The Last Olympian

whinnied, You smell like ham! He kicked the pig in the snout with his back hooves and went into a steep dive. The pig screamed in rage and followed.
    We barreled straight for the front steps of the library. Blackjack slowed down just enough for me to hop off, then he kept flying toward the main doors.
    I yelled out, “Lions! Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Kill Flying Pigs! Begin Activation!”
    The lions stood up and looked at me. They probably thought I was teasing them. But just then: “REEEEEET!”
    The massive pink pork monster landed with a thud, cracking the sidewalk. The lions stared at it, not believing their luck, and pounced. At the same time, a very beat-up Hermes statue leaped onto the pig’s head and started banging it mercilessly with a caduceus. Those lions had some nasty claws.
    I drew Riptide, but there wasn’t much for me to do. The pig disintegrated before my eyes. I almost felt sorry for it. I hoped it got to meet the boar of its dreams down in Tartarus.
    When the monster had completely turned to dust, the lions and the Hermes statue looked around in confusion.
    “You can defend Manhattan now,” I told them, but they didn’t seem to hear. They went charging down Park Avenue, and I imagined they would keep looking for flying pigs until someone deactivated them.
    Hey, boss, said Blackjack. Can we take a donut break?
    I wiped the sweat off my brow. “I wish, big guy, but the fight’s still going on.”
    In fact, I could hear it getting closer. My friends needed help. I jumped on Blackjack and we flew north toward the sound of explosions.

FIFTEEN

CHIRON THROWS A
PARTY
    Midtown was a war zone. We flew over little skirmishes everywhere. A giant was ripping up trees in Bryant Park while dryads pelted him with nuts. Outside the Waldorf Astoria, a bronze statue of Benjamin Franklin was whacking a hellhound with a rolled-up newspaper. A trio of Hephaestus campers fought a squad of dracaenae in the middle of Rockefeller Center.
    I was tempted to stop and help, but I could tell from the smoke and noise that the real action had moved farther south. Our defenses were collapsing. The enemy was closing in on the Empire State Building.
    We did a quick sweep of the surrounding area. The Hunters had set up a defensive line on 37th, just two blocks north of Olympus. To the east on Park Avenue, Jake Mason and some other Hephaestus campers were leading an army of statues against the enemy. To the west, the Demeter cabin and Grover’s nature spirits had turned Sixth Avenue into a jungle that was hampering a squadron of Kronos’s demigods. The south was clear for now, but the flanks of the enemy army were swinging around. A few more minutes and we’d be totally surrounded.
    “We have to land where they need us most,” I muttered.
    That’s everywhere, boss.
    I spotted a familiar silver owl banner in the southeast corner of the fight, 33rd at the Park Avenue tunnel. Annabeth and two of her siblings were holding back a Hyperborean giant.
    “There!” I told Blackjack. He plunged toward the battle.
    I leaped off his back and landed on the giant’s head. When the giant looked up, I slid off his face, shield-bashing his nose on the way down.
    “RAWWWR!” The giant staggered backward, blue blood trickling from his nostrils.
    I hit the pavement running. The Hyperborean breathed a cloud of white mist, and the temperature dropped. The spot where I’d landed was now coated with ice, and I was covered in frost like a sugar donut.
    “Hey, ugly!” Annabeth yelled. I hoped she was talking to the giant, not me.
    Blue Boy bellowed and turned toward her, exposing the unprotected back of his legs. I charged and stabbed him behind the knee.
    “WAAAAH!” The Hyperborean buckled. I waited for him to turn, but he froze. I mean he literally turned to solid ice. From the point where I’d stabbed him, cracks appeared in his body. They got larger and wider until the giant crumbled in a mountain of blue shards.
    “Thanks.” Annabeth winced, trying to catch her breath. “The pig?”
    “Pork chops,” I said.
    “Good.” She flexed her shoulder. Obviously, the wound was still bothering her, but she saw my expression and rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Percy. Come on! We’ve got plenty of enemies left.”
    She was right. The next hour was a blur. I fought like I’d never fought before—wading into legions of dracaenae , taking out dozens of telkhines with every strike, destroying empousai and knocking out