by Rick Riordan
‘Even me.’
Mars took off his sunglasses. Where his eyes should’ve been, miniature spheres of fire boiled like nuclear explosions. ‘Self-pity isn’t helpful, kid. It isn’t worthy of you. Even without the family gift, your mom gave you your most important traits – bravery, loyalty, brains. Now you’ve got to decide how to use them. In the morning, listen to your grandmother. Take her advice. You can still free Thanatos and save the camp.’
‘And leave my grandmother behind to die.’
‘Life is only precious because it ends, kid. Take it from a god. You mortals don’t know how lucky you are.’
‘Yeah,’ Frank muttered. ‘Real lucky.’
Mars laughed – a harsh metallic sound. ‘Your mom used to tell me this Chinese proverb. Eat bitter –’
‘Eat bitter, taste sweet,’ Frank said. ‘I hate that proverb.’
‘But it’s true. What do they call it these days – no pain, no gain? Same concept. You do the easy thing, the appealing thing, the peaceful thing, mostly it turns out sour in the end. But if you take the hard path – ah, that’s how you reap the sweet rewards. Duty. Sacrifice. They mean something.’
Frank was so disgusted he could hardly speak. This was his father?
Sure, Frank understood about his mom being a hero. He understood she’d saved lives and been really brave. But she’d left him alone. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.
‘I’ll be going,’ Mars promised. ‘But first – you said you were weak. That’s not true. You want to know why Juno spared you, Frank? Why that piece of wood didn’t burn yet? It’s because you’ve got a role to play. You think you’re not as good as the other Romans. You think Percy Jackson is better than you.’
‘He is,’ Frank grumbled. ‘He battled you and won.’
Mars shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe so. But every hero has a fatal flaw. Percy Jackson? He’s too loyal to his friends. He can’t give them up, not for anything. He was told that, years ago. And some day soon he’s going to face a sacrifice he can’t make. Without you, Frank – without your sense of duty – he’s going fail. The whole war will go sideways, and Gaia will destroy our world.’
Frank shook his head. He couldn’t hear this.
‘War is a duty,’ Mars continued. ‘The only real choice is whether you accept it, and what you fight for. The legacy of Rome is on the line – five thousand years of law, order, civilization. The gods, the traditions, the cultures that shaped the world you live in: it’s all going to crumble, Frank, unless you win this. I think that’s worth fighting for. Think about it.’
‘What’s mine?’ Frank asked.
Mars raised an eyebrow. ‘Your what?’
‘Fatal flaw. You said all heroes have one.’
The god smiled dryly. ‘You gotta answer that yourself, Frank. But you’re finally asking the right questions. Now, get some sleep. You need the rest.’
The god waved his hand. Frank’s eyes felt heavy. He collapsed, and everything went dark.
‘Fai,’ said a familiar voice, harsh and impatient.
Frank blinked his eyes. Sunlight streamed into the room.
‘Fai, get up. As much as I would like to slap that ridiculous face of yours, I am in no condition to get out of bed.’
‘Grandmother?’
She came into focus, looking down at him from the bed. He lay sprawled on the floor. Someone had put a blanket over him during the night and a pillow under his head, but he had no idea how it had happened.
‘Yes, my silly ox.’ Grandmother still looked horribly weak and pale, but her voice was as steely as ever. ‘Now, get up. The ogres have surrounded the house. We have much to discuss if you and your friends are to escape here alive.’
XXXV
Frank
One look out of the window, and Frank knew he was in trouble.
At the edge of the lawn, the Laistrygonians were stacking bronze cannonballs. Their skin gleamed red. Their shaggy hair, tattoos and claws didn’t look any prettier in the morning light.
Some carried clubs or spears. A few confused ogres carried surfboards, like they’d shown up at the wrong party. All of them were in a festive mood – giving each other high fives, tying plastic bibs round their necks, breaking out the knives and forks. One ogre had fired up a portable barbecue and was dancing in an apron that said KISS THE COOK.
The scene would’ve been almost funny, except Frank knew he was the main course.
‘I’ve sent your friends to the attic,’ Grandmother said. ‘You can join them when we’re done.’
