The Last Olympian

Everyone gri

Travis cleared his throat. "Uh, if we find a really nice phone—"

"No, you can't keep it," I said.

"Aw, man."

"Hold it, Percy," Jake Mason said. "You forgot the Lincoln Tu

I bit back a curse. He was right. A Sherman tank and a hundred monsters were marching through that tu

Then a girl's voice called from across the street: "How about you leave that to us?"

I'd never been happier to hear anyone in my life. A band of thirty adolescent girls crossed Fifth Avenue. They wore white shirts, silvery camouflage pants, and combat boots. They all had swords at their sides, quivers on their backs, and bows at the ready. A pack of white timber wolves milled around their feet, and many of the girls had hunting falcons on their arms.

The girl in the lead had spiky black hair and a black leather jacket. She wore a silver circlet on her head like a princess's tiara, which didn't match her skull earrings or her Death to Barbie T-shirt showing a little Barbie doll with an arrow through its head.

"Thalia!" A

The daughter of Zeus gri

There were hugs and greetings all around . . . or at least Thalia was friendly. The other Hunters didn't like being around campers, especially boys, but they didn't shoot any of us, which for them was a pretty warm welcome.

"Where have you been the last year?" I asked Thalia. "You've got like twice as many Hunters now!"

She laughed. "Long, long story. I bet my adventures were more dangerous than yours, Jackson."

"Complete lie," I said.

"We'll see," she promised. "After this is over, you, A

"Le Parker Meridien," I said. "You're on. And Thalia, thanks."

She shrugged. "Those monsters won't know what hit them. Hunters, move out!"

She slapped her silver bracelet, and the shield Aegis spiraled into full form. The golden head of Medusa molded in the center was so horrible, the campers all backed away. The Hunters took off down the avenue, followed by their wolves and falcons, and I had a feeling the Lincoln Tu

"Thank the gods," A

"You're right," I said.

I looked at the campers, all of them grim and determined. I tried not to feel like this was the last time I'd ever see them all together.

"You're the greatest heroes of this mille

They shouted in response, and our forty voices echoed off the buildings of Midtown. For a moment it sounded brave, but it died quickly in the silence of ten million sleeping New Yorkers.

A

Finally we found an unconscious courier leaning against a brick wall, still straddling his red Vespa. We dragged him off the scooter and laid him on the sidewalk.

"Sorry, dude," I said. With any luck, I'd be able to bring his scooter back. If I didn't, it would hardly matter, because the city would be destroyed.

I drove with A

Our progress was slow. Every so often we'd come across pedestrians who'd fallen asleep right in front of a car, and we'd move them just to be safe. Once we stopped to extinguish a pretzel vendor's cart that had caught on fire. A few minutes later we had to rescue a baby carriage that was rolling aimlessly down the street. It turned out there was no baby in it—just somebody's sleeping poodle. Go figure. We parked it safely in a doorway and kept riding.

We were passing Madison Square Park when A

I stopped in the middle of East 23rd. A

The dude was sitting in a chair with his legs crossed. He wore an old-fashioned suit—Abraham Lincoln style—with a bow tie and long coattails and stuff. A bunch of bronze books were piled under his chair. He held a writing quill in one hand and a big metal sheet of parchment in the other.

"Why do we care about . . ." I squinted at the name on the pedestal. "William H. Steward?"

"Seward," A

She climbed on a park bench and examined the base of the statue.

"Don't tell me he's an automaton," I said.

A

"To attack Olympus or defend it?"

A

"Uh-huh," I said. We'd had our share of bad experiences with them. "You're seriously thinking about activating it?"

"I have Daedalus's notes," she said. "I think I can . . . Ah, here we go."

She pressed the tip of Seward's boot, and the statue stood up, its quill and paper ready.

"What's he going to do?" I muttered. "Take a memo?"

"Shh," A

"Bill," I suggested.

"Bill . . . Oh, shut up," A

A

Seward jumped off his pedestal. He hit the ground so hard his shoes cracked the sidewalk. Then he went clanking off toward the east.

"He's probably going to wake up Confucius," A

"What?" I said.

"Another statue, on Division. The point is, they'll keep waking each other up until they're all activated."

"And then?"

"Hopefully, they defend Manhattan."

"Do they know that we're not the enemy?"

"I think so."

"That's reassuring." I thought about all the bronze statues in the parks, plazas, and buildings of New York. There had to be hundreds, maybe thousands.

Then a ball of green light exploded in the evening sky. Greek fire, somewhere over the East River.

"We have to hurry," I said. And we ran for the Vespa.

We parked outside Battery Park, at the lower tip of Manhattan where the Hudson and East Rivers came together and emptied into the bay.

"Wait here," I told A

"Percy, you shouldn't go alone."

"Well, unless you can breathe underwater . . ."

She sighed. "You are so a

"Like when I'm right? Trust me, I'll be fine. I've got the curse of Achilles now. I'll all invincible and stuff."