The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus 5) - Page 17

It would’ve been nice to have Calypso’s help weaving the Celestial bronze filaments. She was an ace at weaving. Or Annabeth: she was no slouch. But Leo had done his best, rewiring the sphere to carry out two completely different functions.

‘Behold!’ Leo clicked the final dial. The sphere opened. One side elongated into a gun handle. The other side unfolded into a miniature radar dish made of Celestial bronze mirrors.

Nike frowned. ‘What is that supposed to be?’

‘An Archimedes death ray!’ Leo said. ‘I finally perfected it. Now give me all the prizes.’

‘Those things don’t work!’ Nike yelled. ‘They proved it on television! Besides, I’m an immortal goddess. You can’t destroy me!’

‘Watch closely,’ Leo said. ‘Are you watching?’

Nike could’ve zapped him into a grease spot or speared him like a cheese wedge, but her curiosity got the best of her. She stared straight into the dish as Leo flipped the switch. Leo knew to look away. Even so, the blazing beam of light left him seeing spots.

‘Gah!’ The goddess staggered. She dropped her spear and clutched at her eyes. ‘I’m blind! I’m blind!’

Leo hit another button on his death ray. It collapsed back into a sphere and began to hum. Leo counted silently to three, then tossed the sphere at the goddess’s feet.

FOOM! Metal filaments shot upward, wrapping Nike in a bronze net. She wailed, falling sideways as the net constricted, forcing her two forms – Greek and Roman – into a quivering, out-of-focus whole.

‘Trickery!’ Her doubled voices buzzed like muffled alarm clocks. ‘Your death ray did not even kill me!’

‘I don’t need to kill you,’ Leo said. ‘I vanquished you just fine.’

‘I will simply change form!’ she cried. ‘I will rip apart your silly net! I will destroy you!’

‘Yeah, see, you can’t.’ Leo hoped he was right. ‘That’s high-quality Celestial bronze netting, and I’m a son of Hephaestus. He’s kind of an expert on catching goddesses in nets.’

‘No. Nooooo!’

Leo left her thrashing and cursing, and went to check on his friends. Percy looked all right, just sore and bruised. Frank had propped Hazel up and was feeding her ambrosia. The cut on her leg had stopped bleeding, though her jeans were pretty much ruined.

‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Just too much magic.’

‘You were awesome, Levesque.’ Leo did his best Hazel imitation: ‘Popcorn! Our fatal weakness!’

She smiled wanly. Together the four of them walked over to Nike, who was still writhing and flapping her wings in the net like a golden chicken.

‘What do we do with her?’ Percy asked.

‘Take her aboard the Argo II,’ Leo said. ‘Chuck her in one of the horse stalls.’

Hazel’s eyes widened. ‘You’re going to keep the goddess of victory in the stable?’

‘Why not? Once we sort things out between Greeks and Romans, the gods should go back to their normal selves. Then we can free her and she can … you know … grant us victory.’

‘Grant you victory?’ the goddess cried. ‘Never! You will suffer for this outrage! Your blood shall be spilled! One of you here – one of you four – is fated to die battling Gaia!’

Leo’s intestines tied themselves into a slipknot. ‘How do you know that?’

‘I can foresee victories!’ Nike yelled. ‘You will have no success without death! Release me and fight each other! It is better you die here than face what is to come!’

Hazel stuck the point of her spatha under Nike’s chin. ‘Explain.’ Her voice was harder than Leo had ever heard. ‘Which of us will die? How do we stop it?’

‘Ah, child of Pluto! Your magic helped you cheat in this contest, but you cannot cheat destiny. One of you will die. One of you must die!’

‘No,’ Hazel insisted. ‘There’s another way. There is always another path.’

‘Hecate taught you this?’ Nike laughed. ‘You would hope for the physician’s cure, perhaps? But that is impossible. Too much stands in your way: the poison of Pylos, the chained god’s heartbeat in Sparta, the curse of Delos! No, you cannot cheat death.’

Frank knelt. He gathered up the net under Nike’s chin and raised her face to his. ‘What are you talking about? How do we find this cure?’

‘I will not help you,’ Nike growled. ‘I will curse you with my power, net or no!’

She began to mutter in Ancient Greek.

Frank looked up, scowling. ‘Can she really cast magic through this net?’

‘Heck if I know,’ Leo said.

Frank let go of the goddess. He took off one of his shoes, peeled off his sock and stuffed it in the goddess’s mouth.