‘The attic?’ Frank turned. ‘You told me I could never go in there.’
‘That’s because we keep weapons in the attic, silly boy. Do you think this is the first time monsters have attacked our family?’
‘Weapons,’ Frank grumbled. ‘Right. I’ve never handled weapons before.’
Grandmother’s nostrils flared. ‘Was that sarcasm, Fai Zhang?’
‘Yes, Grandmother.’
‘Good. There may be hope for you yet. Now, sit. You must eat.’
She waved her hand at the nightstand, where someone had set a glass of orange juice and a plate of poached eggs and bacon on toast – Frank’s favourite breakfast.
Despite his troubles, Frank suddenly felt hungry. He looked at Grandmother in astonishment. ‘Did you –’
‘Make you breakfast? By Buddha’s monkey, of course not! And it wasn’t the house staff. Too dangerous for them here. No, your girlfriend Hazel made that for you. And brought you a blanket and pillow last night. And picked out some clean clothes for you in your bedroom. By the way, you should shower. You smell like burning horse hair.’
Frank opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn’t make sounds come out. Hazel had done all that for him? Frank had been sure he’d destroyed any chance with her last night when he had summoned Grey.
‘She’s … um … she’s not –’
‘Not your girlfriend?’ Grandmother guessed. ‘Well, she should be, you dolt! Don’t let her get away. You need strong women in your life, if you haven’t noticed. Now, to business.’
Frank ate while Grandmother gave him a sort of military briefing. In the daylight, her skin was so translucent, her veins seemed to glow. Her breathing sounded like a crackly paper bag inflating and deflating, but she spoke with firmness and clarity.
She explained that the ogres had been surrounding the house for three days, waiting for Frank to show up.
‘They want to cook you and eat you,’ she said distastefully, ‘which is ridiculous. You’d taste terrible.’
‘Thank you, Grandmother.’
She nodded. ‘I admit, I was somewhat pleased when they said you were coming back. I am glad to see you one last time, even if your clothes are dirty and you need a haircut. Is this how you represent your family?’
‘I’ve been a little busy, Grandmother.’
‘No excuse for sloppiness. At any rate, your friends have slept and eaten. They are taking stock of the weapons in the attic. I told them you would be along shortly, but there are too many ogres to fend off for long. We must speak of your escape plan. Look in my nightstand.’
Frank opened the drawer and pulled out a sealed envelope.
‘You know the airfield at the end of the park?’ Grandmother asked. ‘Could you find it again?’
Frank nodded mutely. It was about three miles to the north, down the main road through the canyon. Grandmother had taken him there sometimes when she would charter planes to bring in special shipments from China.
‘There is a pilot standing by to leave at a moment’s notice,’ Grandmother said. ‘He is an old family friend. I have a letter for him in that envelope, asking him to take you north.’
‘But –’
‘Do not argue, boy,’ she muttered. ‘Mars has been visiting me these last few days, keeping me company. He told me of your quest. Find Death in Alaska and releas
e him. Do your duty.’
‘But if I succeed you’ll die. I’ll never see you again.’
‘That is true,’ Grandmother agreed. ‘But I’ll die anyway. I’m old. I thought I made that clear. Now, did your praetor give you letters of introduction?’
‘Uh, yes, but –’
‘Good. Show those to the pilot as well. He’s a veteran of the legion. In case he has any doubts, or gets cold feet, those credentials will make him honour-bound to help you in any way possible. All you have to do is reach the airfield.’
The house rumbled. Outside a ball of fire exploded in midair, lighting up the entire room.
‘The ogres are getting restless,’ Grandmother said. ‘We must hurry. Now, about your powers, I hope you’ve figured them out.’
‘Uh …’
Grandmother muttered some curses in rapid-fire Mandarin. ‘Gods of your ancestors, boy! Have you learned nothing?’
‘Yes!’ He stammered out the details of his discussion with Mars the night before, but he felt much more tongue-tied in front of Grandmother. ‘The gift of Periclymenus … I think, I think he was a son of Poseidon, I mean Neptune, I mean …’ Frank spread his hands. ‘The sea god.’
