Her eyes were glowing red, but not in an evil way. They were warm and friendly, like the kind of campfire mortals roasted marshmallows and sang songs over.
I found myself missing campfires.
"I see you went through with your plan," the goddess of the hearth said. "You bear the curse of Achilles."
"He what?" Gracie hissed.
"The curse of Achilles?" I whispered. "You mean he's . . . invulnerable?"
"That is what that is," Kayla pointed out. "But how did he . . ."
"You must be careful," Hestia warned. You gained much on your journey. But you are still blind to the most important truth. Perhaps a glimpse is in order?"
Annabeth blinked, confused. "Uh . . . what is she talking about?"
Percy locked eyes with the goddess. Then he collapsed.
Annabeth grabbed him. "Percy! What happened?"
"Did . . . did you see that?" Percy asked. His voice was slightly slurred, as if he had been drugged.
"See what?"
Percy glanced at Hestia. "How long was I out?"
Annabeth looked concerned. "Percy, you weren't put at all. You just looked at Hestia for like one second and collapsed."
Percy blinked, then shook his head. "Um, Lady Hestia, we've come on urgent business. We need to see—"
"I know what you need."
A man materialized next to Hestia. He had elfish features and curly salt-and-pepper hair. He looked to be about in his mid twenties. Tiny wings fluttered out the sides of his military helmet and leather boots. He was holding a staff with two intertwined snakes—a caduceus. I knew it well. Hermes might have been the god of messengers, but his staff was the symbol of medicine.
"Hello, Percy." Hermes didn't sound very happy with the son of Poseidon.
Percy bowed, looking nervous. "Lord Hermes."
Oh, sure, a male voice said in an annoyed hiss. Don't say hi to us. We're just reptiles.
George, scolded a female voice, be polite.
"Hello, George," he added. "Hey, Martha."
I realized with a start that the voices belonged to the snakes on Hermes's caduceus. And that their names were George and Martha.
Did you bring us a rat? George asked.
George, stop it, said Martha. He's busy.
Too busy for rats? George said. That's just sad.
I was kind of starting to wish that there had been a background chorus of impertinent reptiles for every conversation I had ever had. Hermes didn't know how lucky he was.
"Um, Hermes," Percy said. "We need to talk with Zeus. It's important."
Something in Hermes's gaze turned to icy steel. "I am his messenger. May I take a message?"
Michael and I exchanged welp, we're dead looks.
Not if Percy had anything to say about it. "You guys, why don't you do a sweep of the city? Check the defenses. See who's left in Olympus. Meet Annabeth and me back here in thirty minutes."
Silena scowled. "But—"
"That's a good idea," said Annabeth. "Connor and Travis, you two lead."
The Stolls looked proud to be handed an important assignment in front of their dad. "We're on it!" one of them said. I really couldn't remember which was which. "Come on guys. Let's go."
Walking through Olympus was creepy.
A few minor gods were left, but they were all cowering inside their houses, ducking out of site when they saw us. We considered going to talk to them, but we would have been smited. (Smote? Smited?)
Finally, the Stolls put the Apollo and Athena cabins on checking the city's defense.
I actually had no idea how to check the defenses, so I settled for talking quietly to Kayla.
"Do we know when the monsters are gonna come?" Kayla whispered.
"I don't think so," I whispered back. "Hopefully not right now, because we're missing our MVPs."
"Oh," she said. She was silent for a little bit before adding, "They told me that I might have to work as a field medic. I don't know how to heal."
"You might have to," I agreed. I avoided the subject of why one of our archers would have to work as a field medic when some of us already had that job. "But don't worry. I'll—I'll see what I can do to help you." I tried to keep the break out of my voice.
Kayla looked down. When she looked up, her eyes were shimmering with tears. "What if you—what if you die?"
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Then one of the others will help you. Michael or Gracie or someone else." My voice cracked. Shit, I was a mess. I felt my teeth clamp down over my cheek, but I immediately loosened them before I tasted blood. I had to keep it together. For Kayla.
Her voice was so quiet I could barely hear it. "And what if all of us die?"
"Well," I said, "I guess the rest of the camp will have to learn how to heal, and learn it fast."
After that, we were silent.
Then the lights vanished.
We all looked up nervously.
"That's not good," Pollux muttered. "Or is it? I can't tell."
I froze. "Uh, guys . . . listen."
The others looked confused. "Listen to what?" Jake asked. "I can't hear anything." Then he froze too, realization dawning on his face. "I can't hear anything . . ."
"Like a dim bulb flickering to life," I muttered.
"Guys," Katie said in a measured voice, before Jake could hit me, "I—I think you better come look at this."
She was standing at the edge of the park, looking through one of the pairs of binoculars. We all crowded around, fighting for the other pairs. Cory managed to get one, and his face turned pale. "Fuck," he hissed.
I gently elbowed my brother out of the way and pressed my face to the binoculars.
Manhattan had fallen asleep.
