The Last Olympian

the windows of the shops. The crab didn’t care. He loved water. He came at me sideways, snapping and hissing, and I ran straight at him, screaming, “AHHHHHHH!”
    Just before we collided, I hit the ground baseball-style and slid on the wet marble floor straight under him. It was like sliding under a seven-ton armored vehicle. All the crab had to do was sit and squash me, but before he realized what was going on, I jabbed Riptide into the chink in his armor, let go of the hilt, and pushed myself out the backside.
    The monster shuddered and hissed. His eyes dissolved. His shell turned bright red as his insides evaporated. The empty shell clattered to the floor in a massive heap.
    I didn’t have time to admire my handiwork. I ran for the nearest stairs while all around me monsters and demigods shouted orders and strapped on their weapons. I was empty-handed. Riptide, being magic, would appear in my pocket sooner or later, but for now it was stuck somewhere under the wreckage of the crab, and I had no time to retrieve it.
    In the elevator foyer on deck eight, a couple of dracaenae slithered across my path. From the waist up, they were women with green scaly skin, yellow eyes, and forked tongues. From the waist down, they had double snake trunks instead of legs. They held spears and weighted nets, and I knew from experience they could use them.
    “What isss thisss?” one said. “A prize for Kronosss!”
    I wasn’t in the mood to play break-the-snake, but in front of me was a stand with a model of the ship, like a YOU ARE HERE display. I ripped the model off the pedestal and hurled it at the first dracaena . The boat smacked her in her face and she went down with the ship. I jumped over her, grabbed her friend’s spear, and swung her around. She slammed into the elevator, and I kept running toward the front of the ship.
    “Get him!” she screamed.
    Hellhounds bayed. An arrow from somewhere whizzed past my face and impaled itself in the mahogany-paneled wall of the stairwell.
    I didn’t care—as long as I got the monsters away from the engine room and gave Beckendorf more time.
    As I was running up the stairwell, a kid charged down.
    He looked like he’d just woken up from a nap. His armor was half on. He drew his sword and yelled, “Kronos!” but he sounded more scared than angry. He couldn’t have been more than twelve—about the same age I was when I first went to Camp Half-Blood.
    That thought depressed me. This kid was getting brain-washed—trained to hate the gods and lash out because he’d been born half Olympian. Kronos was using him, and yet the kid thought I was his enemy.
    No way was I going to hurt him. I didn’t need a weapon for this. I stepped inside his strike and grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the wall. His sword clattered out of his hand.
    Then I did something I hadn’t planned on. It was probably stupid. It definitely jeopardized our mission, but I couldn’t help it.
    “If you want to live,” I told him, “get off this ship now . Tell the other demigods.” Then I shoved him downstairs and sent him tumbling to the next floor.
    I kept climbing.
    Bad memories: a hallway ran past the cafeteria. Annabeth, my half brother Tyson, and I had sneaked through here three years ago on my first visit.
    I burst outside onto the main deck. Off the port bow, the sky was darkening from purple to black. A swimming pool glowed between two glass towers with more balconies and restaurant decks. The whole upper ship seemed eerily deserted.
    All I had to do was cross to the other side. Then I could take the staircase down to the helipad—our emergency rendezvous point. With any luck, Beckendorf would meet me there. We’d jump into the sea. My water powers would protect us both, and we’d detonate the charges from a quarter mile away.
    I was halfway across the deck when the sound of a voice made me freeze. “You’re late, Percy.”
    Luke stood on the balcony above me, a smile on his scarred face. He wore jeans, a white T-shirt, and flip-flops, like he was just a normal college-age guy, but his eyes told the truth. They were solid gold.
    “We’ve been expecting you for days.” At first he sounded normal, like Luke. But then his face twitched. A shudder passed through his body like he’d just drunk something really nasty. His voice became heavier, ancient, and powerful—the voice of the Titan lord Kronos. The words scraped down my spine like a knife blade. “Come, bow before