The Titan's Curse

at her. I didn’t know if she was cracking under the stress or what. “Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There’s no way—”
    “He isn’t dead,” she insisted. “I know it. The same way you knew about me.”
    That comparison didn’t make me too happy.
    The towns were zipping by faster now, islands of light thicker together, until the whole landscape below was a glittering carpet. Dawn was close. The eastern sky was turning gray. And up ahead, a huge white-and-yellow glow spread out before us—the lights of New York.
    How’s that for speedy, boss? Blackjack bragged. We get extra hay for breakfast or what?
    “You’re the man, Blackjack,” I told him. “Er, the horse, I mean.”
    “You don’t believe me about Luke,” Annabeth said, “but we’ll see him again. He’s in trouble, Percy. He’s under Kronos’s spell.”
    I didn’t feel like arguing, though it made me mad. How could she still have any feelings for that creep? How could she possibly make excuses for him? He deserved that fall. He deserved . . . okay, I’ll say it. He deserved to die. Unlike Bianca. Unlike Zoë. Luke couldn’t be alive. It wouldn’t be fair.
    “There it is.” Thalia’s voice; she’d woken up. She was pointing toward Manhattan, which was quickly zooming into view. “It’s started.”
    “What’s started?” I asked.
    Then I looked where she was pointing. High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light, a floating mountain ablaze with torches and braziers, white marble palaces gleaming in the early morning air.
    “The winter solstice,” Thalia said. “The Council of the Gods.”

NINETEEN

THE GODS VOTE HOW TO KILL US
    Flying was bad enough for a son of Poseidon, but flying straight up to Zeus’s palace, with thunder and lightning swirling around it, was even worse.
    We circled over midtown Manhattan, making one complete orbit around Mount Olympus. I’d only been there once before, traveling by elevator up to the secret six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building. This time, if it was possible, Olympus amazed me even more.
    In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from bloodred to indigo. Apparently no one ever slept on Olympus. The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes. Winter didn’t seem to exist here. I caught the scent of the gardens in full bloom, jasmine and roses and even sweeter things I couldn’t name. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.
    Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.
    Our pegasi set us down in the outer courtyard, in front of huge silver gates. Before I could even think to knock, the gates opened by themselves.
    Good luck, boss, Blackjack said.
    “Yeah.” I didn’t know why, but I had a sense of doom. I’d never seen all the gods together. I knew any one of them could blast me to dust, and a few of them would like to.
    Hey, if ya don’t come back, can I have your cabin for my stable?
    I looked at the pegasus.
    Just a thought, he said. Sorry.
    Blackjack and his friends flew off, leaving Thalia, Annabeth, and me alone. For a minute we stood there regarding the palace, the way we’d stood together in front of Westover Hall, what seemed like a million years ago.
    And then, side by side, we walked into the throne room.
    Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at camp. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.
    All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall, and I’m telling you, if you’ve ever had a dozen all-powerful super-huge beings turn their eyes on you at once . . . Well, suddenly, facing monsters seemed like a picnic.
    “Welcome, heroes,” Artemis said.
    “Mooo!”
    That’s when I noticed Bessie and Grover.
    A sphere of water was hovering in the center of the room, next to the hearth fire. Bessie was swimming happily around, swishing his serpent tail and poking his head out the sides and bottom of the sphere. He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of swimming in a magic bubble. Grover was kneeling at Zeus’s throne, as if he’d just been giving a report, but when he saw us,