Rick Riordan
The Last Olympian - 05
with multicolored fish tails, and the heads and forelegs of white stallions. The hippocampus in front
was much bigger than the others—a ride fit for a Cyclops.
"Rainbow!" I called. "How's it going, buddy?"
He neighed a complaint.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," I said. "But it's an emergency. We need to get to camp."
He snorted.
"Tyson?" I said. "Tyson is fine! I'm sorry he's not here. He's a big general now in the Cyclops
army."
"NEEEEIGGGGH!"
"Yeah, I'm sure he'll still bring you apples. Now, about that ride . . ."
In no time, Annabeth, Nico, and I were zipping up the East River faster than Jet Skis. We
sped under the Throgs Neck Bridge and headed for Long Island Sound.
It seemed like forever until we saw the beach at camp. We thanked the hippocampi and
waded ashore, only to find Argus waiting for us. He stood in the sand with his arms crossed, his
hundred eyes glaring at us.
"Is she here?" I asked.
He nodded grimly.
"Is everything okay?" Annabeth said.
Argus shook his head.
We followed him up the trail. It was surreal being back at camp, because everything looked
so peaceful: no burning buildings, no wounded fighters. The cabins were bright in the sunshine, and
the fields glittered with dew. But the place was mostly empty.
Up at the Big House, something was definitely wrong. Green light was shooting out all the
windows, just like I'd seen in my dream about May Castellan. Mist—the magical kind—swirled
around the yard. Chiron lay on a horse-size stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing
around him. Blackjack cantered nervously in the grass.
Don't blame me, boss! he pleaded when he saw me. The weird girl made me do it!
Rachel Elizabeth Dare stood at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms were raised like she
was waiting for someone inside the house to throw her a ball.
"What's she doing?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get past the barriers?"
"She flew," one of the satyrs said, looking accusingly at Blackjack. "Right past the dragon,
right through the magic boundaries."
"Rachel!" I called, but the satyrs stopped me when I tried to go any closer.
"Percy, don't," Chiron warned. He winced as he tried to move. His left arm was in a sling, his
two back legs were in splints, and his head was wrapped in bandages. "You can't interrupt."
"I thought you explained things to her!"
"I did. And I invited her here."
I stared at him in disbelief. "You said you'd never let anyone try again! You said—"
"I know what I said, Percy. But I was wrong. Rachel had a vision about the curse of Hades.
She believes it may be lifted now. She convinced me she deserves a chance."
"And if the curse isn't lifted? If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!"
The Mist swirled around Rachel. She shivered like she was going into shock.
"Hey!" I shouted. "Stop!"
I ran toward her, ignoring the satyrs. I got within ten feet and hit something like an invisible
beach ball. I bounced back and landed in the grass.
Rachel opened her eyes and turned. She looked like she was sleepwalking—like she could
see me, but only in a dream.
"It's all right." Her voice sounded far away. "This is why I've come."
"You'll be destroyed!"
She shook her head. "This is where I belong, Percy. I finally understand why."
It sounded too much like what May Castellan had said. I had to stop her, but I couldn't even
get to my feet.
The house rumbled. The door flew open and green light poured out. I recognized the warm
musty smell of snakes.
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