The Heroes of Olympus: The Demigod Diaries (11 page)

“George, Martha,” I said. “Do you think you could manage laser mode just once more for me?”

With pleasure,
George said.

The caduceus turned into a wicked high-tech bazooka.

I took aim at the falling giant and yelled, “Pull!”

The caduceus blasted its beam of blue light, and the giant disintegrated into a beautiful starburst.

That,
George said,
was excellent. May I have a rat now?

I have to agree with George,
Martha said.
A rat would be lovely.

“You’ve earned it,” I said. “But first we’d better check on Annabeth.”

She met me at the steps of the park, grinning like crazy.

“Was that amazing?” she demanded.

“That was amazing,” I agreed. It’s hard to pull off a romantic kiss when you’re both drenched in muck, but we gave it our best shot.

When I finally came up for air, I said, “Rats.”

“Rats?” she asked.

“For the snakes,” I said. “And then—”

“Oh, gods.” She pulled out her phone and checked the time. “It’s almost five. We have to get the caduceus back to Hermes!”

The surface streets were clogged with emergency vehicles and minor accidents, so we took the subway back. Besides, the subway had rats. Without going into gruesome details, I can tell you that George and Martha helped out with the vermin problem. As we traveled north, they curled around the caduceus and dozed contentedly with bulging bellies.

We met Hermes by the Atlas statue at Rockefeller Center. (The statue, by the way, looks nothing like the real Atlas, but that’s another story.)

“Thank the Fates!” Hermes cried. “I’d just about given up hope!”

He took the caduceus and patted the heads of his sleepy snakes. “There, there, my friends. You’re home now.”

Zzzzz,
said Martha.

Yummy,
George murmured in his sleep.

Hermes sighed with relief. “Thank you, Percy.”

Annabeth cleared her throat.

“Oh, yes,” the god added, “and you, too, girl. I just have time to finish my deliveries! But what happened with Cacus?”

We told him the story. When I related what Cacus had said about someone else giving him the idea to steal the caduceus, and about the gods having other enemies, Hermes’s face darkened.

“Cacus wanted to cut the gods’ communication lines, did he?” Hermes mused. “That’s ironic, considering Zeus has been threatening…”

His voice trailed off.

“What?” Annabeth asked. “Zeus has been threatening what?”

“Nothing,” Hermes said.

It was obviously a lie, but I’d learned that it’s best not to confront gods when they lie to your face. They tend to turn you into small fuzzy mammals or potted plants.

“Okay…” I said. “Any idea what Cacus meant about other enemies, or who would want him to steal your caduceus?”

Hermes fidgeted. “Oh, could be any number of enemies. We gods
do
have many.”

“Hard to believe,” Annabeth said.

Hermes nodded. Apparently he didn’t catch the sarcasm, or he had other things on his mind. I got the feeling the giant’s warnings would come back to haunt us sooner or later, but Hermes obviously wasn’t going to enlighten us now.

The god managed a smile. “At any rate, well done, both of you! Now I must be going. So many stops—”

“There’s the small matter of my reward,” I reminded him.

Annabeth frowned. “What reward?”

“It’s our one-month anniversary,” I said. “Surely you didn’t forget.”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. I don’t leave her speechless very often. I have to enjoy those rare moments.

“Ah, yes, your reward.” Hermes looked us up and down. “I think we’ll have to start with new clothes. Manhattan sewage is not a look you can pull off. Then the rest should be easy. God of travel, at your service.”

“What is he talking about?” Annabeth asked.

“A special surprise for dinner,” I said. “I
did
promise.”

Hermes rubbed his hands. “Say good-bye, George and Martha.”

Good-bye, George and Martha,
said George sleepily.

Zzz,
said Martha.

“I may not see you for a while, Percy,” Hermes warned. “But…well, enjoy tonight.”

He made that sound so ominous, I wondered again what he wasn’t telling me. Then he snapped his fingers, and the world dissolved around us.

Our table was ready. The maître d’ seated us on a rooftop terrace with a view of the lights of Paris and the boats on the River Seine. The Eiffel Tower glowed in the distance.

I was wearing a suit. I hope someone got a picture, because I don’t
wear
suits. Thankfully, Hermes had magically arranged this. Otherwise I couldn’t have tied the tie. Hopefully I looked okay, because Annabeth looked stunning. She wore a dark green sleeveless dress that showed off her long blond hair and her slim athletic figure. Her camp necklace had been replaced by a string of gray pearls that matched her eyes.

The waiter brought fresh-baked bread and cheese, a bottle of sparkling water for Annabeth, and a Coke with ice for me (because I’m a barbarian). We dined on a bunch of stuff I couldn’t even pronounce—but all of it was great. It was almost half an hour before Annabeth got over her shock and spoke.

