The Blood of Olympus: Chapter 9

He had three more braces to attach, and nobody else was skinny enough to fit in the crawl space. (One of the many advantages of being scrawny.)

Wedged between the layers of the hull with the plumbing and wiring, Leo could be alone with his thoughts. When he got frustrated, which happened about every five seconds, he could hit stuff with his mallet and the other crew members would figure he was working, not throwing a tantrum.

One problem with his sanctuary: he only fitted up to his waist. His butt and legs were still on view to the general public, which made it hard for him to hide.

‘Leo!’ Piper’s voice came from somewhere behind him. ‘We need you.’

The Celestial bronze O-ring slipped out of Leo’s pliers and slid into the depths of the crawl space.

Leo sighed. ‘Talk to the pants, Piper! ’Cause the hands are busy!’

‘I am talking to the pants. Meeting in the mess hall. We’re almost at Olympia.’

‘Yeah, fine. I’ll be there in a sec.’

‘What are you doing, anyway? You’ve been poking around inside the hull for days.’

Leo swept his flashlight across the Celestial bronze plates and pistons he’d been installing slowly but surely. ‘Routine maintenance.’

Silence. Piper was a little too good at knowing when he was lying. ‘Leo –’

‘Hey, while you’re out there, do me a favour. I got this itch right below my –’

‘Fine, I’m leaving!’

Leo allowed himself a couple more minutes to fasten the brace. His work wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. But he was making progress.

Of course, he’d laid the groundwork for his secret project when he first built the , but he hadn’t told anyone about it. He had barely been honest with himself about what he was doing.

, his dad once told him.

Yeah, okay, maybe that was true. But Hephaestus had also said, Leo intended to test that theory.

It was a dangerous risk. If he failed, it would crush him. Not just emotionally. It would crush him.

The thought made him claustrophobic.

He wriggled out of the crawl space and went back into his cabin.

Well …

it was his cabin, but he didn’t sleep there. The mattress was littered with wires, nails and the guts of several disassembled bronze machines. His three massive rolling tool cabinets – Chico, Harpo and Groucho – took up most of the room. Dozens of power tools hung on the walls. The worktable was piled with photocopied blueprints from , the forgotten Archimedes text Leo had liberated from an underground workshop in Rome.

Even if he wanted to sleep in his cabin, it would’ve been too cramped and dangerous. He preferred to bed down in the engine room, where the constant hum of machinery helped him fall asleep. Besides, ever since his time on the island of Ogygia, he had become fond of camping out. A bedroll on the floor was all he needed.

His cabin was only for storage … and for working on his most difficult projects.

He pulled his keys from his tool belt. He didn’t really have time, but he unlocked Groucho’s middle drawer and stared at the two precious objects inside: a bronze astrolabe he’d picked up in Bologna, and a fist-sized chunk of crystal from Ogygia. Leo hadn’t figured out how to put the two things together yet, and it was driving him crazy.

He’d been hoping to get some answers when they visited Ithaca. After all, it was the home of Odysseus, the dude who had constructed the astrolabe. But, judging from what Jason had said, those ruins hadn’t held any answers for him – just a bunch of ill-tempered ghouls and ghosts.

Anyway, Odysseus never got the astrolabe to work. He hadn’t had a crystal to use as a homing beacon. Leo did. He would have to succeed where the cleverest demigod of all time had failed.

Just Leo’s luck. A super-hot immortal girl was waiting for him on Ogygia, but he couldn’t figure out how to wire a stupid chunk of rock into the three-thousand-year-old navigation device. Some problems even duct tape couldn’t solve.

Leo closed the drawer and locked it.

His eyes drifted to the bulletin board above his worktable, where two pictures hung side by side. The first was the old crayon drawing he’d made when he was seven years old – a diagram of a flying ship he’d seen in his dreams. The second was a charcoal sketch Hazel had recently made for him.

Hazel Levesque … that girl was something. As soon as Leo rejoined the crew in Malta, she’d known right away that Leo was hurting inside. The first chance she got, after all that mess in the House of Hades, she’d marched into Leo’s cabin and said, ‘Spill.’

Hazel was a good listener. Leo told her the whole story. Later that evening, Hazel came back with her sketch pad and her charcoal pencils. ‘Describe her,’ she insisted. ‘Every detail.’

It felt a little weird helping Hazel make a portrait of Calypso – as if he were talking to a police artist:

Sounded like a freaking country song.

