The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(26)

Annabeth fixed her eyes on Chiron. “Why are you so quiet, Chiron? What is it we’re facing?”

The old centaur’s face looked like it had aged ten years in a matter of minutes. The lines around his eyes were deeply etched. “My dear, in this, I cannot help you. I am so sorry.”

Annabeth blinked. “You’ve never … you’ve never kept information from me. Even the last great prophecy—”

“I will be in my office.” His voice was heavy. “I need some time to think before dinner. Rachel, will you watch the girl? Call Argus to bring her to the infirmary, if you’d like. And Annabeth, you should speak with Jason. Tell him about—about the Greek and Roman gods.”

“But …”

The centaur turned his wheelchair and rolled off down the hallway. Annabeth’s eyes turned stormy. She muttered something in Greek, and Jason got the feeling it wasn’t complimentary toward centaurs.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I think my being here—I don’t know. I’ve messed things up coming to the camp, somehow. Chiron said he’d sworn an oath and couldn’t talk about it.”

“What oath?” Annabeth demanded. “I’ve never seen him act this way. And why would he tell me to talk to you about the gods...”

Her voice trailed off. Apparently she’d just noticed Jason’s sword sitting on the coffee table. She touched the blade gingerly, like it might be hot.

“Is this gold?” she said. “Do you remember where you got it?”

“No,” Jason said. “Like I said, I don’t remember anything.”

Annabeth nodded, like she’d just come up with a rather desperate plan. “If Chiron won’t help, we’ll need to figure things out ourselves. Which means … Cabin Fifteen. Rachel, you’ll keep an eye on Piper?”

“Sure,” Rachel promised. “Good luck, you two.”

“Hold on,” Jason said. “What’s in Cabin Fifteen?”

Annabeth stood. “Maybe a way to get your memory back.”

They headed toward a newer wing of cabins in the southwest corner of the green. Some were fancy, with glowing walls or blazing torches, but Cabin Fifteen was not so dramatic. It looked like an old-fashioned prairie house with mud walls and a rush roof. On the door hung a wreath of crimson flowers—red poppies, Jason thought, though he wasn’t sure how he knew.

“You think this is my parent’s cabin?” he asked.

“No,” Annabeth said. “This is the cabin for Hypnos, the god of sleep.”

“Then why—”

“You’ve forgotten everything,” she said. “If there’s any god who can help us figure out memory loss, it’s Hypnos.”

Inside, even though it was almost dinnertime, three kids were sound asleep under piles of covers. A warm fire crackled in the hearth. Above the mantel hung a tree branch, each twig dripping white liquid into a collection of tin bowls. Jason was tempted to catch a drop on his finger just to see what it was, but he held himself back.

Soft violin music played from somewhere. The air smelled like fresh laundry. The cabin was so cozy and peaceful that Jason’s eyelids started to feel heavy. A nap sounded like a great idea. He was exhausted. There were plenty of empty beds, all with feather pillows and fresh sheets and fluffy quilts and—Annabeth nudged him. “Snap out of it.”

Jason blinked. He realized his knees had been starting to buckle.

“Cabin Fifteen does that to everyone,” Annabeth warned. “If you ask me, this place is even more dangerous than the Ares cabin. At least with Ares, you can learn where the land mines are.”

“Land mines?”

She walked up to the nearest snoring kid and shook his shoulder. “Clovis! Wake up!”

The kid looked like a baby cow. He had a blond tuft of hair on a wedge-shaped head, with thick features and a thick neck. His body was stocky, but he had spindly little arms like he’d never lifted anything heavier than a pillow.

“Clovis!” Annabeth shook harder, then finally knocked on his forehead about six times.

“Wh-wh-what?” Clovis complained, sitting up and squinting. He yawned hugely, and both Annabeth and Jason yawned too.

“Stop that!” Annabeth said. “We need your help.”

“I was sleeping.”

“You’re always sleeping.”

“Good night.”

Before he could pass out, Annabeth yanked his pillow offthe bed.

“That’s not fair,” Clovis complained meekly. “Give it back.”

“First help,” Annabeth said. “Then sleep.”

Clovis sighed. His breath smelled like warm milk. “Fine. What?”

Annabeth explained about Jason’s problem. Every once in a while she’d snap her fingers under Clovis’s nose to keep him awake.

Clovis must have been really excited, because when Annabeth was done, he didn’t pass out. He actually stood and stretched, then blinked at Jason. “So you don’t remember anything, huh?”

“Just impressions,” Jason said. “Feelings, like …”

“Yes?” Clovis said.

“Like I know I shouldn’t be here. At this camp. I’m in danger.”

“Hmm. Close your eyes.”