“This is…incredible.”

“Only the best for you,” I said. “And you thought I forgot.”

“You
did
forget, Seaweed Brain.” But her smile told me she wasn’t really mad. “Nice save, though. I’m impressed.”

“I have my moments.”

“You certainly do.” She reached across the table and took my hand. Her expression turned serious. “Any idea why Hermes acted so nervous? I got the feeling something bad was happening on Olympus.”

I shook my head.
I may not see you for a while,
the god had said, almost like he was warning me about something to come.

“Let’s just enjoy tonight,” I said. “Hermes will be teleporting us back at midnight.”

“Time for a walk along the river,” Annabeth suggested. “And Percy…feel free to start planning our two-month anniversary.”

“Oh, gods.” I felt panicky at the thought, but also really good. I’d survived a month as Annabeth’s boyfriend, so I guess I hadn’t screwed things up too badly. In fact, I’d never been happier. If she saw a future for us—if she was still planning to be with me next month, then that was good enough for me.

“How about we go for that walk?” I pulled out the credit card Hermes had tucked in my pocket—a black metal Olympus Express—and set it on the table. “I want to explore Paris with a beautiful girl.”

It’s such an honor to speak with you. You’re quite famous, you know.


G
EORGE
:
That’s right, buddy. We are VISs—very important snakes. Without us, Hermes’s staff would be nothing but a boring old branch
.

M
ARTHA
:
Shhhh…he might hear you. Hermes, if you’re listening, we think you’re wonderful.

G
EORGE
:
Yes, we’re very glad you caught us, Hermes. Please don’t stop feeding us.

What’s it like to work for Hermes?


M
ARTHA
:
We work
with
Hermes, dear. Not
for.

G
EORGE
:
Yeah, just because he caught us and made us part of his caduceus doesn’t mean he owns us. We’re his constant companions and he’d be bored without us. And he’d look quite silly without his caduceus, now, wouldn’t he?

What’s the best part of your job?


M
ARTHA
:
I like talking with the young demigods. So sweet, those children. It’s sad to see when they turn bad, though.…

G
EORGE
:
That Kronos business was a mess, but let’s not talk about the sad stuff. Let’s talk about the fun stuff, like lasers and traveling the world with Hermes.

Yes, what do you do while Hermes is off delivering packages, acting as a patron to travelers and thieves, and being a messenger of the gods?


G
EORGE
:
Well, it’s not like we’re useless, you know. What, you think we just hang around and sunbathe on the caduceus all day?

M
ARTHA
:
George, hush, you’re being rude.

G
EORGE
:
But he should know that we’re quite indispensible.

M
ARTHA
:
What George means is that we do a lot for Hermes. First of all, we provide moral support to Hermes, and I’d like to think that our soothing presence helps young demigods when Hermes is delivering so-so news.

G
EORGE
:
We do cooler stuff than that. Hermes can use the caduceus as a cattle prod, a laser, even a cell phone, and when he does, yours truly is the antennae.

M
ARTHA
:
And when he delivers packages and customers need to sign their receipts, I—

G
EORGE
:
She’s the pen, I’m the notepad
.

M
ARTHA
:
George, don’t interrupt.

G
EORGE
:
All I’m saying is that Hermes couldn’t do his job without us!

Phone, notepad, pen—it sounds like you guys wear a lot of hats.


G
EORGE
:
Did you say
rats
?

M
ARTHA
:
No, no, he said
hats
. Because we do a lot of different things
,
we wear a lot of different
hats
.

G
EORGE
:
Rats are delicious
.

M
ARTHA
:
Not rats with an R, HATS with an
—

G
EORGE
:
All this talk about rats is making me hungry. Let’s go ge
t
lunch
.

L
EO BLAMED THE
W
INDEX
.
He should’ve known better. Now his entire project—two months of work—might literally blow up in his face.

He stormed around Bunker 9, cursing himself for being so stupid, while his friends tried to calm him down.

“It’s okay,” Jason said. “We’re here to help.”

“Just tell us what happened,” Piper urged.

Thank goodness they’d answered his distress call so quickly. Leo couldn’t turn to anyone else. Having his best friends at his side made him feel better, though he wasn’t sure they could stop the disaster.

Jason looked cool and confident as usual—all surfer-dude handsome with his blond hair and sky-blue eyes. The scar on his mouth and the sword at his side gave him a rugged appearance, like he could handle anything.

Piper stood next to him in her jeans and orange camp T-shirt.