But describing Calypso had been easy. Leo couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her.

Now her likeness gazed back at him from the bulletin board – her almond-shaped eyes, her pouty lips, her long straight hair swept over one shoulder of her sleeveless dress. He could almost smell her cinnamon fragrance. Her knitted brow and the downward turn of her mouth seemed to say, Dang, he loved that woman!

Leo had pinned her portrait next to the drawing of the to remind himself that sometimes visions come true. As a little kid, he’d dreamed about a flying ship. Eventually he built it. Now he would build a way to get back to Calypso.

The hum of the ship’s engines changed to a lower pitch. Over the cabin loudspeaker, Festus’s voice creaked and squeaked.

‘Yeah, thanks, buddy,’ Leo said. ‘On my way.’

The ship was descending, which meant Leo’s projects would have to wait.

‘Sit tight, Sunshine,’ he told Calypso’s picture. ‘I’ll get back to you, just like I promised.’

Leo could imagine her response:

not not The thought made him smile. He slipped his keys back into his tool belt and headed for the mess hall.

The other six demigods were eating breakfast.

Once upon a time, Leo would have worried about all of them being together belowdecks with nobody at the helm, but ever since Piper had permanently woken up Festus with her charmspeak – a feat Leo did not understand – the dragon figurehead had been more than capable of running the by himself. Festus could navigate, check the radar, make a blueberry smoothie and spew white-hot jets of fire at invaders – simultaneously – without even blowing a circuit.

Besides, they had Buford the Wonder Table as backup.

After Coach Hedge left on his shadow-travel expedition, Leo had decided that his three-legged table could do just as good a job as their ‘adult chaperone’. He had laminated Buford’s tabletop with a magic scroll that projected a pint-sized holographic simulation of Coach Hedge. Mini-Hedge would stomp around on Buford’s top, randomly saying things like ‘CUT THAT OUT!’ ‘I’M GONNA KILL YOU!’ and the ever-popular ‘PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!’

Today, Buford was manning the helm. If Festus’s flames didn’t scare away the monsters, Buford’s holographic Hedge definitely would.

Leo stood in the doorway of the mess hall, taking in the scene around the dining table. It wasn’t often he got to see all his friends together.

Percy was eating a huge stack of blue pancakes (what was his deal with blue food?) while Annabeth chided him for pouring on too much syrup.

‘You’re drowning them!’ she complained.

‘Hey, I’m a Poseidon kid,’ he said. ‘I can’t drown. And neither can my pancakes.’

To their left, Frank and Hazel used their cereal bowls to flatten out a map of Greece. They looked over it, their heads close together. Every once in a while Frank’s hand would cover Hazel’s, just sweet and natural like they were an old married couple, and Hazel didn’t even look flustered, which was real progress for a girl from the 1940s. Until recently, if somebody said , she would nearly faint.

At the head of the table, Jason sat uncomfortably with his T-shirt rolled up to his ribcage as Nurse Piper changed his bandages.

‘Hold still,’ she said. ‘I know it hurts.’

‘It’s just cold,’ he said.

Leo could hear the pain in his voice. That stupid blade had pierced him all the way through. The entrance wound on his back was an ugly shade of purple and it steamed. Probably not a good sign.

Piper tried to stay positive, but privately she had told Leo how worried she was. Ambrosia, nectar and mortal medicine could only help so much. A deep cut from Celestial bronze or Imperial gold could literally dissolve a demigod’s essence from the inside out. Jason might get better. He he felt better. But Piper wasn’t so sure.

Too bad Jason wasn’t a metal automaton. At least then Leo would have some idea of how to help his best friend. But with humans … Leo felt helpless. They broke too easily.

He loved his friends. He’d do anything for them. But as he looked at the six of them – three couples, all focused on each other – he thought about the warning from Nemesis, the revenge goddess:

He was starting to think Nemesis was right. Assuming Leo lived long enough, assuming his crazy secret plan worked, his destiny was with somebody else, on an island that no man ever found twice.

But for now the best he could do was to follow his old rule:

Don’t get bogged down. Don’t think about the bad stuff. Smile and joke even when you don’t feel like it.

when you don’t feel like it.

‘What’s up, guys?’ He strolled into the mess hall. ‘Aw, to brownies!’

He grabbed the last one – from a special sea-salt recipe they’d picked up from Aphros the fish centaur at the bottom of the Atlantic.

