The Last Olympian (Percy Jackson and the Olympians #5)(77)

"There are no reinforcements," Connor complained.

I looked outside at Mrs. O'Leary, who was breathing against the glass doors and smearing them with hellhound drool.

"Maybe that's not true," I said.

I went outside and put a hand on Mrs. O'Leary s muzzle. Chiron had bandaged her paw, but she was still limping. Her fur was matted with mud, leaves, pizza slices, and dried monster blood.

"Hey, girl." I tried to sound upbeat. "I know you're tired, but I've got one more big favor to ask you." I leaned next to her and whispered in her ear.

After Mrs. O'Leary shadow-traveled away, I rejoined Annabeth in the lobby. On the way to the elevator, we spotted Grover kneeling over a fat wounded satyr.

"Leneus!" I said.

The old satyr looked terrible. His lips were blue. There was a broken spear in his belly, and his furry goat legs were twisted at a painful angle.

He tried to focus on us, but I don't think he saw us.

"Grover?" he murmured.

"I'm here, Leneus." Grover was blinking back tears, despite all the horrible things Leneus had said about him.

"Did . . . did we win?"

"Um . . . yes," Grover lied. "Thanks to you, Leneus. We drove the enemy away."

"Told you," the old satyr mumbled. "True leader. True . . ."

He closed his eyes for the last time.

Grover gulped. He put his hand on Leneus's forehead and spoke an ancient blessing. The old satyr's body melted, until all that was left was a tiny sapling in a pile of fresh soil.

"A laurel," Grover said in awe. "Oh, that lucky old goat."

He gathered up the sapling in his hands. "I . . . I should plant him. In Olympus, in the gardens."

"We're going that way," I said. "Come on."

Easy-listening music played as the elevator rose. I thought about the first time I'd visited Mount Olympus, back when I was twelve. Annabeth and Grover hadn't been with me then. I was glad they were with me now. I had a feeling it might be our last adventure together.

"Percy," Annabeth said quietly. "You were right about Luke." It was the first time she'd spoken since Silena Beauregard's death. She kept her eyes fixed on the elevator floors as they blinked into the magical numbers: 400, 450, 500.

Grover and I exchanged glances.

"Annabeth," I said. "I'm sorry—"

"You tried to tell me." Her voice was shaky. "Luke is no good. I didn't believe you until . . . until I heard how he'd used Silena. Now I know. I hope you're happy."

"That doesn't make me happy."

She put her head against the elevator wall and wouldn't look at me.

Grover cradled his laurel sapling in his hands. "Well . . . sure good to be together again. Arguing. Almost dying. Abject terror. Oh, look. It's our floor."

The doors dinged and we stepped onto the aerial walkway.

Depressing is not a word that usually describes Mount Olympus, but it looked that way now. No fires lit the braziers. The windows were dark. The streets were deserted and the doors were barred. The only movement was in the parks, which had been set up as field hospitals. Will Solace and the other Apollo campers scrambled around, caring for the wounded. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using nature magic songs to heal burns and poison.

As Grover planted the laurel sapling, Annabeth and I went around trying to cheer up the wounded. I passed a satyr with a broken leg, a demigod who was bandaged from head to toe, and a body covered in the golden burial shroud of Apollo's cabin. I didn't know who was underneath. I didn't want to find out.

My heart felt like lead, but we tried to find positive things to say.

"You'll be up and fighting Titans in no time!" I told one camper.

"You look great," Annabeth told another camper.

"Leneus turned into a shrub!" Grover told a groaning satyr.

I found Dionysus's son Pollux propped up against a tree. He had a broken arm, but otherwise he was okay.

"I can still fight with the other hand," he said, gritting his teeth.

"No," I said. "You've done enough. I want you to stay here and help with the wounded."

"But—"

"Promise me to stay safe," I said. "Okay? Personal favor."

He frowned uncertainly. It wasn't like we were good friends or anything, but I wasn't going to tell him it was a request from his dad. That would just embarrass him. Finally he promised, and when he sat back down, I could tell he was kind of relieved.

Annabeth, Grover, and I kept walking toward the palace. That's where Kronos would head. As soon as he made it up the elevator—and I had no doubt he would, one way or another—he would destroy the throne room, the center of the gods' power.

The bronze doors creaked open. Our footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The constellations twinkled coldly on the ceiling of the great hall. The hearth was down to a dull red glow. Hestia, in the form of a little girl in brown robes, hunched at its edge, shivering. The Ophiotaurus swam sadly in his sphere of water. He let out a half-hearted moo when he saw me.

In the firelight, the thrones cast evil-looking shadows, like grasping hands.

Standing at the foot of Zeus's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was holding a Greek ceramic vase.