Grandmother nodded grudgingly. ‘He was the grandson of Poseidon, but good enough. How did your brilliant intellect arrive at this fact?’
‘A seer in Portland … he said something about my great-grandfather, Shen Lun. The seer said he was blamed for the 1906 earthquake that destroyed San Francisco and the old location of Camp Jupiter.’
‘Go on.’
‘At camp, they said a descendant of Neptune had caused the disaster. Neptune is the god of earthquakes. But … but I don’t think great-grandfather actually did it. Causing earthquakes isn’t our gift.’
‘No,’ Grandmother agreed. ‘But, yes, he was blamed. He was unpopular as a descendant of Neptune. He was unpopular because his real gift was much stranger than causing earthquakes. And he was unpopular because he was Chinese. A Chinese boy had never before claimed Roman blood. An ugly truth – but there is no denying it. He was falsely accused, forced out in shame.’
‘So … if he didn’t do anything wrong, why did you tell me to apologize for him?’
Grandmother’s cheeks flushed. ‘Because apologizing for something you didn’t do is better than dying for it! I wasn’t sure if the camp would hold you to blame. I did not know if the prejudice of the Romans had eased.’
Frank swallowed down his breakfast. He’d been teased in school and on the streets sometimes, but not that much, and never at Camp Jupiter. Nobody at camp, not once, had made fun of him for being Asian. Nobody cared about that. They only made fun of him because he was clumsy and slow. He couldn’t imagine what it had been like for his great-grandfather, accused of destroying the entire camp, drummed out of the legion for something he didn’t do.
‘And our real gift?’ Grandmother asked. ‘Have you at least figured out what it is?’
His mother’s old stories swirled in Frank’s head. Fighting like a swarm of bees. He was the greatest dragon of all. He remembered his mother’s appearing next to him in the backyard, as if she’d flown from the attic. He remembered her coming out of the woods, saying that she’d given a mama grizzly bear directions.
‘You can be anything,’ Frank said. ‘That’s what she always told me.’
Grandmother huffed. ‘Finally, a dim light goes on in that head of yours. Yes, Fai Zhang. Your mother was not simply boosting your self-esteem. She was telling you the literal truth.’
‘But …’ Another explosion shook the house. Ceiling plaster fell like snow. Frank was so bewildered he barely noticed. ‘Anything?’
‘Within reason,’ Grandmother said. ‘Living things. It helps if you know the creature well. It also helps if you are in a life-and-death situation, such as combat. Why do you look so surprised, Fai? You have always said you are not comfortable in your own body. We all feel that way – all of us with the blood of Pylos. This gift was only given once to a mortal family. We are unique among demigods. Poseidon must have been feeling especially generous when he blessed our ancestor – or especially spiteful. The gift has often proven a curse. It did not save your mother …’
Outside, a cheer went up from the ogres. Someone shouted, ‘Zhang! Zhang!’
‘You must go, silly boy,’ Grandmother said. ‘Our time is up.’
‘But – I don’t know how to use my power. I’ve never – I can’t –’
‘You can,’ Grandmother said. ‘Or you will not survive to realize your destiny. I don’t like this Prophecy of Seven that Mars told me about. Seven is an unlucky number in Chinese – a ghost number. But there is nothing we can do about that. Now, go! Tomorrow evening is the Feast of Fortuna. You have no time to waste. Don’t worry about me. I will die in my own time, in my own way. I have no intention of being devoured by those ridiculous ogres. Go!’
Frank turned at the door. He felt like his heart was being squeezed through a juicer, but he bowed formally. ‘Thank you, Grandmother,’ he said. ‘I will make you proud.’
She muttered something under her breath. Frank almost thought she had said, You have.
He stared at her, dumbfounded, but her expression immediately soured. ‘Stop gaping, boy! Go shower and dress! Comb your hair! My last image of you, and you show me messy hair?’
He patted down his hair and bowed again.
His last image of Grandmother was of her glaring out of the window, as if thinking about the terrible scolding she would give the ogres when they invaded her home.
XXXVI
Frank
Frank took the quickest possible shower, put on the clothes Hazel had set out – an olive-green shirt with beige cargo pants, really? – then grabbed his spare bow and quiver and bounded up the attic stairs.
