The Lost Hero (The Heroes of Olympus #1)(61)

They’d spread their sleeping bags and listened to the cicadas buzzing in the trees. Piper pointed out the constellations she’d been reading about—Hercules, Apollo’s lyre, Sagittarius the centaur.

Her dad crossed his arms behind his head. In his old T-shirt and jeans he looked like just another guy from Tahlequah, Oklahoma, a Cherokee who might’ve never left tribal lands. “Your grandpa would say those Greek patterns are a bunch of bull. He told me the stars were creatures with glowing fur, like magic hedgehogs. Once, long ago, some hunters even captured a few in the forest. They didn’t know what they’d done until nighttime, when the star creatures began to glow. Golden sparks flew from their fur, so the Cherokee released them back into the sky.”

“You believe in magic hedgehogs?” Piper asked.

Her dad laughed. “I think Grandpa Tom was full of bull, too, just like the Greeks. But it’s a big sky. I suppose there’s room for Hercules and hedgehogs.”

They sat for a while, until Piper got the nerve to ask a question that had been bugging her. “Dad, why don’t you ever play Native American parts?”

The week before, he’d turned down several million dollars to play Tonto in a remake of The Lone Ranger. Piper was still trying to figure out why. He’d played all kinds of roles—a Latino teacher in a tough L.A. school, a dashing Israeli spy in an action-adventure blockbuster, even a Syrian terrorist in a James Bond movie. And, of course, he would always be known as the King of Sparta. But if the part was Native American—it didn’t matter what kind of role it was—Dad turned it down.

He winked at her. “Too close to home, Pipes. Easier to pretend I’m something I’m not.”

“Doesn’t that get old? Aren’t you ever tempted, like, if you found the perfect part that could change people’s opinions?”

“If there’s a part like that, Pipes,” he said sadly, “I haven’t found it.”

She looked at the stars, trying to imagine them as glowing hedgehogs. All she saw were the stick figures she knew—Hercules running across the sky, on his way to kill monsters. Dad was probably right. The Greeks and the Cherokee were equally crazy. The stars were just balls of fire.

“Dad,” she said, “if you don’t like being close to home, why are we sleeping in Grandpa Tom’s yard?”

His laughter echoed in the quiet Oklahoma night. “I think you know me too well, Pipes.”

“You’re not really going to sell this place, are you?”

“Nope,” he sighed. “I’m probably not.”

Piper blinked, shaking herself out of the memory. She realized she’d been falling asleep on the dragon’s back. How could her dad pretend to be so many things he wasn’t? She was trying to do that now, and it was tearing her apart.

Maybe she could pretend for a little while longer. She could dream of finding a way to save her father without betraying her friends—even if right now a happy ending seemed about as likely as magic hedgehogs.

She leaned back against Jason’s warm chest. He didn’t complain. As soon she closed her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, she was back on the mountaintop. The ghostly purple bonfire cast shadows across the trees. Piper’s eyes stung from smoke, and the ground was so warm, the soles of her boots felt sticky.

A voice from the dark rumbled, “You forget your duty.”

Piper couldn’t see him, but it was definitely her least favorite giant—the one who called himself Enceladus. She looked around for any sign of her father, but the pole where he’d been chained was no longer there.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “What’ve you done with him?”

The giant’s laugh was like lava hissing down a volcano. “His body is safe enough, though I fear the poor man’s mind can’t take much more of my company. For some reason he finds me—disturbing. You must hurry, girl, or I fear there will be little left of him to save.”

“Let him go!” she screamed. “Take me instead. He’s just a mortal!”

“But, my dear,” the giant rumbled, “we must prove our love for our parents. That’s what I’m doing. Show me you value your father’s life by doing what I ask. Who’s more important—your father, or a deceitful goddess who used you, toyed with your emotions, manipulated your memories, eh? What is Hera to you?”

Piper began to tremble. So much anger and fear boiled inside her, she could hardly talk. “You’re asking me to betray my friends.”

“Sadly, my dear, your friends are destined to die. Their quest is impossible. Even if you succeeded, you heard the prophecy: unleashing Hera’s rage would mean your destruction. The only question now—will you die with your friends, or live with your father?”

The bonfire roared. Piper tried to step back, but her feet were heavy. She realized the ground was pulling her down, clinging to her boots like wet sand. When she looked up, a shower of purple sparks had spread across the sky, and the sun was rising in the east. A patchwork of cities glowed in the valley below, and far to the west, over a line of rolling hills, she saw a familiar landmark rising from a sea of fog.

“Why are you showing me this?” Piper asked. “You’re revealing where you are.”

“Yes, you know this place,” the giant said. “Lead your friends here instead of their true destination, and I will deal with them. Or even better, arrange their deaths before you arrive. I don’t care which. Just be at the summit by noon on the solstice, and you may collect your father and go in peace.”