by Rick Riordan
Hazel pointed out the Temple of Bellona. ‘Goddess of war,’ she said. ‘That’s Reyna’s mom.’ Then they passed a massive red crypt decorated with human skulls on iron spikes.
‘Please tell me we’re not going in there,’ Percy said.
Hazel shook her head. ‘That’s the Temple of Mars Ultor.’
‘Mars … Ares, the war god?’
‘That’s his Greek name,’ Hazel said. ‘But, yeah, same guy. Ultor means “the Avenger”. He’s the second-most important god of Rome.’
Percy wasn’t thrilled to hear that. For some reason, just looking at the ugly red building made him feel angry.
He pointed towards the summit. Clouds swirled over the largest temple, a round pavilion with a ring of white columns supporting a domed roof. ‘I’m guessing that’s Zeus – uh, I mean, Jupiter’s? That’s where we’re heading?’
‘Yeah.’ Hazel sounded edgy. ‘Octavian reads auguries there – the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus.’
Percy had to think about it, but the Latin words clicked into English. ‘Jupiter … the best and the greatest?’
‘Right.’
‘What’s Neptune’s title?’ Percy asked. ‘The coolest and most awesome?’
‘Um, not quite.’ Hazel gestured to a small blue building the size of a toolshed. A cobweb-covered trident was nailed above the door.
Percy peeked inside. On a small altar sat a bowl with three dried-up, mouldy apples.
His heart sank. ‘Popular place.’
‘I’m sorry, Percy,’ Hazel said. ‘It’s just … Romans were always scared of the sea. They only used ships if they had to. Even in modern times, having a child of Neptune around has always been a bad omen. The last time one joined the legion … well, it was 1906, when Camp Jupiter was located across the bay in San Francisco. There was this huge earthquake –’
‘You’re telling me a child of Neptune caused that?’
‘So they say.’ Hazel looked apologetic. ‘Anyway … Romans fear Neptune, but they don’t love him much.’
Percy stared at the cobwebs on the trident.
Great, he thought. Even if he joined the camp, he would never be loved. His best hope was to be scary to his new camp mates. Maybe if he did really well they’d give him some mouldy apples.
Still … standing at Neptune’s altar, he felt something stirring inside him, like waves rippling through his veins.
He reached in his backpack and dug out the last bit of food from his trip – a stale bagel. It wasn’t much, but he set it on the altar.
‘Hey … uh, Dad.’ He felt pretty stupid talking to a bowl of fruit. ‘If you can hear me, help me out, okay? Give me my memory back. Tell me – tell me what to do.’
His voice cracked. He hadn’t meant to get emotional, but he was exhausted and scared, and he’d been lost for so long that he would’ve given anything for some guidance. He wanted to know something about his life for sure, without grabbing for missing memories.
Hazel put her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’ll be okay. You’re here now. You’re one of us.’
He felt awkward, depending on an eighth-grade girl he barely knew for comfort, but he was glad she was there.
Above them, thunder rumbled. Red lightning lit up the hill.
‘Octavian’s almost done,’ Hazel said. ‘Let’s go.’
Compared to Neptune’s toolshed, Jupiter’s temple was definitely optimus and maximus.
The marble floor was etched with fancy mosaics and Latin inscriptions. Sixty feet above, the domed ceiling sparkled gold. The whole temple was open to the wind.
In the centre stood a marble altar, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual in front of a massive golden statue of the big dude himself: Jupiter the sky god, dressed in a silk XXXL purple toga, holding a lightning bolt.
‘It doesn’t look like that,’ Percy muttered.
‘What?’ Hazel asked.
‘The master bolt,’ Percy said.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘I –’ Percy frowned. For a second, he’d thought he remembered something. Now it was gone. ‘Nothing, I guess.’
The kid at the altar raised his hands. More red lightning flashed in the sky, shaking the temple. Then he put his hands down, and the rumbling stopped. The clouds turned from grey to white and broke apart.
A pretty impressive trick, considering the kid didn’t look like much. He was tall and skinny, with straw-coloured hair, oversized jeans, a baggy T-shirt and a drooping toga. He looked like a scarecrow wearing a bedsheet.
