BLOOD OF OLYMPUS

She wasn’t above using charmspeak on mortals, but she’d decided to be as fair and careful as
possible. Her days of stealing BMWs from car dealerships were over.
‘Thank you,’ she told him. ‘If anyone asks, you took us around the island and showed us the sights.
You dropped us at the docks in Pylos. You never saw any giant warship.’
‘No warship,’ the captain agreed. ‘Thank you, nice American tourists!’
They climbed aboard the Argo II and Frank smiled at her awkwardly. ‘Well … nice killing giant
warthogs with you.’
Piper laughed. ‘You too, Mr Zhang.’
She gave him a hug, which seemed to fluster him, but Piper couldn’t help liking Frank. Not only
was he a kind and considerate boyfriend to Hazel, but whenever Piper saw him wearing Jason’s old
praetor’s badge she felt grateful to him for stepping up and accepting that job. He had taken a huge
responsibility off Jason’s shoulders and left him free (Piper hoped) to pursue a new path at Camp
Half-Blood … assuming, of course, that they all lived through the next eight days.
The crew gathered for a hurried meeting on the foredeck – mostly because Percy was keeping an
eye on a giant red sea serpent swimming off the port side.
‘That thing is really red,’ Percy muttered. ‘I wonder if it’s cherry-flavoured.’
‘Why don’t you swim over and find out?’ Annabeth asked.
‘How about no.’
‘Anyway,’ Frank said, ‘according to my Pylos cousins, the chained god we’re looking for in Sparta
is my dad … uh, I mean Ares, not Mars. Apparently the Spartans kept a statue of him chained up in
their city so the spirit of war would never leave them.’
‘Oo-kay,’ Leo said. ‘The Spartans were freaks. Of course, we’ve got Victory tied up downstairs,
so I guess we can’t talk.’
Jason leaned against the forward ballista. ‘On to Sparta, then. But how does a chained god’s
heartbeat help us find a cure for dying?’
From the tightness in his face, Piper could tell he was still in pain. She remembered what
Aphrodite had told her: It’s not just his sword wound, my dear. It’s the ugly truth he saw in Ithaca.
If the poor boy doesn’t stay strong, that truth will eat right through him.
‘Piper?’ Hazel asked.
She stirred. ‘Sorry, what?’
‘I was asking you about the visions,’ Hazel prompted. ‘You told me you’d seen some stuff in your
dagger blade?’
‘Uh … right.’ Piper reluctantly unsheathed Katoptris. Ever since she’d used it to stab the snow
goddess Khione, the visions in the blade had become colder and harsher, like images etched in ice.
She’d seen eagles swirling over Camp Half-Blood, a wave of earth destroying New York. She’d seen
scenes from the past: her father beaten and bound at the top of Mount Diablo, Jason and Percy fighting
giants in the Roman Colosseum, the river god Achelous reaching out to her, pleading for the
cornucopia she’d cut from his head.
‘I, um …’ She tried to clear her thoughts. ‘I don’t see anything right now. But one vision kept
popping up. Annabeth and I are exploring some ruins –’