Pedestrians were slumped over in the road or curled up on the sidewalks, snoring. Traffic had ceased, due to the fact that their rivers were fast asleep. Abandoned strollers were rolling down the street; dogs were curled up in gutters.
I stepped back from the binoculars, fighting the urge to throw up over the side of the mountain. New York never went silent. Ever. And now it had.
The Stolls looked likewise terrified. "Uh . . . we'll get Annabeth," one of them said. They sprinted off toward the throne room.
A moment later, all four of them ran back. "I don't . . . hear anything," said Annabeth.
All color drained from her and Percy's faces.
Percy shoved Michael away from the binoculars—I resisted the urge to throw an elbow into his ribs—and looked through. Michael sidled up next to me, rubbing his side and glaring resentfully at Percy.
"What did they do?" Percy hissed. "What did they do to my city?"
"Are they dead?" Silena asked, shell-shocked.
"Not dead," Percy grimly reassured her. "Morpheus has put the entire island of Manhattan to sleep. The invasion has started."
Silent Manhattan was even weirder than abandoned Olympus.
We were gathered around Argus's video shield, looking at the sleeping city. The Stolls were joking about raiding some candy bar, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't believe they really had an appetite for candy in the middle of a war.
"I don't get it," Pollux muttered, looking at a sleeping policeman. "Why didn't we fall asleep too? Why just the mortals?"
"This is a huge spell," Silena said. "The bigger the spell, the easier it is to resist. If you want to sleep millions of mortals, you've got to cast a very thin layer of magic. Sleeping demigods is much harder."
Percy stared at her. "When did you learn so much about magic?"
She blushed. "I don't spend all my time on hair and makeup."
"Percy," Annabeth called. "You'd better see this."
The image on the shield showed Long Island Sound. A dozen speedboats raced through the water, each full of demigods. The lead boat had a purple banner emblazoned with a scythe—Kronos's scythe.
Percy's expression hardened. "Scan the perimeter of the island. Quick."
Annabeth switched the scene to show a massive ferry crowded with dracaenae and hellhounds. A pack of seal-dog creatures were swimming in front of the ship—telkhines.
The scene switched again to show the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel. Giants, Cyclopes, dragons, and a World War II tank were all marching through traffic and into the tunnel.
"What's happening with the mortals outside Manhattan?" Percy asked. "Is the whole state asleep?"
Annabeth looked worried. "I don't think so, but it's strange. As far as I can tell from these pictures, Manhattan is totally asleep. Then there's a fifty-mile radius around the island where time is running really, really slow. The closer you get to Manhattan, the slower it is."
Another scene—cars on a highway, moving at a speed of one mile per hour.
"Kronos," Percy said. "He's slowing time.
"Hecate might be helping," said Katie. "Look how the cars are veering away from the Manhattan exits, like they're getting a subconscious message to turn back."
"Like flies in amber," Jake muttered.
Annabeth nodded. "We shouldn't expect any help coming in."
I bit down on my nails to keep from hyperventilating. So we were stuck in Manhattan, which was asleep, about to fight the immortal Titan lord and his army of hundreds of monsters, who were much bigger than us (both in size and quantity), and we couldn't even call for help because the entrances to the city were cursed. I almost wished I could trade places with one of the sleeping New Yorkers—they might die horrible deaths, but at least they wouldn't know about it.
"All right," Percy said. "We've got to hold Manhattan."
Silena looked at him as if he had said we had to swallow live earthworms covered in broken glass. "Um, Percy, Manhattan is huge.
"We are going to hold it," Percy insisted. "We have to."
"He's right," said Annabeth. "The gods of the wind should keep Kronos's forces away from Olympus by air, so he'll try a ground assault. We have to cut off the entrances to the island."
"They have boats," Michael pointed out.
"I'll take care of the boats," Percy said.
Michael scowled. "How?"
"Just leave it to me," Percy said. "We need to guard the bridges and tunnels. Let's assume they'll try a midtown or downtown assault, at least on they're first try. That would be the most direct way to the Empire State Building. Michael, take Apollo's cabin to the Williamsburg bridge. Katie, Demeter's cabin takes the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel. Grow thorn bushes and poison ivy in the tunnel. Do whatever you have to, but keep them out of there! Connor, take half of Hermes cabin and cover the Manhattan Bridge. Travis, you take the other half and cover the Brooklyn Bridge. And no stopping for looting or pillaging!"
"Awww," grumbled the Hermes cabin.
"Silena, take the Aphrodite crew to the Queens-Midtown Tunnel."
"Oh my gods!" Drew Tanaka said. "Fifth Avenue is so on our way! We could accessorize, and monsters, like, totally hate the smell of Givenchy."
"No delays!" Percy said. "Well . . . the perfume thing, if you think it'll work."
Several Aphrodite girls kissed him on the cheek in excitement. I decided/tried not to feel too jealous.
"All right, enough! The Holland Tunnel. Jake, take the Hephaestus cabin there. Use Greek fire, set traps. Whatever you've got."
