The Blood of Olympus(39)

‘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.’

‘I’ll try.’ Clovis fumbled for a cup of hot chocolate on the side table. ‘Uh, before you go, do you have a second?’

‘Clovis, this is a dream,’ Nico reminded him. ‘Time is fluid.’

Even as he said it, Nico worried about what was happening in the real world. His physical self might be plummeting to his death, or surrounded by monsters. Still, he couldn’t force himself to wake up – not after the amount of energy he’d expended on shadow-travel.

Clovis nodded. ‘Right … I was thinking you should probably see what happened today at the council of war. I slept through some of it, but –’

‘Show me,’ Nico said.

The scene changed. Nico found himself in the rec room of the Big House, all the senior camp leaders gathered around the ping-pong table.

At one end sat Chiron the centaur, his equine posterior collapsed into his magic wheelchair so he looked like a regular human. His curly brown hair and beard had more grey streaks than a few months ago. Deep lines etched his face.

‘– things we can’t control,’ he was saying. ‘Now let’s review our defences. Where do we stand?’

Clarisse from the Ares cabin sat forward. She was the only one in full armour, which was typical. Clarisse probably slept in her combat gear. As she spoke, she gestured with her dagger, which made the other counsellors lean away from her.

‘Our defensive line is mostly solid,’ she said. ‘The campers are as ready to fight as they’ll ever be. We control the beach. Our triremes are unchallenged on Long Island Sound, but those stupid giant eagles dominate our airspace. Inland, in all three directions, the barbarians have us completely cut off.’

‘They’re Romans,’ said Rachel Dare, doodling with a marker on the knee of her jeans. ‘Not barbarians.’

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. ‘What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!’

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. ‘That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it –’

‘She’s right.’ Will Solace, head counsellor for the Apollo cabin, put his hand gently on Clarisse’s wrist. Not many campers could’ve done that without getting stabbed, but Will had a way of defusing people’s anger. He got her to lower her dagger. ‘Everyone in our cabin has been affected. It’s not just Rachel.’

Will’s shaggy blond hair and pale blue eyes reminded Nico of Jason Grace, but the similarities ended there.

Jason was a fighter. You could tell from the intensity of his stare, his constant alertness, the coiled-up energy in his frame. Will Solace was more like a lanky cat stretched out in the sunshine. His movements were relaxed and nonthreatening, his gaze soft and far away. In his faded SURF BARBADOS T-shirt, his cutoff shorts and flip-flops, he looked about as unaggressive as a demigod could get, but Nico knew he was brave under fire. During the Battle of Manhattan, Nico had seen him in action – the camp’s best combat medic, risking his life to save wounded campers.

‘We don’t know what’s going on at Delphi,’ Will continued. ‘My dad hasn’t answered any prayers, or appeared in any dreams … I mean, all the gods have been silent, but this isn’t like Apollo. Something’s wrong.’