the_blood_of_olympus_-_rick_riordan

‘You were awesome, Levesque.’ Leo did his best Hazel imitation: ‘Popcorn! Our fatal
weakness!’
She smiled wanly. Together the four of them walked over to Nike, who was still writhing and
flapping her wings in the net like a golden chicken.
‘What do we do with her?’ Percy asked.
‘Take her aboard the Argo II,’ Leo said. ‘Chuck her in one of the horse stalls.’
Hazel’s eyes widened. ‘You’re going to keep the goddess of victory in the stable?’
‘Why not? Once we sort things out between Greeks and Romans, the gods should go back to their
normal selves. Then we can free her and she can … you know … grant us victory.’
‘Grant you victory?’ the goddess cried. ‘Never! You will suffer for this outrage! Your blood shall
be spilled! One of you here – one of you four – is fated to die battling Gaia!’
Leo’s intestines tied themselves into a slipknot. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I can foresee victories!’ Nike yelled. ‘You will have no success without death! Release me and
fight each other! It is better you die here than face what is to come!’
Hazel stuck the point of her spatha under Nike’s chin. ‘Explain.’ Her voice was harder than Leo
had ever heard. ‘Which of us will die? How do we stop it?’
‘Ah, child of Pluto! Your magic helped you cheat in this contest, but you cannot cheat destiny. One
of you will die. One of you must die!’
‘No,’ Hazel insisted. ‘There’s another way. There is always another path.’
‘Hecate taught you this?’ Nike laughed. ‘You would hope for the physician’s cure, perhaps? But
that is impossible. Too much stands in your way: the poison of Pylos, the chained god’s heartbeat in
Sparta, the curse of Delos! No, you cannot cheat death.’
Frank knelt. He gathered up the net under Nike’s chin and raised her face to his. ‘What are you
talking about? How do we find this cure?’
‘I will not help you,’ Nike growled. ‘I will curse you with my power, net or no!’
She began to mutter in Ancient Greek.
Frank looked up, scowling. ‘Can she really cast magic through this net?’
‘Heck if I know,’ Leo said.
Frank let go of the goddess. He took off one of his shoes, peeled off his sock and stuffed it in the
goddess’s mouth.
‘Dude,’ Percy said, ‘that is disgusting.’
‘Mpppphhh!’ Nike complained. ‘Mppppphhh!’
‘Leo,’ Frank said grimly, ‘you got duct tape?’
‘Never leave home without it.’ He fished a roll from his tool belt, and in no time Frank had
wrapped it around Nike’s head, securing the gag in her mouth.
‘Well, it’s not a laurel wreath,’ Frank said, ‘but it’s a new kind of victory circle: the gag of duct
tape.’
‘Zhang,’ Leo said, ‘you got style.’
Nike thrashed and grunted until Percy nudged her with his toe. ‘Hey, shut up. You behave or we’ll
get Arion back here and let him nibble your wings. He loves gold.’