The Last Olympian

kind of worried about the old centaur, but at least he was alive. Katie Gardner reported that she’d seen Rachel Elizabeth Dare run out of the Empire State Building at the end of the battle. Rachel had looked unharmed, but nobody knew where she’d gone, which also troubled me.
    Nico di Angelo came into Olympus to a hero’s welcome, his father right behind him, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus on winter solstice. The god of the dead looked stunned when his relatives clapped him on the back. I doubt he’d ever gotten such an enthusiastic welcome before.
    Clarisse marched in, still shivering from her time in the ice block, and Ares bellowed, “There’s my girl!”
    The god of war ruffled her hair and pounded her on the back, calling her the best warrior he’d ever seen. “That drakon-slaying? THAT’S what I’m talking about!”
    She looked pretty overwhelmed. All she could do was nod and blink, like she was afraid he’d start hitting her, but eventually she began to smile.
    Hera and Hephaestus passed me, and while Hephaestus was a little grumpy about my jumping on his throne, he thought I’d done “a pretty bang-up job, mostly.”
    Hera sniffed in disdain. “I suppose I won’t destroy you and that little girl now.”
    “Annabeth saved Olympus,” I told her. “She convinced Luke to stop Kronos.”
    “Hmm,” Hera whirled away in a huff, but I figured our lives would be safe, at least for a little while.
    Dionysus’s head was still wrapped in a bandage. He looked me up and down and said, “Well, Percy Jackson. I see Pollux made it through, so I suppose you aren’t completely inept. It’s all thanks to my training, I suppose.”
    “Um, yes, sir,” I said.
    Mr. D nodded. “As thanks for my bravery, Zeus has cut my probation at that miserable camp in half. I now have only fifty years left instead of one hundred.”
    “Fifty years, huh?” I tried to imagine putting up with Dionysus until I was an old man, assuming I lived that long.
    “Don’t get so excited, Jackson,” he said, and I realized he was saying my name correctly. “I still plan on making your life miserable.”
    I couldn’t help smiling. “Naturally.”
    “Just so we understand each other.” He turned and began repairing his grapevine throne, which had been singed by fire.
    Grover stayed at my side. From time to time he would break down in tears. “So many nature spirits dead, Percy. So many .”
    I put my arm around his shoulders and gave him a rag to blow his nose. “You did a great job, G-man. We will come back from this. We’ll plant new trees. We’ll clean up the parks. Your friends will be reincarnated into a better world.”
    He sniffled dejectedly. “I . . . I suppose. But it was hard enough to rally them before. I’m still an outcast. I could barely get anyone to listen to me about Pan. Now will they ever listen to me again? I led them into a slaughter.”
    “They will listen,” I promised. “Because you care about them. You care about the Wild more than anyone.”
    He tried for a smile. “Thanks, Percy. I hope . . . I hope you know I’m really proud to be your friend.”
    I patted his arm. “Luke was right about one thing, G-man. You’re the bravest satyr I ever met.”
    He blushed, but before he could say anything, conch horns blew. The army of Poseidon marched into the throne room.
    “Percy!” Tyson yelled. He charged toward me with his arms open. Fortunately he’d shrunk back to normal size, so his hug was like getting hit by a tractor, not the entire farm.
    “You are not dead!” he said.
    “Yeah!” I agreed. “Amazing, huh?”
    He clapped his hands and laughed happily. “I am not dead either. Yay! We chained Typhon. It was fun!”
    Behind him, fifty other armored Cyclopes laughed and nodded and gave each other high fives.
    “Tyson led us,” one rumbled. “He is brave!”
    “Bravest of the Cyclopes!” another bellowed.
    Tyson blushed. “Was nothing.”
    “I saw you!” I said. “You were incredible!”
    I thought poor Grover would pass out. He’s deathly afraid of Cyclopes. But he steeled his nerves and said, “Yes. Um . . . three cheers for Tyson!”
    “YAAARRRRR!” the Cyclopes roared.
    “Please don’t eat me,” Grover muttered, but I don’t think anyone heard him.
    The conch horns blasted again. The Cyclopes parted, and my father strode into the throne room in his battle armor, his trident glowing in his hands.
    “Tyson!” he roared. “Well