Her long brown hair was braided on one side. Her dagger Katoptris gleamed at her belt. Despite the situation, her multicolored eyes sparkled like she was trying to suppress a smile. Now that Jason and she were officially together, Piper looked like that a lot.

Leo took a deep breath. “Okay, guys. This is
serious
. Buford’s gone. If we don’t get him back, this whole place is going to explode.”

Piper’s eyes lost some of that smiley sparkle. “Explode? Um…okay. Just calm down and tell us who Buford is.”

She probably didn’t do it on purpose, but Piper had this child-of-Aphrodite power called
charmspeak
that made her voice hard to ignore. Leo felt his muscles relaxing. His mind cleared a little.

“Fine,” he said. “Come here.”

He led them across the hangar floor, carefully skirting some of his more dangerous projects. In his two months at Camp Half-Blood, Leo had spent most of his time at Bunker 9. After all, he’d rediscovered the secret workshop. Now it was like a second home to him. But he knew his friends still felt uncomfortable here.

He couldn’t blame them. Built into the side of a limestone cliff deep in the woods, the bunker was part weapons depot, part machine shop, and part underground safe house, with a little bit of Area 51–style craziness thrown in for good measure. Rows of workbenches stretched into the darkness. Tool cabinets, storage closets, cages full of welding equipment, and stacks of construction material made a labyrinth of aisles so vast, Leo figured he’d only explored about ten percent of it so far. Overhead ran a series of catwalks and pneumatic tubes for delivering supplies, plus a high-tech lighting and sound system that Leo was just starting to figure out.

A large magical banner hung over the center of the production floor. Leo had recently discovered how to change the display, like the Times Square JumboTron, so now the banner read:
Merry Christmas! All your presents belong to Leo!

He ushered his friends to the central staging area. Decades ago, Leo’s metallic friend Festus the bronze dragon had been created here. Now, Leo was slowly assembling his pride and joy—the
Argo II
.

At the moment, it didn’t look like much. The keel was laid—a length of Celestial bronze curved like an archer’s bow, two hundred feet from bow to stern. The lowest hull planks had been set in place, forming a shallow bowl held together by scaffolding. Masts lay to one side, ready for positioning. The bronze dragon figurehead—formerly the head of Festus—sat nearby, carefully wrapped in velvet, waiting to be installed in its place of honor.

Most of Leo’s time had been spent in the middle of the ship, at the base of the hull, where he was building the engine that would run the warship.

He climbed the scaffolding and jumped into the hull. Jason and Piper followed.

“See?” Leo said.

Fixed to the keel, the engine apparatus looked like a high-tech jungle gym made from pipes, pistons, bronze gears, magical disks, steam vents, electric wires, and a million other magical and mechanical pieces. Leo slid inside and pointed out the combustion chamber.

It was a thing of beauty, a bronze sphere the size of a basketball, its surface bristling with glass cylinders so it looked like a mechanical starburst. Gold wires ran from the ends of the cylinders, connecting to various parts of the engine. Each cylinder was filled with a different magical and highly dangerous substance. The central sphere had a digital clock display that read
66:21
. The maintenance panel was open. Inside, the core was empty.

“There’s your problem,” Leo announced.

Jason scratched his head. “Uh…what are we looking at?”

Leo thought it was pretty obvious, but Piper looked confused too.

“Okay,” Leo sighed, “you want the full explanation or the short explanation?”

“Short,” Piper and Jason said in unison.

Leo gestured to the empty core. “The syncopator goes here. It’s a multi-access gyro-valve to regulate flow. The dozen glass tubes on the outside? Those are filled with powerful, dangerous stuff. That glowing red one is Lemnos fire from my dad’s forges. This murky stuff here? That’s water from the River Styx. The stuff in the tubes is going to power the ship, right? Like radioactive rods in a nuclear reactor. But the mix ratio has to be controlled, and the timer is already operational.”

Leo tapped the digital clock, which now read
65:15
. “That means without the syncopator, this stuff is all going to vent into the chamber at the same time, in sixty-five minutes. At that point, we’ll get a very nasty reaction.”

Jason and Piper stared at him. Leo wondered if he’d been speaking English. Sometimes when he was agitated he slipped into Spanish, like his mom used to do in her workshop. But he was pretty sure he’d used English.

“Um…” Piper cleared her throat. “Could you make the short explanation shorter?”

Leo palm-smacked his forehead. “Fine. One hour. Fluids mix. Bunker goes ka-boom. One square mile of forest turns into a smoking crater.”

“Oh,” Piper said in a small voice. “Can’t you just…turn it off?”