‘What’s he doing?’ Percy murmured.
The guy in the toga turned. He had a crooked smile and a slightly crazy look in his eyes, like he’d just been playing an intense video game. In one hand he held a knife. In the other hand was something like a dead animal. That didn’t make him look any less crazy.
‘Percy,’ Hazel said, ‘this is Octavian.’
‘The graecus!’ Octavian announced. ‘How interesting.’
‘Uh, hi,’ Percy said. ‘Are you killing small animals?’
Octavian looked at the fuzzy thing in his hand and laughed. ‘No, no. Once upon a time, yes. We used to read the will of the gods by examining animal guts – chickens, goats, that sort of thing. Nowadays, we use these.’
He tossed the fuzzy thing to Percy. It was a disembowelled teddy bear. Then Percy noticed that there was a whole pile of mutilated stuffed animals at the foot of Jupiter’s statue.
‘Seriously?’ Percy asked.
Octavian stepped off the dais. He was probably about eighteen, but so skinny and sickly pale, he could’ve passed for younger. At first he looked harmless, but as he got closer Percy wasn’t so sure. Octavian’s eyes glittered with harsh curiosity, like he might gut Percy just as easily as a teddy bear if he thought he could learn something from it.
Octavian narrowed his eyes. ‘You seem nervous.’
‘You remind me of someone,’ Percy said. ‘I can’t remember who.’
‘Possibly my namesake, Octavian – Augustus Caesar. Everyone says I bear a remarkable resemblance.’
Percy didn’t think that was it, but he couldn’t pin down the memory. ‘Why did you call me “the Greek”?’
‘I saw it in the auguries.’ Octavian waved his knife at the pile of stuffing on the altar. ‘The message said: The Greek has arrived. Or possibly: The goose has cried. I’m thinking the first interpretation is correct. You seek to join the legion?’
Hazel spoke for him. She told Octavian everything that had happened since they met at the tunnel – the gorgons, the fight at the river, the appearance of Juno, their conversation with Reyna.
When she mentioned Juno, Octavian looked surprised.
‘Juno,’ he mused. ‘We call her Juno Moneta. Juno the Warner. She appears in times of crisis, to counsel Rome about great threats.’
He glanced at Percy, as if to say: like mysterious Greeks, for instance.
‘I hear the Feast of Fortuna is this week,’ Percy said. ‘The gorgons warned there’d be an invasion on that day. Did you see that in your stuffing?’
‘Sadly, no.’ Octavian sighed. ‘The will of the gods is hard to discern. And these days, my vision is even darker.’
‘Don’t you have … I don’t know,’ Percy said, ‘an oracle or something?’
‘An oracle!’ Octavian smiled. ‘What a cute idea. No, I’m afraid we’re fresh out of oracles. Now, if we’d gone questing for the Sibylline books, like I recommended –’
‘The Siba-what?’ Percy asked.
‘Books of prophecy,’ Hazel said, ‘which Octavian is obsessed with. Romans used to consult them when disasters happened. Most people believe they burned up when Rome fell.’
‘Some people believe that,’ Octavian corrected. ‘Unfortunately our present leadership won’t authorize a quest to look for them –’
‘Because Reyna isn’t s
tupid,’ Hazel said.
‘– so we have only a few remaining scraps from the books,’ Octavian continued. ‘A few mysterious predictions, like these.’
He nodded to the inscriptions on the marble floor. Percy stared at the lines of words, not really expecting to understand them. He almost choked.
‘That one.’ He pointed, translating as he read aloud: ‘Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. To storm or fire the world must fall –’
‘Yes, yes.’ Octavian finished it without looking: ‘An oath to keep with a final breath, and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death.’
‘I – I know that one.’ Percy thought thunder was shaking the temple again. Then he realized his whole body was trembling. ‘That’s important.’
Octavian arched an eyebrow. ‘Of course it’s important. We call it the Prophecy of Seven, but it’s several thousand years old. We don’t know what it means. Every time someone tries to interpret it … Well, Hazel can tell you. Bad things happen.’
Hazel glared at him. ‘Just read the augury for Percy. Can he join the legion or not?’
