The Blood of Olympus

  ‘Help me,’ Jason urged. ‘Together, a goddess 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 never 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 action figure.’

  ‘No!’ Polybotes wailed. ‘Not merchandising 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!’

  ‘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 pedestal. ‘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.

  XXVIII

  Jason

  ‘POISON IS A NASTY HABIT.’ Kymopoleia waved her hand and the murky clouds dissipated. ‘Secondhand poison can kill a person, 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.’

  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 process 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 forgotten at either camp. Maybe they’ll get temples, or cabins, or at least shrines –’

  ‘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, Kymopoleia … 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.

  ‘Yeah,’ Percy said. ‘And, really, your husband 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. 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 girlfriend 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.’

  ‘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 definitely 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 defeating a goddess who can’t be defeated?’

  Kymopoleia tilted her head. ‘Oh, but you know the answer. You are a child of the sky, 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 expression 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 surface. He promises he will not bother you a third time.’

  ‘A third time?’

  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 become 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.

  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 s
aved my life.’

  ‘Hey, that’s what we do for our friends.’

  ‘But, uh, the Jupiter guy saving the Poseidon 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 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 … honestly, 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 …’

  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.

  ‘Let’s get to Delos first,’ he said. ‘Apollo and Artemis might have some advice.’

  Percy nodded, though he didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. ‘Why did Kymopoleia 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 sacrifices 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 before, but I like the idea of going back and forth between the two camps – assuming, 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 regret 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 … better different. Does your wound still hurt?’

  ‘My wound …’ Jason had been so busy with the giant and the goddess, he’d forgotten about the sword wound in his gut, even 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 completely 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.

  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.’

  XXIX

  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. 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 miscellaneous camping supplies for Coach Hedge’s useless but impressively complicated 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 DEL ENCANTORICO shirt, especially since Coach Hedge had a matching one. 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 collection 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 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 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 we
re 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 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 recruiting 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 kidnapping Reyna, he’d torn apart the courtyard in rage. He didn’t want the Hunters stealing another 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 incident on the Calle San Jose – those ghosts on the balcony, all staring at her, whispering accusations – Reyna shut him down.

  Nico knew something about ghosts. Letting them get inside your head was dangerous. 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 Revolution. Most of the Colonial leaders were 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 Americans got overtaken here by British cavalry. The Colonial troops tried to surrender, but the British were out for blood. They massacred 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 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 because you have some sort of connection to the ghosts. Like what happened in San Juan?’

  For a count of ten she said nothing, turning the plastic bouquet in her hand. ‘I don’t want to talk about San Juan.’

  ‘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.