by Rick Riordan
"Bad?" I guessed.
"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."
"Bad," I repeated.
"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."
It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.
I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me. I was furious.
"So I have to find the stupid bolt," I said. "And return it to Zeus."
"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"
"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?"
"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago… well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."
"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"
"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."
I swallowed. "Good reason."
"You agree then?"
I looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly.
Easy for him. I was the one Zeus wanted to kill.
"All right," I said. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."
"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."
Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trapdoor.
I pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place.
The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else… a smell I remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes.
I held my breath and climbed.
The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things—severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.
By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead a long, long time.
Looking at her sent chills up my back. And that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. I stumbled over myself trying to get to the trapdoor, but it slammed shut. Inside my head, I heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around my brain: I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.
I wanted to say, No thanks, wrong door, just looking for the bathroom. But I forced myself to take a deep breath.
The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around me in the green mist. But its presence didn't feel evil, like my demonic math teacher Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates I'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing me, either.
I got up the courage to ask, "What is my destiny?"
The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies.
My fists clenched, though I knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist.
Gabe turned toward me and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.
His buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice: You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.
The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: You shall he betrayed by one who calls you a friend.
Finally, Eddie, our building super, delivered the worst line of all: And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.
The figures began to dissolve. At first I was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, I cried, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"
The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.
I got the feeling that I could stand here until I had cobwebs, too, and I wouldn't learn anything else.
My audience with the Oracle was over.
"Well?" Chiron asked me.
I slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."
Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"
"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important."
My ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She.. she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."
"I knew it," Grover said.
Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"
I didn't want to tell him.
What friend would betray me? I didn't have that many.
And the last line—I would fail to save what mattered most. What kind of Oracle would send me on a quest and tell me, Oh, by the way, you'll fail
How could I confess that?
"No," I said. "That's about it."
He studied my face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."
I got the feeling he knew I was holding back something bad, and he was trying to make me feel better.
"Okay," I said, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"
"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"
"Somebody else who wants to take over?" I guessed.
"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken."
I thought about my dreams, the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. "Hades."
Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."
A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"
"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."
"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon…"
"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have
a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest."
"Great," I muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me."
"But a quest to…" Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."
"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."
A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. Hades had tried to kill me three times so far, with the Fury, the Minotaur, and the hellhound. It was his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he was trying to frame me and my dad for a theft we hadn't committed.
I was ready to take him on.
Besides, if my mother was in the Underworld…
Whoa, boy, said the small part of my brain that was still sane. You're a kid. Hades is a god.
Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.
The poor guy needed to complete a quest with me so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was, but how could I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said I was destined to fail? This was suicide.
"Look, if we know it's Hades," I told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."
"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"
"You're saying I'm being used."
"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."
My dad needs me.
Emotions rolled around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I didn't know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve years. Now suddenly he needed me.
I looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?"
"I had my suspicions. As I said… I've spoken to the Oracle, too."
I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling me about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn't worry about that right now. After all, I was holding back information too.
"So let me get this straight," I said. "I'm supposed go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."
"Check," Chiron said.
"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."
"Check."
"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."
"That's about right."
I looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.
"Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly.
"You don't have to go," I told him. "I can't ask that of you.
"Oh…" He shifted his hooves. "No… it's just that satyrs and underground places… well…"
He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If… if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."
I felt so relieved I wanted to cry, though I didn't think that would be very heroic. Grover was the only friend I'd ever had for longer than a few months. I wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he'd be with me.
"All the way, G-man." I turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west."
"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."
"Where?"
Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."
"Oh," I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—"
"No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"
I shook my head, feeling embarrassed. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.
"Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."
Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed.
"Okay," I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland."
"That's right," Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has already volunteered, if you will accept her help."
"Gee," I said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?"
The air shimmered behind Chiron.
Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.
"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain," she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."
"If you do say so yourself," I said. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"
Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?"
The truth was, I did. I needed all the help I could get.
"A trio," I said. "That'll work."
"Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."
Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.
"No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."
10
I RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD BUS
It didn't take me long to pack. I decided to leave the Minotaur horn in my cabin, which left me only an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush to stuff in a backpack Grover had found for me.
The camp store loaned me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions—whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth and me each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally.
Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector.
Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart'
s Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.
We waved good-bye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.
Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck.
"This is Argus," Chiron told me. "He will drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things."
I heard footsteps behind us.
Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.
"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."
Annabeth blushed, the way she always did when Luke was around.
"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told me. "And I thought… um, maybe you could use these."
He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal.
Luke said, "Maia!"
White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, I dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.
"Awesome!" Grover said.
Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days…." His expression turned sad.
I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. I'd been afraid he might resent me for getting so much attention the last few days. But here he was giving me a magic gift…. It made me blush almost as much as Annabeth.