The Titan's Curse (5 page)

“Ow,” Grover said.

“Sorry.”

“Slower!” Apollo said.

“Sorry!” Thalia said. “I've got it under control!”

I managed to get to my feet. Looking out the window, I saw a smoking ring of trees from the clearing where we'd taken off.

“Thalia,” I said, “lighten up on the accelerator.”

“I've
got
it, Percy,” she said, gritting her teeth. But she kept it floored.

“Loosen up,” I told her.

“I'm loose!” Thalia said. She was so stiff she looked like she was made out of plywood.

“We need to veer south for Long Island,” Apollo said. “Hang a left.”

Thalia jerked the wheel and again threw me into Grover, who yelped.

“The other left,” Apollo suggested.

I made the mistake of looking out the window again. We were at airplane height now—so high the sky was starting to look black.

“Ah . . .” Apollo said, and I got the feeling he was forcing himself to sound calm. “A little lower, sweetheart. Cape Cod is freezing over.”

Thalia tilted the wheel. Her face was chalk white, her forehead beaded with sweat. Something was definitely wrong. I'd never seen her like this.

The bus pitched down and somebody screamed. Maybe it was me. Now we were heading straight toward the Atlantic Ocean at a thousand miles an hour, the New England coastline off to our right. And it was getting hot in the bus.

Apollo had been thrown somewhere in the back of the bus, but he started climbing up the rows of seats.

“Take the wheel!” Grover begged him.

“No worries,” Apollo said. He looked plenty worried. “She just has to learn to—WHOA!”

I saw what he was seeing. Down below us was a little snow-covered New England town. At least, it used to be snow-covered. As I watched, the snow melted off the trees and the roofs and the lawns. The white steeple on a church turned brown and started to smolder. Little plumes of smoke, like birthday candles, were popping up all over the town. Trees and rooftops were catching fire.

“Pull up!” I yelled.

There was a wild light in Thalia's eyes. She yanked back on the wheel, and I held on this time. As we zoomed up, I could see through the back window that the fires in the town were being snuffed out by the sudden blast of cold.

“There!” Apollo pointed. “Long Island, dead ahead. Let's slow down, dear. ‘Dead' is only an expression.”

Thalia was thundering toward the coastline of northern Long Island. There was Camp Half-Blood: the valley, the woods, the beach. I could see the dining pavilion and cabins and the amphitheater.

“I'm under control,” Thalia muttered. “I'm under control.”

We were only a few hundred yards away now.

“Brake,” Apollo said.

“I can do this.”

“BRAKE!”

Thalia slammed her foot on the brake, and the sun bus pitched forward at a forty-five-degree angle, slamming into the Camp Half-Blood canoe lake with a huge
FLOOOOOOSH!
Steam billowed up, sending several frightened naiads scrambling out of the water with half-woven wicker baskets.

The bus bobbed to the surface, along with a couple of capsized, half-melted canoes.

“Well,” said Apollo with a brave smile. “You were right, my dear. You had everything under control! Let's go see if we boiled anyone important, shall we?”

FIVE

I'd never seen Camp Half-Blood in winter before, and the snow surprised me.

See, the camp has the ultimate magic climate control. Nothing gets inside the borders unless the director, Mr. D, wants it to. I thought it would be warm and sunny, but instead the snow had been allowed to fall lightly. Frost covered the chariot track and the strawberry fields. The cabins were decorated with tiny flickering lights, like Christmas lights, except they seemed to be balls of real fire. More lights glowed in the woods, and weirdest of all, a fire flickered in the attic window of the Big House, where the Oracle dwelt, imprisoned in an old mummified body. I wondered if the spirit of Delphi was roasting marshmallows up there or something.

“Whoa,” Nico said as he climbed off the bus. “Is that a climbing wall?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Why is there lava pouring down it?”

“Little extra challenge. Come on. I'll introduce you to Chiron. Zoë, have you met—”

“I know Chiron,” Zoë said stiffly. “Tell him we will be in Cabin Eight. Hunters, follow me.”

“I'll show you the way,” Grover offered.

“We know the way.”

“Oh, really, it's no trouble. It's easy to get lost here, if you don't”—he tripped over a canoe and came up still talking—“like my old daddy goat used to say! Come on!”

Zoë rolled her eyes, but I guess she figured there was no getting rid of Grover. The Hunters shouldered their packs and their bows and headed off toward the cabins. As Bianca di Angelo was leaving, she leaned over and whispered something in her brother's ear. She looked at him for an answer, but Nico just scowled and turned away.

“Take care, sweethearts!” Apollo called after the Hunters. He winked at me. “Watch out for those prophecies, Percy. I'll see you soon.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he hopped back in the bus. “Later, Thalia,” he called. “And, uh, be good!”

