The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians #5)(22)

I looked back toward the camp. Even from this distance I could hear the Ares and Apollo campers fighting again, yelling curses and spouting bad poetry.

"They're no match for the Titan army," Nico said. "You know that. This comes down to you and Luke. And there's only one way you can beat Luke."

I remembered the fight on the Princess Andromeda. I'd been hopelessly outmatched. Kronos had almost killed me with a single cut to my arm, and I couldn't even wound him. Riptide had glanced right off his skin.

"We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade . . ."

I wondered how Nico had heard the prophecy— probably from some ghost.

"You can't prevent a prophecy," I said.

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light in his eyes. "You can become invincible."

"Maybe we should wait. Try to fight without—"

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!"

I stared at him. I hadn't seen his temper flare like that in a long time. "Urn, you sure you're okay?"

He took a deep breath. "Percy, all I mean . . . when the fighting starts, we won't be able to make the journey. This is our last chance. I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy, but two years ago my sister gave her life to protect you. I want you to honor that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos."

I didn't like the idea. Then I thought about Annabeth calling me a coward, and I got angry.

Nico had a point. If Kronos attacked New York, the campers would be no match for his forces. I had to do something. Nico's way was dangerous—maybe even deadly. But it might give me a fighting edge.

"All right," I decided. "What do we do first?"

His cold creepy smile made me sorry I'd agreed. "First we'll need to retrace Luke's steps. We need to know more about his past, his childhood."

I shuddered, thinking about Rachel's picture from my dream—a smiling nine-year-old Luke. "Why do we need to know about that?"

"I'll explain when we get there," Nico said. "I've already tracked down his mother. She lives in Connecticut."

I stared at him. I'd never thought much about Luke's mortal parent. I'd met his dad, Hermes, but his mom . . .

"Luke ran away when he was really young," I said. "I didn't think his mom was alive."

"Oh, she's alive." The way he said it made me wonder what was wrong with her. What kind of horrible person could she be?

"Okay . . ." I said. "So how do we get to Connecticut? I can call Blackjack—"

"No." Nico scowled. "Pegasi don't like me, and the feeling is mutual. But there's no need for flying." He whistled, and Mrs. O'Leary came loping out of the woods.

"Your friend here can help." Nico patted her head. "You haven't tried shadow travel yet?"

"Shadow travel?"

Nico whispered in Mrs. O'Leary's ear. She tilted her head, suddenly alert.

"Hop on board," Nico told me.

I'd never considered riding a dog before, bur Mrs. O'Leary was certainly big enough. I climbed onto her back and held her collar.

"This will make her very tired," Nico warned, "so you can't do it often. And it works best at night. But all shadows are part of the same substance. There is only one darkness, and creatures of the Underworld can use it as a road, or a door."

"I don't understand," I said.

"No," Nico said. "It took me a long time to learn. But Mrs. O'Leary knows. Tell her where to go. Tell her Westport, the home of May Castellan."

"You're not coming?"

"Don't worry," he said. "I'll meet you there."

I was a little nervous, but I leaned down to Mrs. O'Leary's ear. "Okay, girl. Uh, can you take me to Westport, Connecticut? May Castellan's place?"

Mrs. O'Leary sniffed the air. She looked into the gloom of the forest. Then she bounded forward, straight into an oak tree.

Just before we hit, we passed into shadows as cold as the dark side of the moon.

SIX

MY COOKIES GET

SCORCHED

I don't recommend shadow travel if you're scared of:

a) The dark

b) Cold shivers up your spine

c) Strange noises

d) Going so fast you feel like your face is peeling off

In other words, I thought it was awesome. One minute I couldn't see anything. I could only feel Mrs. O'Leary's fur and my fingers wrapped around the bronze links of her dog collar.

The next minute the shadows melted into a new scene. We were on a cliff in the woods of Connecticut. At least, it looked like Connecticut from the few times I'd been there: lots of trees, low stone walls, big houses. Down one side of the cliff, a highway cut through a ravine. Down the other side was someone's backyard. The property was huge—more wilderness than lawn. The house was a two-story white Colonial. Despite the fact that it was right on the other side of the hill from a highway, it felt like it was in the middle of nowhere. I could see a light glowing in the kitchen window. A rusty old swing set stood under an apple tree.

I couldn't imagine living in a house like this, with an actual yard and everything. I'd lived in a tiny apartment or a school dorm my whole life. If this was Luke's home, I wondered why he'd ever wanted to leave.