The intercom crackled. Buford’s Mini-Hedge yelled over the speakers, ‘PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!’

Everyone jumped. Hazel ended up five feet away from Frank. Percy spilled syrup in his orange juice. Jason awkwardly wriggled back into his T-shirt, and Frank turned into a bulldog.

Piper glared at Leo. ‘I thought you were getting rid of that stupid hologram.’

‘Hey, Buford’s just saying good morning. He loves his hologram! Besides, we all miss the coach. And Frank makes a cute bulldog.’

Frank morphed back into a burly, grumpy Chinese Canadian dude. ‘Just sit down, Leo. We’ve got stuff to talk about.’

Leo squeezed in between Jason and Hazel. He figured they were the least likely to smack him if he made bad jokes. He took a bite of his brownie and grabbed a pack of Italian junk food – Fonzies – to round out his balanced breakfast. He’d become kind of addicted to the things since buying some in Bologna. They were cheesy and corny – two of his favourite qualities.

‘So …’ Jason winced as he leaned forward. ‘We’re going to stay airborne and drop anchor as close as we can to Olympia. It’s further inland than I’d like – about five miles – but we don’t have much choice. According to Juno, we have to find the goddess of victory and, um … subdue her.’

Uncomfortable silence around the table.

With the new drapes covering the holographic walls, the mess hall was darker and gloomier than it should’ve been, but that couldn’t be helped. Ever since the Kerkopes dwarf twins had short-circuited the walls, the real-time video feed from Camp Half-Blood often fuzzed out, changing into playback of extreme dwarf close-ups – red whiskers, nostrils and bad dental work. It wasn’t helpful when you were trying to eat or have a serious conversation about the fate of the world.

Percy sipped his syrup-flavoured orange juice. He seemed to find it okay. ‘I’m cool with fighting the occasional goddess, but isn’t Nike one of the ones? I mean, personally, I victory. I can’t get enough of it.’

Annabeth drummed her fingers on the table. ‘It does seem strange. I understand why Nike would be in Olympia – home of the Olympics and all that. The contestants sacrificed to her. Greeks and Romans worshipped her there for, like, twelve hundred years, right?’

‘Almost to the end of the Roman Empire,’ Frank agreed. ‘Romans called her , but same difference. Everybody loved her. Who doesn’t like to win? Not sure why we would have to subdue her.’

Jason frowned. A wisp of steam curled from the wound under his shirt. ‘All I know … the ghoul Antinous said, Juno warned us that we could never heal the rift between the Greeks and Romans unless we defeated victory.’

‘How do we defeat victory?’ Piper wondered. ‘Sounds like one of those impossible riddles.’

‘Like making stones fly,’ Leo said, ‘or eating only one Fonzie.’

He popped a handful into his mouth.

Hazel wrinkled her nose. ‘That stuff is going to kill you.’

‘You kidding? So many preservatives in these things, I’ll live forever. But, hey, about this victory goddess being popular and great – Don’t you guys remember what her kids are like at Camp Half-Blood?’

Hazel and Frank had never been to Camp Half-Blood, but the others nodded gravely.

‘He’s got a point,’ Percy said. ‘Those kids in Cabin Seventeen – they’re competitive. When it comes to capture the flag, they’re almost worse than the Ares kids. Uh, no offence, Frank.’

Frank shrugged. ‘You’re saying Nike has a dark side?’

‘Her sure do,’ Annabeth said. ‘They never turn down a challenge. They to be number one at everything. If their mom is that intense …’

‘Whoa.’ Piper put her hands on the table like the ship was rocking. ‘Guys, all the gods are split between their Greek and Roman aspects, right? If Nike’s that way and she’s the goddess of –’

‘She’d be conflicted,’ Annabeth said. ‘She’d want one side or the other to win so she could declare a victor. She’d literally be fighting with herself.’

Hazel nudged her cereal bowl across the map of Greece. ‘But we don’t one side or the other to win. We’ve got to get the Greeks and Romans on the same team.’

‘Maybe that’s the problem,’ Jason said. ‘If the goddess of victory is running rampant, torn between Greek and Roman, she might make it impossible to bring the two camps together.’

‘How?’ Leo asked. ‘Start a flame war on Twitter?’

Percy stabbed at his pancakes. ‘Maybe she’s like Ares. That guy can spark a fight just by walking into a crowded room. If Nike radiates competitive vibes or something, she could aggravate the whole Greek–Roman rivalry big-time.’

