The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians #5)(35)

The cord strengthened.

I could see Annabeth now—standing barefoot above me on the canoe lake pier. I'd fallen out of my canoe. That was it. She was reaching out her hand to haul me up, and she was trying not to laugh. She wore her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange because that should have made her invisible.

"You are such an idiot sometimes." She smiled. "Come on. Take my hand."

Memories came flooding back to me—sharper and more colorful. I stopped dissolving. My name was Percy Jackson. I reached up and took Annabeth's hand.

Suddenly I burst out of the river. I collapsed on the sand, and Nico scrambled back in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he stammered. "Your skin. Oh, gods. You're hurt!"

My arms were bright red. I felt like every inch of my body had been broiled over a slow flame.

I looked around for Annabeth, though I knew she wasn't here. It had seemed so real.

"I'm fine . . . I think." The color of my skin turned back to normal. The pain subsided. Mrs. O'Leary came up and sniffed me with concern. Apparently I smelled really interesting.

"Do you feel stronger?" Nico asked.

Before I could decide what I felt, a voice boomed, "THERE!"

An army of the dead marched toward us. A hundred skeletal Roman legionnaires led the way with shields and spears. Behind them came an equal number of British redcoats with bayonets fixed. In the middle of the host, Hades himself rode a black-and-gold chariot pulled by nightmare horses, their eyes and manes smoldering with fire.

"You will not escape me this time, Percy Jackson!" Hades bellowed. "Destroy him!"

"Father, no!" Nico shouted, but it was too late. The front line of Roman zombies lowered their spears and advanced.

Mrs. O'Leary growled and got ready to pounce. Maybe that's what set me off. I didn't want them hurting my dog. Plus, I was tired of Hades being a big bully. If I was going to die, I might as well go down fighting.

I yelled, and the River Styx exploded. A black tidal wave smashed into the legionnaires. Spears and shields flew everywhere. Roman zombies began to dissolve, smoke coming off their bronze helmets.

The redcoats lowered their bayonets, but I didn't wait for them. I charged.

It was the stupidest thing I've ever done. A hundred muskets fired at me, point blank. All of them missed. I crashed into their line and started hacking with Riptide. Bayonets jabbed. Swords slashed. Guns reloaded and fired. Nothing touched me.

I whirled through the ranks, slashing redcoats to dust, one after the other. My mind went on autopilot: stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Riptide was no longer a sword. It was an arc of pure destruction.

I broke through the enemy line and leaped into the black chariot. Hades raised his staff. A bolt of dark energy shot toward me, but I deflected it off my blade and slammed into him. The god and I both tumbled out of the chariot.

The next thing I knew, my knee was planted on Hades's chest. I was holding the collar of his royal robes in one fist, and the tip of my sword was poised right over his face.

Silence. The army did nothing to defend their master. I glanced back and realized why. There was nothing left of them but weapons in the sand and piles of smoking, empty uniforms. I had destroyed them all.

Hades swallowed. "Now, Jackson, listen here. . . ."

He was immortal. There was no way I could kill him, but gods can be wounded. I knew that firsthand, and I figured a sword in the face wouldn't feel too good.

"Just because I'm a nice person," I snarled, "I'll let you go. But first, tell me about that trap!"

Hades melted into nothing, leaving me holding empty black robes.

I cursed and got to my feet, breathing heavily. Now that the danger was over, I realized how tired I was. Every muscle in my body ached. I looked down at my clothes. They were slashed to pieces and full of bullet holes, but I was fine. Not a mark on me.

Nico's mouth hung open. "You just . . . with a sword . . . you just—"

"I think the river thing worked," I said.

"Oh gee," he said sarcastically. "You think?"

Mrs. O'Leary barked happily and wagged her tail. She bounded around, sniffing empty uniforms and hunting for bones. I lifted Hades's robe. I could still see the tormented faces shimmering in the fabric.

I walked to the edge of the river. "Be free."

I dropped the robe in the water and watched as it swirled away, dissolving in the current.

"Go back to your father," I told Nico. "Tell him he owes me for letting him go. Find out what's going to happen to Mount Olympus and convince him to help."

Nico stared at me. "I . . . I can't. He'll hate me now. I mean . . . even more."

"You have to," I said. "You owe me too."

His ears turned red. "Percy, I told you I was sorry. Please . . . let me come with you. I want to fight."

"You'll be more help down here."

"You mean you don't trust me anymore," he said miserably.

I didn't answer. I didn't know what I meant. I was too stunned by what I'd just done in battle to think clearly.

"Just go back to your father," I said, trying not to sound too harsh. "Work on him. You're the only person who might be able to get him to listen."