“Gee, I didn’t think of that!” Leo said. “Let me just hit this switch and—
No
, Piper. I can’t turn it off. This is a tricky piece of machinery. Everything has to be assembled in a certain order in a certain amount of time. Once the combustion chamber is rigged, like this, you can’t just leave all those tubes sitting there. The engine has to be put into motion. The countdown clock started automatically, and I’ve got to install the syncopator before the fuel goes critical. Which would be fine except…well, I lost the syncopator.”

Jason folded his arms. “You
lost
it. Don’t you have an extra? Can’t you pull one out of your tool belt?”

Leo shook his head. His magic tool belt could produce a lot of great stuff. Any kind of common tool—hammers, screwdrivers, bolt cutters, whatever—Leo could pull out of the pockets just by thinking about it. But the belt couldn’t fabricate complicated devices or magic items.

“The syncopator took me a week to make,” he said. “And yes, I made a spare. I always do. But that’s lost too. They were both in Buford’s drawers.”

“Who is Buford?” Piper asked. “And why are you storing syncopators in his drawers?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Buford is a table.”

“A table,” Jason repeated. “Named Buford.”

“Yes, a table.” Leo wondered if his friends were losing their hearing. “A magic walking table. About three feet high, mahogany top, bronze base, three movable legs. I saved him from one of the supply closets and got him in working order. He’s just like the tables my dad has in his workshop. Awesome helper; carries all my important machine parts.”

“So what happened to him?” Piper asked.

Leo felt a lump rising in his throat. The guilt was almost too much. “I—I got careless. I polished him with Windex, and…he ran away.”

Jason looked like he was trying to figure out an equation. “Let me get this straight. Your table ran away…because you polished him with Windex.”

“I know, I’m an idiot!” Leo moaned. “A brilliant idiot, but still an idiot. Buford
hates
being polished with Windex. It has to be Lemon Pledge with extra-moisturizing formula. I was distracted. I thought maybe just once he wouldn’t notice. Then I turned around for a while to install the combustion tubes, and when I looked for Buford…”

Leo pointed to the giant open doors of the bunker. “He was gone. Little trail of oil and bolts leading outside. He could be anywhere by now, and he’s got both syncopators!”

Piper glanced at the digital clock. “So…we have exactly one hour to find your runaway table, get back your synco-whatsit, and install it in this engine, or the
Argo II
explodes, destroying Bunker Nine and most of the woods.”

“Basically,” Leo said.

Jason frowned. “We should alert the other campers. We might have to evacuate them.”

“No!” Leo’s voice broke. “Look, the explosion won’t destroy the whole camp. Just the woods. I’m pretty sure. Like sixty-five percent sure.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Piper muttered.

“Besides,” Leo said, “we don’t have time, and I—I
can’t
tell the others. If they find out how badly I’ve messed up…”

Jason and Piper looked at each other. The clock display changed to
59:00
.

“Fine,” Jason said. “But we’d better hurry.”

As they trudged through the woods, the sun started to set. The camp’s weather was magically controlled, so it wasn’t freezing and snowing like it was in the rest of Long Island, but still Leo could tell it was late December. In the shadows of the huge oak trees, the air was cold and damp. The mossy ground squished under their feet.

Leo was tempted to summon fire in his hand. He’d gotten better at that since coming to camp, but he knew the nature spirits in the woods didn’t like fire. He didn’t want to be yelled at by any more dryads.

Christmas Eve. Leo couldn’t believe it was here already. He’d been working so hard in Bunker 9, he’d hardly noticed the weeks passing. Usually around the holidays he would be goofing around, pranking his friends, dressing up like Taco Claus (his personal invention), and leaving carne asada tacos in people’s socks and sleeping bags, or pouring eggnog down his friends’ shirts, or making up inappropriate lyrics to Christmas carols. This year, he was all serious and hardworking. Any teacher he’d ever had would laugh if Leo described himself that way.

Thing was, Leo had never cared so much about a project before. The
Argo II
had to be ready by June if they were going to start their big quest on time. And while June seemed a long way away, Leo knew he’d barely have time to make the deadline. Even with the entire Hephaestus cabin helping him, constructing a magic flying warship was a huge task. It made launching a NASA spaceship look easy. They’d had so many setbacks, but all Leo could think about was getting the ship finished. It would be his masterpiece.

Also, he wanted to get the dragon figurehead installed. He missed his old friend Festus, who’d literally crashed and burned on their last quest. Even if Festus would never be the same again, Leo hoped he could reactivate his brain by using the ship’s engines. If Leo could give Festus a second life, he wouldn’t feel so bad.

But none of that would happen if the combustion chamber exploded. It would be game over. No ship. No Festus. No quest. Leo would have no one to blame but himself. He really hated Windex.