The Titan's Curse (25 page)

“Now for the Ophiotaurus,” Artemis said.

“This boy is still dangerous,” Dionysus warned. “The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—”

“No.” I looked around at all the gods. “Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here in Olympus. But you have to protect him.”

“And why should we trust you?” rumbled Hephaestus.

“I'm only fourteen,” I said. “If this prophecy is about me, that's two more years.”

“Two years for Kronos to deceive you,” Athena said. “Much can change in two years, my young hero.”

“Mother!” Annabeth said, exasperated.

“It is only the truth, child. It is bad strategy to keep the animal alive. Or the boy.”

My father stood. “I will not have a sea creature destroyed, if I can help it. And I
can
help it.”

He held out his hand, and a trident appeared in it: a twenty foot long bronze shaft with three spear tips that shimmered with blue, watery light. “I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus.”

“You won't take it under the sea!” Zeus stood suddenly. “I won't have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession.”

“Brother, please,” Poseidon sighed.

Zeus's lightning bolt appeared in his hand, a shaft of electricity that filled the whole room with the smell of ozone.

“Fine,” Poseidon said. “I will build an aquarium for the creature here. Hephaestus can help me. The creature will be safe. We shall protect it with all our powers. The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor.”

Zeus thought about this. “All in favor?”

To my surprise, a lot of hands went up. Dionysus abstained. So did Ares and Athena. But everybody else . . .

“We have a majority,” Zeus decreed. “And so, since we will not be destroying these heroes . . . I imagine we should honor them. Let the triumph celebration begin!”

There are parties, and then there are huge, major, blowout parties. And then there are Olympian parties. If you ever get a choice, go for the Olympian.

The Nine Muses cranked up the tunes, and I realized the music was whatever you wanted it to be: the gods could listen to classical and the younger demigods heard hip-hop or whatever, and it was all the same sound track. No arguments. No fights to change the radio station. Just requests to crank it up.

Dionysus went around growing refreshment stands out of the ground, and a beautiful woman walked with him arm in arm—his wife, Ariadne. Dionysus looked happy for the first time. Nectar and ambrosia overflowed from golden fountains, and platters of mortal snack food crowded the banquet tables. Golden goblets filled with whatever drink you wanted. Grover trotted around with a full plate of tin cans and enchiladas, and his goblet was full of double-espresso latte, which he kept muttering over like an incantation: “Pan! Pan!”

Gods kept coming over to congratulate me. Thankfully, they had reduced themselves to human size, so they didn't accidentally trample partygoers under their feet. Hermes started chatting with me, and he was so cheerful I hated to tell him what had happened to his least-favorite son, Luke, but before I could even get up the courage, Hermes got a call on his caduceus and walked away.

Apollo told me I could drive his sun chariot any time, and if I ever wanted archery lessons—

“Thanks,” I told him. “But seriously, I'm no good at archery.”

“Ah, nonsense,” he said. “Target practice from the chariot as we fly over the U.S.? Best fun there is!”

I made some excuses and wove through the crowds that were dancing in the palace courtyards. I was looking for Annabeth. Last I saw her, she'd been dancing with some minor godling.

Then a man's voice behind me said, “You won't let me down, I hope.”

I turned and found Poseidon smiling at me.

“Dad . . . hi.”

“Hello, Percy. You've done well.”

His praise made me uneasy. I mean, it felt good, but I knew just how much he'd put himself on the line, vouching for me. It would've been a lot easier to let the others disintegrate me.

“I won't let you down,” I promised.

He nodded. I had trouble reading gods' emotions, but I wondered if he had some doubts.

“Your friend Luke—”

“He's not my friend,” I blurted out. Then I realized it was probably rude to interrupt. “Sorry.”

“Your
former
friend Luke,” Poseidon corrected. “He once promised things like that. He was Hermes's pride and joy. Just bear that in mind, Percy. Even the bravest can fall.”

“Luke fell pretty hard,” I agreed. “He's dead.”

Poseidon shook his head. “No, Percy. He is not.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“I believe Annabeth told you this. Luke still lives. I have seen it. His boat sails from San Francisco with the remains of Kronos even now. He will retreat and regroup before assaulting you again. I will do my best to destroy his boat with storms, but he is making alliances with my enemies, the older spirits of the ocean. They will fight to protect him.”

“How can he be alive?” I said. “That fall should've killed him!”

Poseidon looked troubled. “I don't know, Percy, but beware of him. He is more dangerous than ever. And the golden coffin is still with him, still growing in strength.”

“What about Atlas?” I said. “What's to prevent him from escaping again? Couldn't he just force some giant or something to take the sky for him?”

My father snorted in derision. “If it were so easy, he would have escaped long ago. No, my son. The curse of the sky can only be forced upon a Titan, one of the children of Gaia and Ouranous. Anyone else must
choose
to take the burden of their own free will. Only a hero, someone with strength, a true heart, and great courage, would do such a thing. No one in Kronos's army would dare try to bear that weight, even upon pain of death.”