He grinned. "Gladly. We've got a score to settle. For Beckendorf!"
Cabin Nine cheered. Jake caught my eye and grinned. I could see the worry behind his smile, but I don't think his cabin could.
I mouthed good luck. He nodded and mouthed you too.
"The 59th Street Bridge. Clarisse—" Percy snapped his mouth shut, remembering the blood-and-death-to-our-enemies Ares cabin wasn't here. We all observed a spontaneous moment of silence for our dignity and chances in battle.
"We'll take that," Annabeth put in. She looked at the rest of her cabin. "Malcolm, take the Athena cabin, activate plan twenty-three along the way, just like I showed you. Hold that position."
I had no idea what plan twenty-three was, but it was enough to make Malcolm gulp nervously. Nevertheless, he nodded. "You got it."
"I'll go with Percy," Annabeth said. "Then we'll join you, or we'll go wherever we're needed."
I called, "No detours, you two!" The entire group snickered. Really, I have no idea why I said it; it wasn't really funny, but by then my nerves were so shot that I would have laughed like a madman over why did the chicken cross the road?
"All right," Percy said. "Keep in touch with cell phones."
"We don't have cell phones," Silena pointed out.
Percy bent down and grabbed a random lady's cell phone. He handed it to Silena. "You do now. You all know Annabeth's number, right? If you need us, pick up a random phone and call us. Use it once, drop it, then borrow another one if you have to. That should make it harder for the monsters to zero in on us."
Everyone grinned; I didn't. I knew perfectly well that some people actually needed their phones, be it for work or communication or just because it was the only device they had, and didn't have the money to buy another. But they wouldn't have listened, had I pointed that out, so I kept it to myself.
Travis cleared his throat. "Uh, if we find a really nice phone—"
"No, you can't keep it," Percy said.
"Aw, man," Travis grumbled.
"Hold it, Percy," Jake said. "You forgot the Lincoln Tunnel.
"How about you leave that to us?" a girl's voice called from across the street.
The Hunters of Artemis had come to help us.
Thirty teenage girls crossed the street to join us, all wearing silvery camouflage and leather boots, with silver bows and quivers on their backs. Timber wolves loped around them; hunting falcons circled over their heads.
The girl who had spoken looked like she had just come back from a punk concert, with spiky black hair, a leather jacket, and skull earrings. I didn't recognize her at first—it had been years since I'd seen her—but her electric blue eyes branded her as a daughter of Zeus.
"Thalia!" Annabeth called.
The girl—Thalia—smiled. "The Hunters of Artemis, reporting for duty."
The Hunters were extremely courteous. They did not murder all the boys.
"Where have you been the last year?" Percy asked. "You've got like twice as many Hunters now!"
Thalia laughed. "Long, long story. I bet my adventures were more dangerous then yours, Jackson."
"Complete lie."
Thalia grinned. "We'll see. After this is over, you, Annabeth, and me: cheeseburgers and fries at that hotel on west 57th."
After this is over . . . I liked the sound of that.
"Le Parker Meridien," Percy promised. "You're on. And, Thalia, thanks."
She shrugged. "Those monsters won't know what hit them. Hunters, move out!"
She slapped a silver (what was it with Hunters of Artemis and silver? It's not like the Apollo cabin was obsessed with gold stuff) bracelet on her wrist. It immediately expanded into a shield. Terror immediately filled me—the shield was molded with the gruesome visage of Medusa. It wasn't real, but it was horrible enough that my legs turned to Jell-o and my heart began pounding like a running rabbit.
Judging by everyone's faces, they felt the same. I looked down and realized that we had all backed up several steps.
Then the Hunters took off down the avenue, their wolves bounding along after them like dogs whose owners had taken them out for a run.
"Thank the gods," Annabeth said. "But if we don't blockade the rivers from those boats, guarding the bridges and tunnels will be pointless."
Well, shit. I really, really, really, hoped Percy knew what he was doing, or we would all be doomed thanks to a dozen speedboats. Speedboats, of all the things. It was humiliating.
Then again, so was the work I was about to do.
"You're right," Percy said to Annabeth. Then he turned to face us. "You're the greatest heroes of this millennium. It doesn't matter how many monsters come at you. Fight bravely, and we will win." He raised his sword and shouted, "FOR OLYMPUS!"
We raised our weapons and echoed him. Or seemed to.
I don't think anyone heard the things most of our cabin really said, including me, but it was okay. I knew what I said. And what I thought.
Not for Olympus.
For Harper.
For Lee.
For Phoenix.
For Ayesha, Kingsley, and Maddox.
For Ean and Sami.
For Claire.
For all the others. I'm sorry I didn't know your names.
We take control of our own lives . . .
Or we burn them all to the ground.
Well, I THOUGHT I was gonna get to the action in this chapter, buuut it ended up being way longer than I thought, so I'm just gonna have to keep you in suspense.