He gave her a wicked smile, as if he knew something she didn't. Then he closed the doors and revved the engine. I turned aside as the sun chariot took off in a blast of heat. When I looked back, the lake was steaming. A red Maserati soared over the woods, glowing brighter and climbing higher until it disappeared in a ray of sunlight.

Nico was still looking grumpy. I wondered what his sister had told him.

“Who's Chiron?” he asked. “I don't have his figurine.”

“Our activities director,” I said. “He's . . . well, you'll see.”

“If those Hunter girls don't like him,” Nico grumbled, “that's good enough for me. Let's go.”

The second thing that surprised me about camp was how empty it was. I mean, I knew most half-bloods only trained during the summer. Just the year-rounders would be here— the ones who didn't have homes to go to, or would get attacked by monsters too much if they left. But there didn't even seem to be many of them, either.

I spotted Charles Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin stoking the forge outside the camp armory. The Stoll brothers, Travis and Connor, from the Hermes cabin, were picking the lock on the camp store. A few kids from the Ares cabin were having a snowball fight with the wood nymphs at the edge of the forest. That was about it. Even my old rival from the Ares cabin, Clarisse, didn't seem to be around.

The Big House was decorated with strings of red and yellow fireballs that warmed the porch but didn't seem to catch anything on fire. Inside, flames crackled in the hearth. The air smelled like hot chocolate. Mr. D, the camp director, and Chiron were playing a quiet game of cards in the parlor.

Chiron's brown beard was shaggier for the winter. His curly hair had grown a little longer. He wasn't posing as a teacher this year, so I guess he could afford to be casual. He wore a fuzzy sweater with a hoofprint design on it, and he had a blanket on his lap that almost hid his wheelchair completely.

He smiled when he saw us. “Percy! Thalia! Ah, and this must be—”

“Nico di Angelo,” I said. “He and his sister are half-bloods.”

Chiron breathed a sigh of relief. “You succeeded, then.”

“Well . . .”

His smile melted. “What's wrong? And where is Annabeth?”

“Oh, dear,” Mr. D said in a bored voice. “Not another one lost.”

I'd been trying not to pay attention to Mr. D, but he was kind of hard to ignore in his neon orange leopard-skin warm-up suit and his purple running shoes. (Like Mr. D had ever run a day in his immortal life.) A golden laurel wreath was tilted sideways on his curly black hair, which must've meant he'd won the last hand of cards.

“What do you mean?” Thalia asked. “Who else is lost?”

Just then, Grover trotted into the room, grinning like crazy. He had a black eye and red lines on his face that looked like a slap mark. “The Hunters are all moved in!”

Chiron frowned. “The Hunters, eh? I see we have much to talk about.” He glanced at Nico. “Grover, perhaps you should take our young friend to the den and show him our orientation film.”

“But . . . Oh, right. Yes, sir.”

“Orientation film?” Nico asked. “Is it G or PG? 'Cause Bianca is kinda strict—”

“It's PG-13,” Grover said.

“Cool!” Nico happily followed him out of the room.

“Now,” Chiron said to Thalia and me, “perhaps you two should sit down and tell us the whole story.”

When we were done, Chiron turned to Mr. D. “We should launch a search for Annabeth immediately.”

“I'll go,” Thalia and I said at the same time.

Mr. D sniffed. “Certainly not!”

Thalia and I both started complaining, but Mr. D held up his hand. He had that purplish angry fire in his eyes that usually meant something bad and godly was going to happen if we didn't shut up.

“From what you have told me,” Mr. D said, “we have broken even on this escapade. We have, ah, regrettably lost Annie Bell—”

“Annabeth,” I snapped. She'd gone to camp since she was seven, and still Mr. D pretended not to know her name.

“Yes, yes,” he said. “And you procured a small annoying boy to replace her. So I see no point risking further half-bloods on a ridiculous rescue. The possibility is very great that this Annie girl is dead.”

I wanted to strangle Mr. D. It wasn't fair Zeus had sent him here to dry out as camp director for a hundred years. It was meant to be a punishment for Mr. D's bad behavior on Olympus, but it ended up being a punishment for all of us.

“Annabeth may be alive,” Chiron said, but I could tell he was having trouble sounding upbeat. He'd practically raised Annabeth all those years she was a year-round camper, before she'd given living with her dad and stepmom a second try. “She's very bright. If . . . if our enemies have her, she will try to play for time. She may even pretend to cooperate.”

“That's right,” Thalia said. “Luke would want her alive.”

“In which case,” said Mr. D, “I'm afraid she will have to be smart enough to escape on her own.”

I got up from the table.

“Percy.” Chiron's tone was full of warning. In the back of my mind, I knew Mr. D was not somebody to mess with. Even if you were an impulsive ADHD kid like me, he wouldn't give you any slack. But I was so angry I didn't care.

“You're glad to lose another camper,” I said. “You'd like it if we all disappeared!”

