The Blood of Olympus(79)

Percy looked like his nausea was coming back. ‘How would we do that with Gaia?’

Jason recalled a line from the prophecy: To storm or fire the world must fall. He had an idea what that meant now … but, if he was right, Percy wouldn’t be able to help. In fact, he might unintentionally make things harder.

I don’t run when my friends need me, Percy had said.

And there is your flaw, Kym had warned, being unable to step away.

Today was 27 July. In five days, Jason would know if he was right.

‘Let’s get to Delos first,’ he said. ‘Apollo and Artemis might have some advice.’

Percy nodded, though he didn’t seem satisfied with that answer. ‘Why did Kymopoleia call you a Pontiac?’

Jason’s laugh literally cleared the air. ‘Pontifex. It means priest.’

‘Oh.’ Percy frowned. ‘Still sounds like a kind of car. “The new Pontifex XLS.” Will you have to wear a collar and bless people?’

‘Nah. Romans used to have a Pontifex Maximus, who oversaw all the proper sacrifices and whatnot, to make sure none of the gods got mad. Which I offered to do … I guess it does sound like a pontifex’s job.’

‘So you meant it?’ Percy asked. ‘You’re really going to try building shrines for all the minor gods?’

‘Yeah. I never really thought about it before, but I like the idea of going back and forth between the two camps – assuming, you know, we make it through next week and the two camps still exist. What you did last year on Olympus, turning down immortality and asking the gods to play nice instead – that was noble, man.’

Percy grunted. ‘Believe me, some days I regret the choice. Oh, you want to turn down our offer? Okay, fine! ZAP! Lose your memory! Go to Tartarus!’

‘You did what a hero should do. I admire you for that. The least I can do, if we survive, is continue that work – make sure all the gods get some recognition. Who knows? If the gods get along better, maybe we can stop more of these wars from breaking out.’

‘That would most definitely be good,’ Percy agreed. ‘You know, you look different … better different. Does your wound still hurt?’

‘My wound …’ Jason had been so busy with the giant and the goddess, he’d forgotten about the sword wound in his gut, even though he’d been dying from it in sickbay only an hour ago.

He lifted his shirt and pulled away the bandages. No smoke. No bleeding. No scar. No pain.

‘It’s … gone,’ he said, stunned. ‘I feel completely normal. What the heck?’

‘You beat it, man!’ Percy laughed. ‘You found your own cure.’

Jason considered that. He guessed it must be true. Maybe putting aside his pain to help his friends had done the trick.

Or maybe his decision to honour the gods at both camps had healed him, giving him a clear path to the future. Roman or Greek … the difference didn’t matter. Like he’d told the ghosts at Ithaca, his family had just got bigger. Now he saw his place in it. He would keep his promise to the storm goddess. And because of that, Michael Varus’s sword meant nothing.

Die a Roman.

No. If he had to die, he would die a son of Jupiter, a child of the gods – the blood of Olympus. But he wasn’t about to let himself get sacrificed – at least not without a fight.

‘Come on.’ Jason clapped his friend on the back. ‘Let’s go check on our ship.’





XXIX


Nico


GIVEN A CHOICE between death and the Buford Zippy Mart, Nico would’ve had a tough time deciding. At least he knew his way around the Land of the Dead. Plus the food was fresher.

‘I still don’t get it,’ Coach Hedge muttered as they roamed the centre aisle. ‘They named a whole town after Leo’s table?’

‘I think the town was here first, Coach,’ Nico said.

‘Huh.’ The coach picked up a box of powdered doughnuts. ‘Maybe you’re right. These look at least a hundred years old. I miss those Portuguese farturas.’

Nico couldn’t think about Portugal without his arms hurting. Across his biceps, the werewolf claw marks were still swollen and red. The store clerk had asked Nico if he’d picked a fight with a bobcat.

They bought a first-aid kit, a pad of paper (so Coach Hedge could write more paper aeroplane messages to his wife), some junk food and soda (since the banquet table in Reyna’s new magic tent only provided healthy food and fresh water) and some miscellaneous camping supplies for Coach Hedge’s useless but impressively complicated monster traps.

Nico had been hoping to find some fresh clothes. Two days since they’d fled San Juan, he was tired of walking around in his tropical ISLA DEL ENCANTORICO shirt, especially since Coach Hedge had a matching one. Unfortunately, the Zippy Mart only carried T-shirts with Confederate flags and corny sayings like KEEP CALM AND FOLLOW THE REDNECK. Nico decided he’d stick with parrots and palm trees.