The Blood of Olympus (The Heroes of Olympus #5)(98)

‘I know.’ Annabeth’s expression was grim. ‘But it’s the most logical choice. The oldest shrines on the Acropolis are dedicated to Poseidon and Athena. Kekrops, wouldn’t that mask our approach?’

‘Yes,’ the snake king admitted. ‘Your … your scent would be difficult to discern. The ruins always radiate the power of those two gods.’

‘And me,’ Piper said at the end of her song. ‘You’ll need me to keep our friend here in line.’

Jason squeezed her hand. ‘I still hate the idea of splitting up.’

‘But it’s our best shot,’ Frank said. ‘The three of them sneak in and disable the onagers, cause a distraction. Then the rest of us fly in with ballistae blazing.’

‘Yes,’ Kekrops said, ‘that plan could work. If I do not kill you first.’

‘I’ve got an idea,’ Annabeth said. ‘Frank, Hazel, Leo … let’s talk. Piper, can you keep our friend musically incapacitated?’

Piper started a different song: ‘Happy Trails’, a silly tune her dad used to sing to her whenever they left Oklahoma to return to L.A. Annabeth, Leo, Frank and Hazel left to talk strategy.

‘Well.’ Percy rose and offered his hand to Jason. ‘Until we meet again at the Acropolis, bro. I’ll be the one killing giants.’

XLII

Piper

PIPER’S DAD USED TO SAY that being in the airport didn’t count as visiting a city. Piper felt the same way about sewers.

From the port to the Acropolis, she didn’t see anything of Athens except dark, putrid tunnels. The snake men led them through an iron storm grate at the docks, straight into their underground lair, which smelled of rotting fish, mould and snakeskin.

The atmosphere made it hard to sing about summertime and cotton and easy living, but Piper kept it up. If she stopped for longer than a minute or two, Kekrops and his guards started hissing and looking angry.

‘I don’t like this place,’ Annabeth murmured. ‘Reminds me of when I was underneath Rome.’

Kekrops hissed with laughter. ‘Our domain is much older. Much, much older.’

Annabeth slipped her hand into Percy’s, which made Piper feel downhearted. She wished Jason were with her. Heck, she’d even settle for Leo … though maybe she wouldn’t have held his hand. Leo’s hands tended to burst into flames when he was nervous.

Piper’s voice echoed through the tunnels. As they travelled further into the lair, more snake people gathered to hear her. Soon they had a procession following behind them – dozens of gemini all swaying and slithering.

Piper had lived up to her granddad’s prediction. She had learned the song of the snakes – which turned out to be a George Gershwin number from 1935. So far she had even kept the snake king from biting, just like in the old Cherokee story. The only problem with that legend: the warrior who learned the snake song had to sacrifice his wife for the power. Piper didn’t want to sacrifice anyone.

The vial of physician’s cure was still wrapped in its chamois cloth, tucked in her belt pouch. She hadn’t had time to consult with Jason and Leo before she left. She just had to hope they would all be reunited on the hilltop before anyone needed the cure. If one of them died and she couldn’t reach them …

Just keep singing, she told herself.

They passed through crude stone chambers littered with bones. They climbed slopes so steep and slippery it was nearly impossible to keep their footing. At one point, they passed a warm cave the size of a gymnasium filled with snake eggs, their tops covered with a layer of silver filaments like slimy Christmas tinsel.

More and more snake people joined their procession. Slithering behind her, they sounded like an army of football players shuffling with sandpaper on their cleats.

Piper wondered how many gemini lived down here. Hundreds, maybe thousands.

She thought she heard her own heartbeat echoing through the corridors, getting louder and louder the deeper they went. Then she realized the persistent boom ba-boom was all around them, resonating through the stone and the air.

I wake. A woman’s voice, as clear as Piper’s singing.

Annabeth froze. ‘Oh, that’s not good.’

‘It’s like Tartarus,’ Percy said, his voice edgy. ‘You remember … his heartbeat. When he appeared –’

‘Don’t,’ Annabeth said. ‘Just don’t.’

‘Sorry.’ In the light of his sword, Percy’s face was like a large firefly – a hovering, momentary smudge of brightness in the dark.

The voice of Gaia spoke again, louder: At last.

Piper’s singing wavered.

Fear washed over her, as it had in the Spartan temple. But the gods Phobos and Deimos were old friends to her now. She let the fear burn inside her like fuel, making her voice even stronger. She sang for the snake people, for her friends’ safety. Why not for Gaia, too?

Finally they reached the top of a steep slope, where the path ended in a curtain of green goo.

Kekrops faced the demigods. ‘Beyond this camouflage is the Acropolis. You must remain here. I will check that your way is clear.’

‘Wait.’ Piper turned to address the crowd of gemini. ‘There is only death above. You will be safer in the tunnels. Hurry back. Forget you saw us. Protect yourselves.’

The fear in her voice channelled perfectly with the charmspeak. The snake people, even the guards, turned and slithered into the darkness, leaving only the king.