Percy could almost see Octavian’s mind working, calculating whether or not Percy would be useful. He held out his hand for Percy’s backpack. ‘That’s a beautiful specimen. May I?’
Percy didn’t understand what he meant, but Octavian snatched the Bargain Mart panda pillow that was sticking out of the top of his pack. It was just a silly stuffed toy, but Percy had carried it a long way. He was kind of fond of it. Octavian turned towards the altar and raised his knife.
‘Hey!’ Percy protested.
Octavian slashed open the panda’s belly and poured its stuffing over the altar. He tossed the panda carcass aside, muttered a few words over the fluff, and turned with a big smile on his face.
‘Good news!’ he said. ‘Percy may join the legion. We’ll assign him a cohort at evening muster. Tell Reyna that I approve.’
Hazel’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Uh … great. Come on, Percy.’
‘Oh, and, Hazel,’ Octavian said. ‘I’m happy to welcome Percy into the legion. But when the election for praetor comes up, I hope you’ll remember –’
‘Jason isn’t dead,’ Hazel snapped. ‘You’re the augur. You’re supposed to be looking for him!’
‘Oh, I am!’ Octavian pointed at the pile of gutted stuffed animals. ‘I consult the gods every day! Alas, after eight months, I’ve found nothing. Of course, I’m still looking. But if Jason doesn’t return by the Feast of Fortuna we must act. We can’t have a power vacuum any longer. I hope you’ll support me for praetor. It would mean so much to me.’
Hazel clenched her fists. ‘Me. Support. You?’
Octavian took off his toga, setting it and his knife on the altar. Percy noticed seven lines on Octavian’s arm – seven years of camp, Percy guessed. Octavian’s mark was a harp, the symbol of Apollo.
‘After all,’ Octavian told Hazel, ‘I might be able to help you. It would be a shame if those awful rumours about you kept circulating … or, gods forbid, if they turned out to be true.’
Percy slipped his hand into his pocket and grabbed his pen. This guy was blackmailing Hazel. That was obvious. One sign from Hazel, and Percy was ready to bust out Riptide and see how Octavian liked being at the other end of a blade.
Hazel took a deep breath. Her knuckles were white. ‘I’ll think about it.’
‘Excellent,’ Octavian said. ‘By the way, your brother is here.’
Hazel stiffened. ‘My brother? Why?’
Octavian shrugged. ‘Why does your brother do anything? He’s waiting for you at your father’s shrine. Just … ah, don’t invite him to stay too long. He has a disturbing effect on the others. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to keep searching for our poor lost friend, Jason. Nice to meet you, Percy.’
Hazel stormed out of the pavilion, and Percy followed. He was sure he’d never been so glad to leave a temple in his life.
As Hazel marched down the hill, she cursed in Latin. Percy didn’t understand all of it, but he got son of a gorgon, power-hungry snake, and a few choice suggestions about where Octavian could stick his knife.
‘I hate that guy,’ she muttered in English. ‘If I had my way –’
‘He won’t really get elected praetor, will he?’ Percy asked.
‘I wish I could be certain. Octavian has a lot of friends, most of them bought. The rest of the campers are afraid of him.’
‘Afraid of that skinny little guy?’
‘Don’t underestimate him. Reyna’s not so bad by herself, but if Octavian shares her power …’ Hazel shuddered. ‘Let’s go see my brother. He’ll want to meet you.’
Percy didn’t argue. He wanted to meet this mysterious brother, maybe learn something about Hazel’s background – who her dad was, what secret she was hiding. Percy couldn’t believe she’d done anything to be guilty about. She seemed too nice. But Octavian had acted like he had some first-class dirt on her.
Hazel led Percy to a black crypt built into the side of the hill. Standing in front was a teenage boy in black jeans and an aviator jacket.
‘Hey,’ Hazel called. ‘I’ve brought a friend.’
The boy turned. Percy had another one of those weird flashes: like this was somebody he should know. The kid was almost as pale as Octavian, but with dark eyes and messy black hair. He didn’t look anything like Hazel. He wore a silver skull ring, a chain for a belt and a black T-shirt with skull designs. At his side hung a pure-black sword.
