The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus, #5)(27)

Hazel sniffed. ‘How romantic. “Nice wife you have, Prince Pelops.” “Thanks. I won her in a chariot race.” ’

Leo didn’t see how any of this was helping them find the victory goddess. At the moment, the only victory he wanted was to vanquish an ice-cold drink and maybe some nachos.

Still … the further they got into the ruins, the more uneasy he felt. He flashed back to one of his earliest memories – his babysitter Tía Callida, a.k.a. Hera, encouraging him to prod a poisonous snake with a stick when he was four years old. The psycho goddess told him it was good training for being a hero, and maybe she’d been right. These days Leo spent most of his time poking around until he found trouble.

He scanned the crowds of tourists, wondering if they were regular mortals or monsters in disguise, like those eidolons who’d chased them in Rome. Every so often he thought he saw a familiar face – his bully cousin, Raphael; his mean third-grade teacher, Mr Borquin; his abusive foster mom, Teresa – all kinds of people who had treated Leo like dirt.

Probably he just imagined their faces, but it made him edgy. He remembered how the goddess Nemesis had appeared as his Aunt Rosa, the person Leo most resented and wanted revenge on. He wondered if Nemesis was around here somewhere, watching to see what Leo would do. He still wasn’t sure he’d paid his debt to that goddess. He suspected she wanted more suffering from him. Maybe today was the day.

They stopped at some wide steps leading to another ruined building – the Temple of Zeus, according to Frank.

‘Used to be a huge gold-and-ivory statue of Zeus inside,’ Zhang said. ‘One of the seven wonders of the ancient world. Made by the same dude who did the Athena Parthenos.’

‘Please tell me we don’t have to find it,’ Percy said. ‘I’ve had enough huge magic statues for one trip.’

‘Agreed.’ Hazel patted Arion’s flank, as the stallion was acting skittish.

Leo felt like whinnying and stomping his hooves, too. He was hot and agitated and hungry. He felt like they’d prodded the poisonous snake about as much as they could and the snake was about strike back. He wanted to call it a day and return to the ship before that happened.

Unfortunately, when Frank mentioned Temple of Zeus and statue, Leo’s brain had made a connection. Against his better judgement, he shared it.

‘Hey, Percy,’ he said, ‘remember that statue of Nike in the museum? The one that was all in pieces?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Didn’t it used to stand here, at the Temple of Zeus? Feel free to tell me I’m wrong. I’d love to be wrong.’

Percy’s hand went to his pocket. He slipped out his pen, Riptide. ‘You’re right. So if Nike was anywhere … this would be a good spot.’

Frank scanned their surroundings. ‘I don’t see anything.’

‘What if we promoted, like, Adidas shoes?’ Percy wondered. ‘Would that make Nike mad enough to show up?’

Leo smiled nervously. Maybe he and Percy did share something else – a stupid sense of humour. ‘Yeah, I bet that would totally be against her sponsorship deal. THOSE ARE NOT THE OFFICIAL SHOES OF THE OLYMPICS! YOU WILL DIE NOW!’

Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘You’re both impossible.’

Behind Leo, a thunderous voice shook the ruins: ‘YOU WILL DIE NOW!’

Leo almost jumped out of his tool belt. He turned … and mentally kicked himself. He just had to invoke Adidas, the goddess of off-brand shoes.

Towering over him in a golden chariot, with a spear aimed at his heart, was the goddess Nike.





XI


Leo


THE GOLD WINGS WERE OVERKILL.

Leo could dig the chariot and the two white horses. He was okay with Nike’s glittering sleeveless dress (Calypso totally rocked that style, but that wasn’t relevant) and Nike’s piled-up braids of dark hair circled with a gilded laurel wreath.

Her expression was wide-eyed and a little crazy, like she’d just had twenty espressos and ridden a roller coaster, but that didn’t bother Leo. He could even deal with the gold-tipped spear pointed at his chest.

But those wings – they were polished gold, right down to the last feather. Leo could admire the intricate workmanship, but it was too much, too bright, too flashy. If her wings had been solar panels, Nike would’ve produced enough energy to power Miami.

‘Lady,’ he said, ‘could you fold your flappers, please? You’re giving me a sunburn.’

‘What?’ Nike’s head jerked towards him like a startled chicken’s. ‘Oh … my brilliant plumage. Very well. I suppose you can’t die in glory if you are blinded and burned.’

She tucked in her wings. The temperature dropped to a normal hundred-and-twenty-degree summer afternoon.

Leo glanced at his friends. Frank stood very still, sizing up the goddess. His backpack hadn’t yet morphed into a bow and quiver, which was probably prudent. He couldn’t have been too freaked out, because he’d avoided turning into a giant goldfish.

Hazel was having trouble with Arion. The roan stallion nickered and bucked, avoiding eye contact with the white horses pulling Nike’s chariot.

As for Percy, he held his magic ballpoint pen like he was trying to decide whether to bust out some sword moves or autograph Nike’s chariot.