‘Dude,’ Percy said, ‘that is disgusting.’

‘Mpppphhh!’ Nike complained. ‘Mppppphhh!’

‘Leo,’ Frank said grimly, ‘you got duct tape?’

‘Never leave home without it.’ He fished a roll from his tool belt, and in no time Frank had wrapped it around Nike’s head, securing the gag in her mouth.

‘Well, it’s not a laurel wreath,’ Frank said, ‘but it’s a new kind of victory circle: the gag of duct tape.’

‘Zhang,’ Leo said, ‘you got style.’

Nike thrashed and grunted until Percy nudged her with his toe. ‘Hey, shut up. You behave or we’ll get Arion back here and let him nibble your wings. He loves g

old.’

Nike shrieked once, then became still and quiet.

‘So …’ Hazel sounded a little nervous. ‘We have one tied-up goddess. Now what?’

Frank folded his arms. ‘We go looking for this physician’s cure … whatever that is. Because, personally, I like cheating death.’

Leo grinned. ‘Poison in Pylos? A chained god’s heartbeat in Sparta? A curse in Delos? Oh, yeah. This is gonna be fun!’

XIII

Nico

THE LAST THING NICO HEARD was Coach Hedge grumbling, ‘Well, this isn’t good.’

He wondered what he’d done wrong this time. Maybe he’d teleported them into a den of Cyclopes, or a thousand feet above another volcano. There was nothing he could do about it. His vision was gone. His other senses were shutting down. His knees buckled and he passed out.

He tried to make the most of his unconsciousness.

Dreams and death were old friends of his. He knew how to navigate their dark borderland. He sent out his thoughts, searching for Thalia Grace.

He rushed past the usual fragments of painful memories – his mother smiling down at him, her face illuminated by the sunlight rippling off the Venetian Grand Canal; his sister Bianca laughing as she pulled him across the Mall in Washington, D.C., her green floppy hat shading her eyes and the splash of freckles across her nose. He saw Percy Jackson on a snowy cliff outside Westover Hall, shielding Nico and Bianca from the manticore as Nico clutched a Mythomagic figurine and whispered, I’m scared. He saw Minos, his old ghostly mentor, leading him through the Labyrinth. Minos’s smile was cold and cruel. Don’t worry, son of Hades. You will have your revenge.

Nico couldn’t stop the memories. They cluttered his dreams like the ghosts of Asphodel – an aimless, sorrowful mob pleading for attention. Save me, they seemed to whisper. Remember me. Help me. Comfort me.

He didn’t dare stop to dwell on them. They would only crush him with wants and regrets. The best he could do was to stay focused and push through.

I am the son of Hades, he thought. I go where I wish. The darkness is my birthright.

He forged ahead through a grey-and-black terrain, looking for the dreams of Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus. Instead, the ground dissolved at his feet and he fell into a familiar backwater – the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood.

Buried under piles of feather comforters, snoring demigods nestled in their bunks. Above the mantel, a dark tree branch dripped milky water from the River Lethe into a bowl. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace. In front of it, in a leather armchair, dozed the head counsellor for Cabin Fifteen – a pot-bellied guy with unruly blond hair and a gentle bovine face.

‘Clovis,’ Nico growled, ‘for the gods’ sake, stop dreaming so powerfully!’

Clovis’s eyes fluttered open. He turned and stared at Nico, though Nico knew this was simply part of Clovis’s own dreamscape. The actual Clovis would still be snoring in his armchair back at camp.

‘Oh, hi …’ Clovis yawned wide enough to swallow a minor god. ‘Sorry. Did I pull you off course again?’

Nico gritted his teeth. There was no point getting upset. The Hypnos cabin was like Grand Central Station for dream activity. You couldn’t travel anywhere without going through it once in a while.

‘As long as I’m here,’ Nico said, ‘pass along a message. Tell Chiron I’m on my way with a couple of friends. We’re bringing the Athena Parthenos.’

Clovis rubbed his eyes. ‘So it’s true? How are you bringing it? Did you rent a van or something?’

Nico explained as concisely as possible. Messages sent through dreams tended to get fuzzy around the edges, especially when you were dealing with Clovis. The simpler, the better.

‘We’re being followed by a hunter,’ Nico said. ‘One of Gaia’s giants, I think. Can you get that message to Thalia Grace? You’re better at finding people in dreams than I am. I need her advice.’

Tags: Rick Riordan The Heroes of Olympus Fantasy
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