The attic was full of weapons. His family had collected enough ancient armaments to supply an army. Shields, spears and quivers of arrows hung along one wall – almost as many as in the Camp Jupiter armoury. At the back window, a scorpion crossbow was mounted and loaded, ready for action. At the front window stood something that looked like a machine gun with a cluster of barrels.
‘Rocket launcher?’ he wondered aloud.
‘Nope, nope,’ said a voice from the corner. ‘Potatoes. Ella doesn’t like potatoes.’
The harpy had made a nest for herself between two old steamer trunks. She was sitting in a pile of Chinese scrolls, reading seven or eight at once.
‘Ella,’ Frank said, ‘where are the others?’
‘Roof.’ She glanced upward, then returned to her reading, alternately picking at her feathers and turning pages. ‘Roof. Ogre-watching. Ella doesn’t like ogres. Potatoes.’
‘Potatoes?’ Frank didn’t understand until he swivelled the machine gun around. Its eight barrels were loaded with spuds. At the base of the gun, a basket was filled with more edible ammunition.
He looked out of the window – the same window his mom had watched him from when he had met the bear. Down in the yard, the ogres were milling around, shoving each other, occasionally yelling at the house, and throwing bronze cannonballs that exploded in midair.
‘They have cannonballs,’ Frank said. ‘And we have a potato gun.’
‘Starch,’ Ella said thoughtfully. ‘Starch is bad for ogres.’
The house shook from another explosion. Frank needed to reach the roof and see how Percy and Hazel were doing, but he felt bad leaving Ella alone.
He knelt next to her, careful not to get too close. ‘Ella, it’s not safe here with the ogres. We’re going to be flying to Alaska soon. Will you come with us?’
Ella twitched uncomfortably. ‘Alaska. Six hundred twenty-six thousand, four hundred twenty-five square miles. State mammal: the moose.’
Suddenly she switched to Latin, which Frank could just barely follow thanks to his classes at Camp Jupiter: ‘To the north, beyond the gods, lies the le
gion’s crown. Falling from ice, the son of Neptune shall drown –’ She stopped and scratched her dishevelled red hair. ‘Hmm. Burnt. The rest is burnt.’
Frank could hardly breathe. ‘Ella, was … was that a prophecy? Where did you read that?’
‘Moose,’ Ella said, savouring the word. ‘Moose. Moose. Moose.’
The house shook again. Dust rained down from the rafters. Outside, an ogre bellowed, ‘Frank Zhang! Show yourself!’
‘Nope,’ Ella said. ‘Frank shouldn’t. Nope.’
‘Just … stay here, okay?’ Frank said. ‘I’ve got to go help Hazel and Percy.’
He pulled down the ladder to the roof.
‘Morning,’ Percy said grimly. ‘Beautiful day, huh?’
He wore the same clothes as the day before – jeans, his purple T-shirt and Polartec jacket – but they’d obviously been freshly washed. He held his sword in one hand and a garden hose in the other. Why there was a garden hose on the roof, Frank wasn’t sure, but every time the giants sent up a cannonball, Percy summoned a high-powered blast of water and detonated the sphere in midair. Then Frank remembered – his family was descended from Poseidon, too. Grandmother had said their house had been attacked before. Maybe they had put a hose up here for just that reason.
Hazel patrolled the widow’s walk between the two attic gables. She looked so good it made Frank’s chest hurt. She wore jeans, a cream-coloured jacket and a white shirt that made her skin look as warm as cocoa. Her curly hair fell around her shoulders. When she came close, Frank could smell jasmine shampoo.
She gripped her sword. When she glanced at Frank, her eyes flashed with concern. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked. ‘Why are you smiling?’
‘Oh, uh, nothing,’ he managed. ‘Thanks for breakfast. And the clothes. And … not hating me.’
Hazel looked baffled. ‘Why would I hate you?’
Frank’s face burned. He wished he’d kept his mouth shut, but it was too late now. Don’t let her get away, his grandmother had said. You need strong women.
‘It’s just … last night,’ he stammered. ‘When I summoned the skeleton. I thought … I thought that you thought … I was repulsive … or something.’