The Hidden Oracle: Chapters 7–12

Their cadaverous mouths gaped.

I crossed my arms and feigned arrogant indifference.

You’ll destroy me. Then you’ll spread every known malady across the world. You’ve been wanting to do that ever since Pandora let you out of that jar.

The three corpses shambled forward.

I found myself flat on my back, spots dancing in my eyes, the cadaverous visage of the plague spirit looming over me.

I remembered that day at Abbey Road Studios, when my envy led me to set rancor in the hearts of John and Paul and break up the Beatles.

I tried to brush off the disease cloud, but it was not as easy as swatting a fly or an uppity mortal.

It got up, wobbling on its heavily perforated legs.

She put her hand tentatively on the creature’s curly head.

Meg stroked the karpos’s curly brown hair, which elicited a demonic purring from the creature’s throat.

Normally I could navigate by the sun—which shouldn’t be a surprise, since I spent millennia driving it across the sky—but under the canopy of trees, the light was diffuse, the shadows confusing.

She put her face nose-to-nose with mine so my own derelict reflection stared back at me from the lenses of her cat-eye glasses.

In their jeans and winter coats, with assorted weapons at their sides, they were the dourest bunch of marshmallow roasters I had ever seen.

Through the smoke, I saw a portly man in a mauve suit.

My cursed mortal brain was too small, too inflexible. It had jettisoned four thousand years of memories like so much ballast.

My cursed mortal brain was too small, too inflexible. It had jettisoned four thousand years of memories like so much ballast.

Fire consumed me as the sun chariot careened toward the earth.

He was so poised, so unassuming, so free of acne.

One was a tall boy of about thirteen, his skin burnished bronze and his cornrows woven like DNA helixes.

That meant a maximum capacity of four hundred demigods—enough for several phalanxes or one really amazing yacht party.

Another fellow glared at me as he spliced barbed wire outside the Ares cabin.

Me—the manly paragon of romance—reduced to a gawky, inexperienced boy!

At his side hung a Stygian iron sword. “I remember you,” I said. “Is it Nicholas, son of Hades?”

I’ll admit I did not understand Will’s attraction to a child of Hades, but if the dark foreboding type was what made Will happy...

Dormant grapevines festooned the dining area—no doubt the work of my old friend Dionysus.

At any rate, last August, while I was...indisposed, my ancient foe Python was released from Tartarus. He reclaimed the cave of Delphi.

She was artistic, unpredictable, impulsive, and rule- averse—all qualities I dearly admired.

But a week later, Ellis Wakefield disappeared from the Ares cabin. Same story: empty bunk, no signs that he had either left on his own or was...ah, taken. Ellis was an impetuous young man. It was conceivable he might have charged off on some ill-advised adventure, but it made me uneasy.

It was the look of a seasoned coach scouting new talent.

I’d never dreamed the centaur would look at me that way, as if I had something to prove to him, as if my mettle were untested.

How did storytellers get the idea that I vanquished Python so quickly?

Sitting outdoors in the warmth of the torches and braziers, I felt only slightly chilly.

As my children, they were inherently inclined to the utmost grace.

Will and Nico sat shoulder to shoulder, bantering good-naturedly.

Most sat alone at their respective tables—Sherman Yang for Ares; a girl I did not know for Aphrodite; another girl for Demeter.

Chiron himself, again in full centaur form, stood at the head table, sipping his bug juice as he chatted with two satyrs, but their mood was subdued.

I tried to bring up a clear mental picture of Camp Jupiter, the Roman enclave near Berkeley, California, but the details were hazy.

(Of course, the hologram was only three inches tall, but even in real life Leo was not much more imposing.)

And vaya con queso...I believe he is admonishing us to go with cheese, which is always sound advice.

The sorceress and I had a rocky history, but even I had to admit she was beguiling. If she’d captured Leo’s heart, it was entirely possible he had gotten sidetracked.