The Titan's Curse(20)

"Well, yeah. I mean, it happened to Persephone."

"But she was like, the goddess of flowers."

Grover looked offended. "Springtime."

"Whatever. Artemis is a lot more powerful than that. Who could kidnap her? And why?"

Grover shook his head miserably. "I don't know. Kronos?"

"He can't be that powerful already. Can he?"

The last time we'd seen Kronos, he'd been in tiny pieces. Well… we hadn't actually seen him. Thousands of years ago, after the big Titan—God war, the gods had sliced him to bits with his own scythe and scattered his remains in Tartarus, which is like the gods' bottomless recycling bin for their enemies. Two summers ago, Kronos had tricked us to the very edge of the pit and almost pulled us in. Then last summer, on board Luke's demon cruise ship, we'd seen a golden coffin, where Luke claimed he was summoning the Titan Lord out of the abyss, bit by bit, every time someone new joined their cause. Kronos could influence people with dreams and trick them, but I didn't see how he could physically overcome Artemis if he was still like a pile of evil bark mulch.

"I don't know," Grover said. "I think somebody would know if Kronos had re-formed. The gods would be more nervous. But still, it's weird, you having a nightmare the same night as Zoe. It's almost like—"

"They're connected," I said.

Over in the frozen meadow, a satyr skidded on his hooves as he chased after a redheaded tree nymph. She giggled and held out her arms as he ran toward her. Pop! She turned into a Scotch pine and he kissed the trunk at top speed,

"Ah, love," Grover said dreamily.

I thought about Zoe's nightmare, which she'd had only a few hours after mine.

"I've got to talk to Zoe," I said.

"Um, before you do…" Grover took something out of his coat pocket. It was a three-fold display like a travel brochure. "You remember what you said—about how it was weird the Hunters just happened to show up at Westover Hall? I think they might've been scouting us."

"Scouting us? What do you mean?"

He gave me the brochure. It was about the Hunters of Artemis. The front read, A WISE CHOICE FOR YOUR FUTURE! Inside were pictures of young maidens doing hunter stuff, chasing monsters, shooting bows. There were captions like: HEALTH BENEFITS: IMMORTALITY AND WHAT IT MEANS FOR YOU! and A BOY-FREE TOMORROW!

"I found that in Annabeth's backpack," Grover said.

I stared at him. "I don't understand."

"Well, it seems to me… maybe Annabeth was thinking about joining."

I'd like to say I took the news well.

The truth was, I wanted to strangle the Hunters of Artemis one eternal maiden at a time. The rest of the day I tried to keep busy, but I was worried sick about Annabeth. I went to javelin-throwing class, but the Ares camper in charge chewed me out after I got distracted and threw the javelin at the target before he got out of the way. I apologized for the hole in his pants, but he still sent me packing.

I visited the pegasus stables, but Silena Beauregard from the Aphrodite cabin was having an argument with one of the Hunters, and I decided I'd better not get involved.

After that, I sat in the empty chariot stands and sulked. Down at the archery fields, Chiron was conducting target practice. I knew he'd be the best person to talk to. Maybe he could give me some advice, but something held me back. I had a feeling Chiron would try to protect me, like he always did. He might not tell me everything he knew.

I looked the other direction. At the top of Half-Blood Hill, Mr. D and Argus were feeding the baby dragon that guarded the Golden Fleece.

Then it occurred to me: no one would be in the Big House. There was someone else… something else I could ask for guidance.

My blood was humming in my ears as I ran into the house and took the stairs. I'd only done this once before, and I still had nightmares about it. I opened the trap door and stepped into the attic.

The room was dark and dusty and cluttered with junk, just like I remembered. There were shields with monster bites out of them, and swords bent in the shapes of daemon heads, and a bunch of taxidermy, like a stuffed harpy and a bright orange python.

Over by the window, sitting on a three-legged stool, was the shriveled-up mummy of an old lady in a tie-dyed hippie dress. The Oracle.

I made myself walk toward her. I waited for green mist to billow from the mummy's mouth, like it had before, but nothing happened.

"Hi," I said. "Uh, what's up?"

I winced at how stupid that sounded. Not much could be "up" when you're dead and stuck in the attic. But I knew the spirit of the Oracle was in there somewhere. I could feel a cold presence in the room, like a coiled sleeping snake.

"I have a question," I said a little louder. "I need to know about Annabeth. How can I save her?"

No answer. The sun slanted through the dirty attic window, lighting the dust motes dancing in the air.

I waited longer.

Then I got angry. I was being stonewalled by a corpse.

"All right," I said. "Fine. I'll figure it out myself."

I turned and bumped into a big table full of souvenirs. It seemed more cluttered than the last time I was here. Heroes stored all kinds of stuff in the attic: quest trophies they no longer wanted to keep in their cabins, or stuff that held painful memories. I knew Luke had stored a dragon claw somewhere up here—the one that had scarred his face.