The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians #5)(37)

It sounded eerily close to what Achilles had told me. Then I remembered Chiron had taught Achilles. That didn't exactly reassure me, but I nodded and tried to give him a confident smile.

"Let's go," I told the campers.

A security guard was sitting behind the desk in the lobby, reading a big black book with a flower on the cover. He glanced up when we all filed in with our weapons and armor clanking. "School group? We're about to close up."

"No," I said. "Six-hundredth floor."

He checked us out. His eyes were pale blue and his head was completely bald. I couldn't tell if he was human or not, but he seemed to notice our weapons, so I guess he wasn't fooled by the Mist.

"There is no six-hundredth floor, kid." He said it like it was a required line he didn't believe. "Move along."

I leaned across the desk. "Forty demigods attract an awful lot of monsters. You really want us hanging out in your lobby?"

He thought about that. Then he hit a buzzer and the security gate swung open. "Make it quick."

"You don't want us going through the metal detectors," I added.

"Um, no," he agreed. "Elevator on the right. I guess you know the way."

I tossed him a golden drachma and we marched ill rough.

We decided it would take two trips to get everybody up in the elevator. I went with the first group. Different elevator music was playing since my last visit—that old disco song "Stayin' Alive." A terrifying image flashed through my mind of Apollo in bell-bottom pants and a slinky silk shirt.

I was glad when the elevator doors finally dinged open. In front of us, a path of floating stones led through the clouds up to Mount Olympus, hovering six thousand feet over Manhattan.

I'd seen Olympus several times, but it still took my breath away. The mansions glittered gold and white against the sides of the mountain. Gardens bloomed on a hundred terraces. Scented smoke rose from braziers that lined the winding streets. And right at the top of the snow-capped crest rose the main palace of the gods. It looked as majestic as ever, but something seemed wrong. Then I realized the mountain was silent—no music, no voices, no laughter.

Annabeth studied me. "You look . . . different," she decided. "Where exactly did you go?"

The elevator doors opened again, and the second group of half-bloods joined us.

"Tell you later," I said. "Come on."

We made our way across the sky bridge into the streets of Olympus. The shops were closed. The parks were empty. A couple of Muses sat on a bench strumming flaming lyres, but their hearts didn't seem to be in it. A lone Cyclops swept the street with an uprooted oak tree. A minor godling spotted us from a balcony and ducked inside, closing his shutters.

We passed under a big marble archway with statues of Zeus and Hera on either side. Annabeth made a face at the queen of the gods.

"Hate her," she muttered.

"Has she been cursing you or something?" I asked. Last year Annabeth had gotten on Hera's bad side, but Annabeth hadn't really talked about it since.

"Just little stuff so far," she said. "Her sacred animal is the cow, right?"

"Right."

"So she sends cows after me."

I tried not to smile. "Cows? In San Francisco?"

"Oh, yeah. Usually I don't see them, but the cows leave me little presents all over the place—in our backyard, on the sidewalk, in the school hallways. I have to be careful where I step."

"Look!" Pollux cried, pointing toward the horizon. "What is that?"

We all froze. Blue lights were streaking across the evening sky toward Olympus like tiny comets. They seemed to be coming from all over the city, heading straight toward the mountain. As they got close, they fizzled out. We watched them for several minutes and they didn't seem to do any damage, but still it was strange.

"Like infrared scopes," Michael Yew muttered. "We're being targeted."

"Let's get to the palace," I said.

No one was guarding the hall of the gods. The gold-and-silver doors stood wide open. Our footsteps echoed as we walked into the throne room.

Of course, "room" doesn't really cover it. The place was the size of Madison Square Garden. High above, the blue ceiling glittered with constellations. Twelve giant empty thrones stood in a U around a hearth. In one corner, a house-size globe of water hovered in the air, and inside swam my old friend the Ophiotaurus, half-cow, half-serpent.

"Moooo!" he said happily, turning in a circle.

Despite all the serious stuff going on, I had to smile. Two years ago we'd spent a lot of time trying to save the Ophiotaurus from the Titans, and I'd gotten kind of fond of him. He seemed to like me too, even though I'd originally thought he was a girl and named him Bessie.

"Hey, man," I said. "They treating you okay?"

"Mooo," Bessie answered.

We walked toward the thrones, and a woman's voice said, "Hello again, Percy Jackson. You and your friends are welcome."

Hestia stood by the hearth, poking the flames with a stick. She wore the same kind of simple brown dress as she had before, but she was a grown woman now.

I bowed. "Lady Hestia."

My friends followed my example.

Hestia regarded me with her red glowing eyes. "I see you went through with your plan. You bear the curse of Achilles."