The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(12)

Usually when someone asked that question, Piper started a fight, or changed the subject, or caused some kind of distraction. But for some reason she found herself telling the truth.

“I steal stuff,” she said. “Well, not really steal …”

“Is your family poor?”

Piper laughed bitterly. “Not even. I did it … I don’t know why. For attention, I guess. My dad never had time for me unless I got in trouble.”

Annabeth nodded. “I can relate. But you said you didn’t really steal? What do you mean?”

“Well … nobody ever believes me. The police, teachers—even the people I took stuff from: they’re so embarrassed, they’ll deny what happened. But the truth is, I don’t steal anything. I just ask people for things. And they give me stuff. Even a BMW convertible. I just asked. And the dealer said, ‘Sure. Take it.’ Later, he realized what he’d done, I guess. Then the police came after me.”

Piper waited. She was used to people calling her a liar, but when she looked up, Annabeth just nodded.

“Interesting. If your dad were the god, I’d say you’re a child of Hermes, god of thieves. He can be pretty convincing. But your dad is mortal…”

“Very,” Piper agreed.

Annabeth shook her head, apparently mystified. “I don’t know, then. With luck, your mom will claim you tonight.”

Piper almost hoped it wouldn’t happen. If her mom were a goddess, would she know about that dream? Would she know what Piper had been asked to do? Piper wondered if Olympian gods ever blasted their kids with lightning for being evil, or grounded them in the Underworld.

Annabeth was studying her. Piper decided she was going to have to be careful what she said from now on. Annabeth was obviously pretty smart. If anyone could figure out Piper’s secret …

“Come on,” Annabeth said at last. “There’s something else I need to check.”

They hiked a little farther until they reached a cave near the top of the hill. Bones and old swords littered the ground. Torches flanked the entrance, which was covered in a velvet curtain embroidered with snakes. It looked like the set for some kind of twisted puppet show.

“What’s in there?” Piper asked.

Annabeth poked her head inside, then sighed and closed the curtains. “Nothing, right now. A friend’s place. I’ve been expecting her for a few days, but so far, nothing.”

“Your friend lives in a cave?”

Annabeth almost managed a smile. “Actually, her family has a luxury condo in Queens, and she goes to a finishing school in Connecticut. But when she’s here at camp, yeah, she lives in the cave. She’s our oracle, tells the future. I was hoping she could help me—”

“Find Percy,” Piper guessed.

All the energy drained out of Annabeth, like she’d been holding it together for as long as she could. She sat down on a rock, and her expression was so full of pain, Piper felt like a voyeur.

She forced herself to look away. Her eyes drifted to the crest of the hill, where a single pine tree dominated the skyline. Something glittered in its lowest branch—like a fuzzy gold bath mat.

No … not a bath mat. It was a sheep’s fleece.

Okay, Piper thought. Greek camp. They’ve got a replica of the Golden Fleece.

Then she noticed the base of the tree. At first she thought it was wrapped in a pile of massive purple cables. But the cables had reptilian scales, clawed feet, and a snakelike head with yellow eyes and smoking nostrils.

“That’s—a dragon,” she stammered. “That’s the actual Golden Fleece?”

Annabeth nodded, but it was clear she wasn’t really listening. Her shoulders drooped. She rubbed her face and took a shaky breath. “Sorry. A little tired.”

“You look ready to drop,” Piper said. “How long have been searching for your boyfriend?”

“Three days, six hours, and about twelve minutes.”

“And you’ve got no idea what happened to him?”

Annabeth shook her head miserably. “We were so excited because we both started winter break early. We met up at camp on Tuesday, figured we had three weeks together. It was going to be great. Then after the campfire, he—he kissed me good night, went back to his cabin, and in the morning, he was gone. We searched the whole camp. We contacted his mom. We’ve tried to reach him every way we know how. Nothing. He just disappeared.”

Piper was thinking: Three days ago. The same night she’d had her dream. “How long were you guys together?”

“Since August,” Annabeth said. “August eighteenth.”

“Almost exactly when I met Jason,” Piper said. “But we’ve only been together a few weeks.”

Annabeth winced. “Piper … about that. Maybe you should sit down.”

Piper knew where this was going. Panic started building inside her, like her lungs were filling with water. “Look, I know Jason thought—he thought he just appeared at our school today. But that’s not true. I’ve known him for four months.”

“Piper,” Annabeth said sadly. “It’s the Mist.”

“Missed … what?”

“M-i-s-t. It’s a kind of veil separating the mortal world from the magic world. Mortal minds—they can’t process strange stuff like gods and monsters, so the Mist bends reality. It makes mortals see things in a way they can understand —like their eyes might just skip over this valley completely, or they might look at that dragon and see a pile of cables.”