The Titan's Curse

I didn’t feel like arguing, though it made me mad. How could she still have any feelings for that creep? How could she possibly make excuses for him? He deserved that fall. He deserved . . . okay, I’ll say it. He deserved to die. Unlike Bianca. Unlike Zoë. Luke couldn’t be alive. It wouldn’t be fair.

“There it is.” Thalia’s voice; she’d woken up. She was pointing toward Manhattan, which was quickly zooming into view. “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” I asked.

Then I looked where she was pointing. High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light, a floating mountain ablaze with torches and braziers, white marble palaces gleaming in the early morning air.

“The winter solstice,” Thalia said. “The Council of the Gods.”

NINETEEN

THE GODS VOTE HOW TO KILL US

Flying was bad enough for a son of Poseidon, but flying straight up to Zeus’s palace, with thunder and lightning swirling around it, was even worse.

We circled over midtown Manhattan, making one complete orbit around Mount Olympus. I’d only been there once before, traveling by elevator up to the secret six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building. This time, if it was possible, Olympus amazed me even more.

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus. The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn’t seem to exist here. I caught the scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter things I couldn’t name. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

Our pegasi set us down in the outer courtyard, in front of huge silver gates. Before I could even think to knock, the gates opened by themselves.

Good luck, boss, Blackjack said.

“Yeah.” I didn’t know why, but I had a sense of doom. I’d never seen all the gods together. I knew any one of them could blast me to dust, and a few of them would like to.

Hey, if ya don’t come back, can I have your cabin for my stable?

I looked at the pegasus.

Just a thought, he said. Sorry.

Blackjack and his friends flew off, leaving Thalia, A

And then, side by side, we walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall, and I’m telling you, if you’ve ever had a dozen all-powerful super-huge beings turn their eyes on you at once . . . Well, suddenly, facing monsters seemed like a picnic.

“Welcome, heroes,” Artemis said.

“Mooo!”

That’s when I noticed Bessie and Grover.

A sphere of water was hovering in the center of the room, next to the hearth fire. Bessie was swimming happily around, swishing his serpent tail and poking his head out the sides and bottom of the sphere. He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of swimming in a magic bubble. Grover was kneeling at Zeus’s throne, as if he’d just been giving a report, but when he saw us, he cried, “You made it!”

He started to run toward me, then remembered he was turning his back on Zeus, and looked for permission.

“Go on,” Zeus said. But he wasn’t really paying attention to Grover. The lord of the sky was staring intently at Thalia.

Grover trotted over. None of the gods spoke. Every clop of Grover’s hooves echoed on the marble floor. Bessie splashed in his bubble of water. The hearth fire crackled.

I looked nervously at my father, Poseidon. He was dressed similar to the last time I’d seen him: beach shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and sandals. He had a weathered, sunta

Grover gave A

“Do what?” I asked.

“Heroes,” Artemis called.

The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn-haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward us, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

“The Council has been informed of your deeds,” Artemis told us. “They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas’s attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act.”

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the gods, as if they weren’t all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

“At my Lord Zeus’s command,” Artemis said, “my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans’ cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea. And as for you, my heroes . . .”

She turned to face the other immortals. “These half-bloods have done Olympus a great service. Would any here deny that?”

She looked around at the assembled gods, meeting their faces individually. Zeus in his dark pin-striped suit, his black beard neatly trimmed, and his eyes sparking with energy. Next to him sat a beautiful woman with silver hair braided over one shoulder and a dress that shimmered colors like peacock feathers. The Lady Hera.

On Zeus’s right, my father Poseidon. Next to him, a huge lump of a man with a leg in a steel brace, a misshapen head, and a wild brown beard, fire flickering through his whiskers. The Lord of the Forges, Hephaestus.

Hermes winked at me. He was wearing a business suit today, checking messages on his caduceus mobile phone. Apollo leaned back in his golden throne with his shades on. He had iPod headphones on, so I wasn’t sure he was even listening, but he gave me a thumbs-up. Dionysus looked bored, twirling a grape vine between his fingers. And Ares, well, he sat on his chrome-and-leather throne, glowering at me while he sharpened a knife.

On the ladies’ side of the throne room, a dark-haired goddess in green robes sat next to Hera on a throne woven of apple-tree branches. Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest. Next to her sat a beautiful gray-eyed woman in an elegant white dress. She could only be A

All the Olympians in one place. So much power in this room it was a miracle the whole palace didn’t blow apart.

“I gotta say”—Apollo broke the silence—“these kids did okay.” He cleared his throat and began to recite: “Heroes win laurels—”

“Um, yes, first class,” Hermes interrupted, like he was anxious to avoid Apollo’s poetry. “All in favor of not disintegrating them?”

A few tentative hands went up—Demeter, Aphrodite.

“Wait just a minute,” Ares growled. He pointed at Thalia and me. “These two are dangerous. It’d be much safer, while we’ve got them here—”