“Luke did it,” I said. “He let Atlas go. Then he tricked Annabeth into saving him and used her to convince Artemis to take the sky.”

“Yes,” Poseidon said. “Luke is . . . an interesting case.”

I think he wanted to say more, but just then, Bessie started mooing from across the courtyard. Some demigods were playing with his water sphere, joyously pushing it back and forth over the top of the crowd.

“I'd better take care of that,” Poseidon grumbled. “We can't have the Ophiotaurus tossed around like a beach ball. Be good, my son. We may not speak again for some time.”

And just like that he was gone.

I was about to keep searching the crowd when another voice spoke. “Your father takes a great risk, you know.”

I found myself face-to-face with a gray-eyed woman who looked so much like Annabeth I almost called her that.

“Athena.” I tried not to sound resentful, after the way she'd written me off in the council, but I guess I didn't hide it very well.

She smiled dryly. “Do not judge me too harshly, half-blood. Wise counsel is not always popular, but I spoke the truth. You are dangerous.”

“You never take risks?”

She nodded. “I concede the point. You may perhaps be useful. And yet . . . your fatal flaw may destroy us as well as yourself.”

My heart crept into my throat. A year ago, Annabeth and I had had a talk about fatal flaws. Every hero had one. Hers, she said, was pride. She believed she could do anything . . . like holding up the world, for instance. Or saving Luke. But I didn't really know what mine was.

Athena looked almost sorry for me. “Kronos knows your flaw, even if you do not. He knows how to study his enemies. Think, Percy. How has he manipulated you? First, your mother was taken from you. Then your best friend, Grover. Now my daughter, Annabeth.” She paused, disapproving. “In each case, your loved ones have been used to lure you into Kronos's traps. Your fatal flaw is personal loyalty, Percy. You do not know when it is time to cut your losses. To save a friend, you would sacrifice the world. In a hero of the prophecy, that is very, very dangerous.”

I balled my fists. “That's not a flaw. Just because I want to help my friends—”

“The most dangerous flaws are those which are good in moderation,” she said. “Evil is easy to fight. Lack of wisdom . . . that is very hard indeed.”

I wanted to argue, but I found I couldn't. Athena was pretty darn smart.

“I hope the Council's decisions prove wise,” Athena said. “But I will be watching, Percy Jackson. I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter. I do not think it wise for either of you. And should you begin to waver in your loyalties . . .”

She fixed me with her cold gray stare, and I realized what a terrible enemy Athena would make, ten times worse than Ares or Dionysus or maybe even my father. Athena would never give up. She would never do something rash or stupid just because she hated you, and if she made a plan to destroy you, it would not fail.

“Percy!” Annabeth said, running through the crowd. She stopped short when she saw who I was talking to. “Oh . . . Mom.”

“I will leave you,” Athena said. “For now.”

She turned and strode through the crowds, which parted before her as if she were carrying Aegis.

“Was she giving you a hard time?” Annabeth asked.

“No,” I said. “It's . . . fine.”

She studied me with concern. She touched the new streak of gray in my hair that matched hers exactly— our painful souvenir from holding Atlas's burden. There was a lot I'd wanted to say to Annabeth, but Athena had taken the confidence out of me. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.

I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter.

“So,” Annabeth said. “What did you want to tell me earlier?”

The music was playing. People were dancing in the streets. I said, “I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And . . . I think I owe you a dance.”

She smiled slowly. “All right, Seaweed Brain.”

So I took her hand, and I don't know what everybody else heard, but to me it sounded like a slow dance: a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too.

TWENTY

Before I left Olympus, I decided to make a few calls. It wasn't easy, but I finally found a quiet fountain in a corner garden and sent an Iris-message to my brother, Tyson, under the sea. I told him about our adventures, and Bessie—he wanted to hear every detail about the cute baby cow serpent—and I assured him that Annabeth was safe. Finally I got around to explaining how the shield he'd made me last summer had been damaged in the manticore attack.

“Yay!” Tyson said. “That means it was good! It saved your life!”

“It sure did, big guy,” I said. “But now it's ruined.”

“Not ruined!” Tyson promised. “I will visit and fix it next summer.”

The idea picked me up instantly. I guess I hadn't realized how much I missed having Tyson around.

“Seriously?” I asked. “They'll let you take time off ?”

“Yes! I have made two thousand seven hundred and forty-one magic swords,” Tyson said proudly, showing me the newest blade. “The boss says ‘good work'! He will let me take the whole summer off. I will visit camp!”

We talked for a while about war preparations and our dad's fight with the old sea gods, and all the cool things we could do together next summer, but then Tyson's boss started yelling at him and he had to get back to work.

