The Mark of Athena (The Heroes of Olympus #3)(30)



“Uh…thanks?”

From above, Coach Hedge yelled, “Thar she blows! Kansas, ahoy!”

“Holy Hephaestus,” Leo muttered. “He really needs to work on his shipspeak. I’d better get above deck.”

By the time Piper had showered, changed, and grabbed a bagel from the mess hall, she could hear the ship’s landing gear extending. She climbed on deck and joined the others as the Argo II settled in the middle of a field of sunflowers. The oars retracted. The gangplank lowered itself.

The morning air smelled of irrigation, warm plants, and fertilized earth. Not a bad smell. It reminded Piper of Grandpa Tom’s place in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, back on the reservation.

Percy was the first to notice her. He smiled in greeting, which for some reason surprised Piper. He was wearing faded jeans and a fresh orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, as if he’d never been away from the Greek side. The new clothes had probably helped his mood—and of course the fact that he was standing at the rail with his arm around Annabeth.

Piper was happy to see Annabeth with a sparkle in her eyes, because Piper had never had a better friend. For months, Annabeth had been tormenting herself, her every waking moment consumed with the search for Percy. Now, despite the dangerous quest they were facing, at least she had her boyfriend back.

“So!” Annabeth plucked the bagel out of Piper’s hand and took a bite, but that didn’t bother Piper. Back at camp, they’d had a running joke about stealing each other’s breakfast. “Here we are. What’s the plan?”

“I want to check out the highway,” Piper said. “Find the sign that says Topeka 32.”

Leo spun his Wii controller in a circle, and the sails lowered themselves. “We shouldn’t be far,” he said. “Festus and I calculated the landing as best we could. What do you expect to find at the mile marker?”

Piper explained what she’d seen in the knife—the man in purple with a goblet. She kept quiet about the other images, though, like the vision of Percy, Jason, and herself drowning. She wasn’t sure what it meant, anyway; and everyone seemed in such better spirits this morning, she didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“Purple shirt?” Jason asked. “Vines on his hat? Sounds like Bacchus.”

“Dionysus,” Percy muttered. “If we came all the way to Kansas to see Mr. D—”

“Bacchus isn’t so bad,” Jason said. “I don’t like his followers much.…”

Piper shuddered. Jason, Leo, and she had had an encounter with the maenads a few months ago and almost gotten torn to pieces.

“But the god himself is okay,” Jason continued. “I did him a favor once up in the wine country.”

Percy looked appalled. “Whatever, man. Maybe he’s better on the Roman side. But why would he be hanging around in Kansas? Didn’t Zeus order the gods to cease all contact with mortals?”

Frank grunted. The big guy was wearing a blue tracksuit this morning, like he was ready to go for a jog in the sunflowers.

“The gods haven’t been very good at following that order,” he noted. “Besides, if the gods have gone schizophrenic like Hazel said—”

“And Leo said,” added Leo.

Frank scowled at him. “Then who knows what’s going on with the Olympians? Could be some pretty bad stuff out there.”

“Sounds dangerous!” Leo agreed cheerfully. “Well…you guys have fun. I’ve got to finish repairs on the hull. Coach Hedge is gonna work on the broken crossbows. And, uh, Annabeth—I could really use your help. You’re the only other person who even sort of understands engineering.”

Annabeth looked apologetically at Percy. “He’s right. I should stay and help.”

“I’ll come back to you.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Promise.”

They were so easy together, it made Piper’s heart ache.

Jason was great, of course. But sometimes he acted so distant, like last night, when he’d been reluctant to talk about that old Roman legend. So often he seemed to be thinking of his old life at Camp Jupiter. Piper wondered if she would ever be able to break through that barrier.

The trip to Camp Jupiter, seeing Reyna in person, hadn’t helped. Neither did the fact that Jason had chosen to wear a purple shirt today—the color of the Romans.

Frank slid his bow off his shoulder and propped it against the rail. “I think I should turn into a crow or something and fly around, keep an eye out for Roman eagles.”

“Why a crow?” Leo asked. “Man, if you can turn into a dragon, why don’t you just turn into a dragon every time? That’s the coolest.”

Frank’s face looked like it was being infused with cranberry juice. “That’s like asking why you don’t bench-press your maximum weight every time you lift. Because it’s hard, and you’d hurt yourself. Turning into a dragon isn’t easy.”

“Oh.” Leo nodded. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t lift weights.”

“Yeah. Well, maybe you should consider it, Mr.—”

Hazel stepped between them.

“I’ll help you, Frank,” she said, shooting Leo an evil look. “I can summon Arion and scout around below.”

“Sure,” Frank said, still glaring at Leo. “Yeah, thanks.”

Rick Riordan's Books