Frank pointed at Percy. ‘You remember that old sea god in Atlanta –

Phorcys? He said that Gaia’s plans always have lots of layers. This could be part of the giants’ strategy – keep the two camps divided; keep the gods divided. If that’s the case, we can’t let Nike play us against each other. We should send a landing party of – two Greeks, two Romans. The balance might help keep balanced.’

Listening to Zhang, Leo had one of those double-take moments. He couldn’t believe how much the guy had changed in the last few weeks.

Frank wasn’t just taller and buffer. He was more confident now, more willing to take charge. Maybe that was because his magic firewood lifeline was safely stashed away in a flameproof pouch, or maybe it was because he’d commanded a zombie legion and been promoted to praetor. Whatever the case, Leo had trouble seeing him as the same klutzy dude who’d once his way out of Chinese handcuffs.

‘I think Frank is right,’ Annabeth said. ‘A party of four. We’ll have to be careful who goes. We don’t want to do anything that might make the goddess, um, more unstable.’

‘I’ll go,’ Piper said. ‘I can try charmspeaking.’

Worry lines deepened around Annabeth’s eyes. ‘Not this time, Piper. Nike is all about competition. Aphrodite … well, she is too, in her own way. I think Nike might see you as a threat.’

Once, Leo might have made a joke about that.

The girl was like a sister to him, but, if he needed help beating up a gang of thugs or subduing a victory goddess, Piper was not the first person he’d turn to.

Recently, though … well, Piper may not have changed as obviously as Frank, but she changed. She had stabbed Khione the snow goddess in the chest. She had defeated the Boreads. She’d slashed up a flock of wild harpies singlehandedly. As for her charmspeak, she’d become so powerful it made Leo nervous. If she told him to eat his vegetables, he might actually it.

Annabeth’s words didn’t seem to upset her. Piper just nodded and scanned the group. ‘Who should go, then?’

‘Jason and Percy shouldn’t go together,’ Annabeth said.

‘Jupiter and Poseidon – bad combination. Nike could start you two fighting easily.’

Percy gave her a sideways smile. ‘Yeah, we can’t have another incident like in Kansas. I might kill my bro Jason.’

‘Or I might kill my bro Percy,’ Jason said amiably.

‘Which proves my point,’ Annabeth said. ‘We also shouldn’t send Frank and me together.

Mars and Athena – that would be just as bad.’

‘Okay,’ Leo broke in. ‘So Percy and me for the Greeks. Frank and Hazel for the Romans. Is that the ultimate non-competitive dream team or what?’

Annabeth and Frank exchanged war-godly looks.

‘It could work,’ Frank decided. ‘I mean, combination is going to be perfect, but Poseidon, Hephaestus, Pluto, Mars … I don’t see any huge antagonism there.’

Hazel traced her finger along the map of Greece. ‘I still wish we could’ve gone through the Gulf of Corinth. I was hoping we could visit Delphi, maybe get some advice. Plus it’s such a long way around the Peloponnese.’

‘Yeah.’ Leo’s heart sank when he looked at how much coastline they still had to navigate. ‘It’s July twenty-second already. Counting today, only ten days until –’

‘I know,’ Jason said. ‘But Juno was clear. The shorter way would have been suicide.’

‘And as for Delphi …’ Piper leaned towards the map. The blue harpy feather in her hair swung like a pendulum. ‘What’s going on there? If Apollo doesn’t have his Oracle any more …’

Percy grunted. ‘Probably something to do with that creep Octavian. Maybe he was bad at telling the future that he broke Apollo’s powers.’

Jason managed a smile, though his eyes were cloudy from pain. ‘Hopefully we can find Apollo and Artemis. Then you can ask him yourself. Juno said the twins might be willing to help us.’

‘A lot of unanswered questions,’ Frank muttered. ‘A lot of miles to cover before we get to Athens.’

‘First things first,’ Annabeth said. ‘You guys have to find Nike and figure out how to subdue her … whatever Juno meant by that. I still don’t understand how you defeat a goddess who controls victory. Seems impossible.’

Leo started to grin. He couldn’t help it. Sure, they only had ten days to stop the giants from waking Gaia. Sure, he could die before dinnertime. But he loved being told that something was impossible. It was like someone handing him a lemon meringue pie and telling him not to throw it. He just couldn’t resist the challenge.

‘We’ll see about that.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Let me get my collection of grenades and I’ll meet you guys on deck!’