I dug out my last golden drachma and made one more Iris-message.

“Sally Jackson,” I said. “Upper East Side, Manhattan.”

The mist shimmered, and there was my mom at our kitchen table, laughing and holding hands with her friend Mr. Blowfish.

I felt so embarrassed, I was about to wave my hand through the mist and cut the connection, but before I could, my mom saw me.

Her eyes got wide. She let go of Mr. Blowfish's hand real quick. “Oh, Paul! You know what? I left my writing journal in the living room. Would you mind getting it for me?”

“Sure, Sally. No problem.”

He left the room, and instantly my mom leaned toward the Iris-message. “Percy! Are you all right?”

“I'm, uh, fine. How's that writing seminar going?”

She pursed her lips. “It's fine. But that's not important. Tell me what's happened!”

I filled her in as quickly as I could. She sighed with relief when she heard that Annabeth was safe.

“I knew you could do it!” she said. “I'm so proud.”

“Yeah, well, I'd better let you get back to your homework.”

“Percy, I . . . Paul and I—”

“Mom, are you happy?”

The question seemed to take her by surprise. She thought for a moment. “Yes. I really am, Percy. Being around him makes me happy.”

“Then it's cool. Seriously. Don't worry about me.”

The funny thing was, I meant it. Considering the quest I'd just had, maybe I should have been worried for my mom. I'd seen just how mean people could be to each other, like Hercules was to Zoë Nightshade, like Luke was to Thalia. I'd met Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, in person, and her powers had scared me worse than Ares. But seeing my mother laughing and smiling, after all the years she'd suffered with my nasty ex-stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, I couldn't help feeling happy for her.

“You promise not to call him Mr. Blowfish?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Well, maybe not to his face, anyway.”

“Sally?” Mr. Blofis called from our living room. “You need the green binder or the red one?”

“I'd better go,” she told me. “See you for Christmas?”

“Are you putting blue candy in my stocking?”

She smiled. “If you're not too old for that.”

“I'm never too old for candy.”

“I'll see you then.”

She waved her hand across the mist. Her image disappeared, and I thought to myself that Thalia had been right, so many days ago at Westover Hall: my mom really was pretty cool.

Compared to Mount Olympus, Manhattan was quiet. Friday before Christmas, but it was early in the morning, and hardly anyone was on Fifth Avenue. Argus, the many-eyed security chief, picked up Annabeth, Grover, and me at the Empire State Building and ferried us back to camp through a light snowstorm. The Long Island Expressway was almost deserted.

As we trudged back up Half-Blood Hill to the pine tree where the Golden Fleece glittered, I half expected to see Thalia there, waiting for us. But she wasn't. She was long gone with Artemis and the rest of the Hunters, off on their next adventure.

Chiron greeted us at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about our strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within an hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.

Annabeth and I sat with Chiron and some of the other senior campers—Beckendorf, Silena Beauregard, and the Stoll brothers. Even Clarisse from the Ares cabin was there, back from her secretive scouting mission. I knew she must've had a difficult quest, because she didn't even try to pulverize me. She had a new scar on her chin, and her dirty blond hair had been cut short and ragged, like someone had attacked it with a pair of safety scissors.

“I got news,” she mumbled uneasily. “
Bad
news.”

“I'll fill you in later,” Chiron said with forced cheerfulness. “The important thing is you have prevailed. And you saved Annabeth!”

Annabeth smiled at me gratefully, which made me look away.

For some strange reason, I found myself thinking about Hoover Dam, and the odd mortal girl I'd run into there, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. I didn't know why, but her annoying comments kept coming back to me.
Do you always kill people when they blow their nose?
I was only alive because so many people had helped me, even a random mortal girl like that. I'd never even explained to her who I was.

“Luke is alive,” I said. “Annabeth was right.”

Annabeth sat up. “How do you know?”

I tried not to feel annoyed by her interest. I told her what my dad had said about the
Princess Andromeda
.

“Well.” Annabeth shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “If the final battle does come when Percy is sixteen, at least we have two more years to figure something out.”

I had a feeling that when she said “figure something out,” she meant “get Luke to change his ways,” which annoyed me even more.

Chiron's expression was gloomy. Sitting by the fire in his wheelchair, he looked really old. I mean . . . he
was
really old, but he usually didn't look it.

“Two years may seem like a long time,” he said. “But it is the blink of an eye. I still hope you are not the child of the prophecy, Percy. But if you are, then the second Titan war is almost upon us. Kronos's first strike will be here.”

“How do you know?” I asked. “Why would he care about camp?”

“Because the gods use heroes as their tools,” Chiron said simply. “Destroy the tools, and the gods will be crippled. Luke's forces will come here. Mortal, demigod, monstrous . . . We must be prepared. Clarisse's news may give us a clue as to how they will attack, but—”

There was a knock on the door, and Nico di Angelo came huffing into the parlor, his cheeks bright red from the cold.

