The Last Olympian

meant, I had to stay focused on our mission.
    “Um, Lady Hestia,” I said, “we’ve come on urgent business. We need to see—”
    “We know what you need,” a man’s voice said. I shuddered, because it was the same voice I’d heard in the vision.
    A god shimmered into existence next to Hestia. He looked about twenty-five, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and elfish features. He wore a military pilot’s flight suit, with tiny bird’s wings fluttering on his helmet and his black leather boots. In the crook of his arm was a long staff entwined with two living serpents.
    “I will leave you now,” Hestia said. She bowed to the aviator and disappeared into smoke. I understood why she was so anxious to go. Hermes, the God of Messengers, did not look happy.
    “Hello, Percy.” His brow furrowed as though he was annoyed with me, and I wondered if he somehow knew about the vision I’d just had. I wanted to ask why he’d been at May Castellan’s house that night, and what had happened after he caught Luke. I remembered the first time I’d met Luke at Camp Half-Blood. I’d asked him if he’d ever met his father, and he’d looked at me bitterly and said, Once . But I could tell from Hermes’s expression that this was not the time to ask.
    I bowed awkwardly. “Lord Hermes.”
    Oh, sure, one of the snakes said in my mind. Don’t say hi to us . We’re just reptiles.
    George , the other snake scolded. Be polite.
    “Hello, George,” I said. “Hey, Martha.”
    Did you bring us a rat? George asked.
    George, stop it , Martha said. He’s busy!
    Too busy for rats? George said. That’s just sad.
    I decided it was better not to get into it with George. “Um, Hermes,” I said. “We need to talk to Zeus. It’s important.”
    Hermes’s eyes were steely cold. “I am his messenger. May I take a message?”
    Behind me, the other demigods shifted restlessly. This wasn’t going as planned. Maybe if I tried to speak with Hermes in private . . .
    “You guys,” I said. “Why don’t you do a sweep of the city? Check the defenses. See who’s left in Olympus. Meet Annabeth and me back here in thirty minutes.”
    Silena frowned. “But—”
    “That’s a good idea,” Annabeth said. “Connor and Travis, you two lead.”
    The Stolls seemed to like that—getting handed an important responsibility right in front of their dad. They usually never led anything except toilet paper raids. “We’re on it!” Travis said. They herded the others out of the throne room, leaving Annabeth and me with Hermes.
    “My lord,” Annabeth said. “Kronos is going to attack New York. You must suspect that. My mother must have foreseen it.”
    “Your mother,” Hermes grumbled. He scratched his back with his caduceus, and George and Martha muttered Ow, ow, ow . “Don’t get me started on your mother, young lady. She’s the reason I’m here at all. Zeus didn’t want any of us to leave the front line. But your mother kept pestering him nonstop, ‘It’s a trap, it’s a diversion, blah, blah, blah.’ She wanted to come back herself, but Zeus was not going to let his number one strategist leave his side while we’re battling Typhon. And so naturally he sent me to talk to you.”
    “But it is a trap!” Annabeth insisted. “Is Zeus blind?”
    Thunder rolled through the sky.
    “I’d watch the comments, girl,” Hermes warned. “Zeus is not blind or deaf. He has not left Olympus completely undefended.”
    “But there are these blue lights—”
    “Yes, yes. I saw them. Some mischief by that insufferable goddess of magic, Hecate, I’d wager, but you may have noticed they aren’t doing any damage. Olympus has strong magical wards. Besides, Aeolus, the King of the Winds, has sent his most powerful minions to guard the citadel. No one save the gods can approach Olympus from the air. They would be knocked out of the sky.”
    I raised my hand. “Um . . . what about that materializing/ teleporting thing you guys do?”
    “That’s a form of air travel too, Jackson. Very fast, but the wind gods are faster. No, if Kronos wants Olympus, he’ll have to march through the entire city with his army and take the elevators! Can you see him doing this?”
    Hermes made it sound pretty ridiculous—hordes of monsters going up in the elevator twenty at a time, listening to “Stayin’ Alive.” Still, I didn’t like it.
    “Maybe just a few of you could come back,” I suggested.
    Hermes shook his head impatiently. “Percy Jackson,