For a microsecond when he saw Percy, the boy seemed shocked – panicked even, like he’d been caught in a searchlight.
‘This is Percy Jackson,’ Hazel said. ‘He’s a good guy. Percy, this is my brother, the son of Pluto.’
The boy regained his composure and held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said. ‘I’m Nico di Angelo.’
V
Hazel
Hazel felt like she’d just introduced two nuclear bombs. Now she was waiting to see which one exploded first.
Until that morning, her brother Nico had been the most powerful demigod she knew. The others at Camp Jupiter saw him as a travelling oddball, about as harmless as the fauns. Hazel knew better. She hadn’t grown up with Nico, hadn’t even known him very long. But she knew Nico was more dangerous than Reyna, or Octavian, or maybe even Jason.
Then she’d met Percy.
At first, when she saw him stumbling up the highway with the old lady in his arms, Hazel had thought he might be a god in disguise. Even though he was beaten up, dirty and stooped with exhaustion, he’d had an aura of power. He had the good looks of a Roman god, with sea-green eyes and windblown black hair.
She’d ordered Frank not to fire on him. She thought the gods might be testing them. She’d heard myths like that: a kid with an old lady begs for shelter, and when the rude mortals refuse – boom, they get turned into banana slugs.
Then Percy had controlled the river and destroyed the gorgons. He’d turned a pen into a bronze sword. He’d stirred up the whole camp with talk about the graecus.
A son of the sea god …
Long ago, Hazel had been told that a descendant of Neptune would save her. But could Percy really take away her curse? It seemed too much to hope for.
Percy and Nico shook hands. They studied each other warily, and Hazel fought the urge to run. If these two busted out the magic swords, things could get ugly.
Nico didn’t appear scary. He was skinny and sloppy in his rumpled black clothes. His hair, as always, looked like he’d just rolled out of bed.
Hazel remembered when she’d met him. The first time she’d seen him draw that black sword of his, she’d almost laughed. The way he called it ‘Stygian iron’, all serious-like – he’d looked ridiculous. This scrawny white boy was no fighter. She certainly hadn’t believed they were related.
She had changed her mind about that quick enough.
Percy scow
led. ‘I – I know you.’
Nico raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you?’ He looked at Hazel for explanation.
Hazel hesitated. Something about her brother’s reaction wasn’t right. He was trying hard to act casual, but when he had first seen Percy, Hazel had noticed his momentary look of panic. Nico already knew Percy. She was sure of it. Why was he pretending otherwise?
Hazel forced herself to speak. ‘Um … Percy’s lost his memory.’ She told her brother what had happened since Percy had arrived at the gates.
‘So, Nico …’ she continued carefully, ‘I thought … you know, you travel all over. Maybe you’ve met demigods like Percy before, or …’
Nico’s expression turned as dark as Tartarus. Hazel didn’t understand why, but she got the message: Drop it.
‘This story about Gaia’s army,’ Nico said. ‘You warned Reyna?’
Percy nodded. ‘Who is Gaia, anyway?’
Hazel’s mouth went dry. Just hearing that name … It was all she could do to keep her knees from buckling. She remembered a woman’s soft sleepy voice, a glowing cave and feeling her lungs fill with black oil.
‘She’s the earth goddess.’ Nico glanced at the ground as if it might be listening. ‘The oldest goddess of all. She’s in a deep sleep most of the time, but she hates the gods and their children.’
‘Mother Earth … is evil?’ Percy asked.
‘Very,’ Nico said gravely. ‘She convinced her son, the Titan Kronos – um, I mean, Saturn – to kill his dad, Uranus, and take over the world. The Titans ruled for a long time. Then the Titans’ children, the Olympian gods, overthrew them.’
‘That story seems familiar.’ Percy sounded surprised, like an old memory had partially surfaced. ‘But I don’t think I ever heard the part about Gaia.’
Nico shrugged. ‘She got mad when the gods took over. She took a new husband – Tartarus, the spirit of the abyss – and gave birth to a race of giants. They tried to destroy Mount Olympus, but the gods finally beat them. At least … the first time.’