He was smiling, but he looked around anxiously. “Hey! Where's . . . where's my sister?”

Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn't believe nobody had told him yet. And then I realized why. They'd been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person.

That was the last thing I wanted to do. But I owed it to Bianca.

“Hey, Nico.” I got up from my comfortable chair. “Let's take a walk, okay? We need to talk.”

He took the news in silence, which somehow made it worse. I kept talking, trying to explain how it had happened, how Bianca had sacrificed herself to save the quest. But I felt like I was only making things worse.

“She wanted you to have this.” I brought out the little god figurine Bianca had found in the junkyard. Nico held it in his palm and stared at it.

We were standing at the dining pavilion, just where we'd last spoken before I went on the quest. The wind was bitter cold, even with the camp's magical weather protection. Snow fell lightly against the marble steps. I figured outside the camp borders, there must be a blizzard happening.

“You promised you would protect her,” Nico said.

He might as well have stabbed me with a rusty dagger.

It would've hurt less than reminding me of my promise.

“Nico,” I said. “I tried. But Bianca gave herself up to save the rest of us. I told her not to. But she—”

“You promised!”

He glared at me, his eyes rimmed with red. He closed his small fist around the god statue.

“I shouldn't have trusted you.” His voice broke. “You lied to me. My nightmares were right!”

“Wait. What nightmares?”

He flung the god statue to the ground. It clattered across the icy marble. “I hate you!”

“She might be alive,” I said desperately. “I don't know for sure—”

“She's dead.” He closed his eyes. His whole body trembled with rage. “I should've known it earlier. She's in the Fields of Asphodel, standing before the judges right now, being evaluated. I can feel it.”

“What do you mean, you can feel it?”

Before he could answer, I heard a new sound behind me. A hissing, clattering noise I recognized all too well.

I drew my sword and Nico gasped. I whirled and found myself facing four skeleton warriors. They grinned fleshless grins and advanced with swords drawn. I wasn't sure how they'd made it inside the camp, but it didn't matter. I'd never get help in time.

“You're trying to kill me!” Nico screamed. “You brought these . . . these things?”

“No! I mean, yes, they followed me, but
no
! Nico, run. They can't be destroyed.”

“I don't trust you!”

The first skeleton charged. I knocked aside its blade, but the other three kept coming. I sliced one in half, but immediately it began to knit back together. I knocked another's head off but it just kept fighting.

“Run, Nico!” I yelled. “Get help!”

“No!” He pressed his hands to his ears.

I couldn't fight four at once, not if they wouldn't die. I slashed, whirled, blocked, jabbed, but they just kept advancing. It was only a matter of seconds before the zombies overpowered me.

“No!” Nico shouted louder.
“Go away!”

The ground rumbled beneath me. The skeletons froze. I rolled out of the way just as a crack opened at the feet of the four warriors. The ground ripped apart like a snapping mouth. Flames erupted from the fissure, and the earth swallowed the skeletons in one loud
CRUNCH!

Silence.

In the place where the skeletons had stood, a twenty-foot-long scar wove across the marble floor of the pavilion. Otherwise there was no sign of the warriors.

Awestruck, I looked to Nico. “How did you—”

“Go away!” he yelled. “I hate you! I wish you were dead!”

The ground didn't swallow
me
up, but Nico ran down the steps, heading toward the woods. I started to follow but slipped and fell to the icy steps. When I got up, I noticed what I'd slipped on.

I picked up the god statue Bianca had retrieved from the junkyard for Nico.
The only statue he didn't have,
she'd said. A last gift from his sister.

I stared at it with dread, because now I understood why the face looked familiar. I'd seen it before.

It was a statue of Hades, Lord of the Dead.

Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.

“We have to tell Chiron,” Annabeth said, out of breath.

“No,” I said.

She and Grover both stared at me.

“Um,” Grover said nervously, “what do you mean . . . no?”

I was still trying to figure out why I'd said that, but the words spilled out of me. “We can't let anyone know. I don't think anyone realizes that Nico is a—”

“A son of Hades,” Annabeth said. “Percy, do you have
any idea
how serious this is? Even Hades broke the oath! This is horrible!”

“I don't think so,” I said. “I don't think Hades broke the oath.”

“What?”

“He's their dad,” I said, “but Bianca and Nico have been out of commission for a long time, since even before World War II.”

“The Lotus Casino!” Grover said, and he told Annabeth about the conversations we'd had with Bianca on the quest. “She and Nico were stuck there for decades. They were born before the oath was made.”

I nodded.

“But how did they get out?” Annabeth protested.

“I don't know,” I admitted. “Bianca said a lawyer came and got them and drove them to Westover Hall. I don't know who that could've been, or why. Maybe it's part of this Great Stirring thing. I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—”