Mr. D stifled a yawn. “You have a point?”

“Yeah,” I growled. “Just because you were sent here as a punishment doesn't mean you have to be a lazy jerk! This is your civilization, too. Maybe you could try helping out a little!”

For a second, there was no sound except the crackle of the fire. The light reflected in Mr. D's eyes, giving him a sinister look. He opened his mouth to say something— probably a curse that would blast me to smithereens—when Nico burst into the room, followed by Grover.

“SO COOL!” Nico yelled, holding his hands out to Chiron. “You're . . . you're a centaur!”

Chiron managed a nervous smile. “Yes, Mr. di Angelo, if you please. Though, I prefer to stay in human form in this wheelchair for, ah, first encounters.”

“And, whoa!” He looked at Mr. D. “You're the wine dude? No way!”

Mr. D turned his eyes away from me and gave Nico a look of loathing. “The wine dude?”

“Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine.”

“My figurine.”

“In my game, Mythomagic. And a holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks you're the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!”

“Ah.” Mr. D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved my life. “Well, that's . . . gratifying.”

“Percy,” Chiron said quickly, “you and Thalia go down to the cabins. Inform the campers we'll be playing capture the flag tomorrow evening.”

“Capture the flag?” I asked. “But we don't have enough—”

“It is a tradition,” Chiron said. “A friendly match, whenever the Hunters visit.”

“Yeah,” Thalia muttered. “I bet it's real friendly.”

Chiron jerked his head toward Mr. D, who was still frowning as Nico talked about how many defense points all the gods had in his game. “Run along now,” Chiron told us.

“Oh, right,” Thalia said. “Come on, Percy.”

She hauled me out of the Big House before Dionysus could remember that he wanted to kill me.

“You've already got Ares on your bad side,” Thalia reminded me as we trudged toward the cabins. “You need another immortal enemy?”

She was right. My first summer as a camper, I'd gotten in a fight with Ares, and now he and all his children wanted to kill me. I didn't need to make Dionysus mad, too.

“Sorry,” I said. “I couldn't help it. It's just so unfair.”

She stopped by the armory and looked out across the valley, toward the top of Half-Blood Hill. Her pine tree was still there, the Golden Fleece glittering in its lowest branch. The tree's magic still protected the borders of camp, but it no longer used Thalia's spirit for power.

“Percy, everything is unfair,” Thalia muttered. “Sometimes I wish . . .”

She didn't finish, but her tone was so sad I felt sorry for her. With her ragged black hair and her black punk clothes, an old wool overcoat wrapped around her, she looked like some kind of huge raven, completely out of place in the white landscape.

“We'll get Annabeth back,” I promised. “I just don't know how yet.”

“First I found out that Luke is lost,” she said. “Now Annabeth—”

“Don't think like that.”

“You're right.” She straightened up. “We'll find a way.”

Over at the basketball court, a few of the Hunters were shooting hoops. One of them was arguing with a guy from the Ares cabin. The Ares kid had his hand on his sword and the Hunter girl looked like she was going to exchange her basketball for a bow and arrow any second.

“I'll break that up,” Thalia said. “You circulate around the cabins. Tell everybody about capture the flag tomorrow.”

“All right. You should be team captain.”

“No, no,” she said. “You've been at camp longer. You do it.”

“We can, uh . . . co-captain or something.”

She looked about as comfortable with that as I felt, but she nodded.

As she headed for the court, I said, “Hey, Thalia.”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry about what happened at Westover. I should've waited for you guys.”

“'S okay, Percy. I probably would've done the same thing.” She shifted from foot to foot, like she was trying to decide whether or not to say more. “You know, you asked about my mom and I kinda snapped at you. It's just . . . I went back to find her after seven years, and I found out she died in Los Angeles. She, um . . . she was a heavy drinker, and apparently she was out driving late one night about two years ago, and . . .” Thalia blinked hard.

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well. It's . . . it's not like we were ever close. I ran away when I was ten. Best two years of my life were when I was running around with Luke and Annabeth. But still—”

“That's why you had trouble with the sun van.”

She gave me a wary look. “What do you mean?”

“The way you stiffened up. You must've been thinking about your mom, not wanting to get behind the wheel.”

I was sorry I'd said anything. Thalia's expression was dangerously close to Zeus's, the one time I'd seen him get angry— like any minute, her eyes would shoot a million volts.

“Yeah,” she muttered. “Yeah, that must've been it.”

She trudged off toward the court, where the Ares camper and the Hunter were trying to kill each other with a sword and a basketball.

The cabins were the weirdest collection of buildings you've ever seen. Zeus and Hera's big white-columned buildings, Cabins One and Two, stood in the middle, with five gods' cabins on the left and five goddesses' cabins on the right, so they all made a U around the central green and the barbecue hearth.