Rick Riordan
Percy Jackson and the Olympians
129
129
Mist curled into a hundred smoky serpents, slithering up the porch columns, curling around
the house. Then the Oracle appeared in the doorway.
The withered mummy shuffled forward in her rainbow dress. She looked even worse than
usual, which is saying a lot. Her hair was falling out in clumps. Her leathery skin was cracking like
the seat of a worn-out bus. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into space, but I got the creepiest feeling
she was being drawn straight toward Rachel.
Rachel held out her arms. She didn't look scared.
"You've waited too long," Rachel said. "But I'm here now."
The sun blazed more brightly. A man appeared above the porch, floating in the air—a blond
dude in a white toga, with sunglasses and a cocky smile.
"Apollo," I said.
He winked at me but held up his finger to his lips.
"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he said. "You have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are
you sure you want this?"
Rachel nodded. "It's my destiny."
"Do you accept the risks?"
"I do."
"Then proceed," the god said.
Rachel closed her eyes. "I accept this role. I pledge myself to Apollo, God of Oracles. I open
my eyes to the future and embrace the past. I accept the spirit of Delphi, Voice of the Gods, Speaker
of Riddles, Seer of Fate."
I didn't know where she was getting the words, but they flowed out of her as the Mist
thickened. A green column of smoke, like a huge python, uncoiled from the mummy's mouth and
slithered down the stairs, curling affectionately around Rachel's feet. The Oracle's mummy
crumbled, falling away until it was nothing but a pile of dust in an old tie-dyed dress. Mist enveloped
Rachel in a column.
For a moment I couldn't see her at all. Then the smoke cleared.
Rachel collapsed and curled into the fetal position. Annabeth, Nico, and I rushed forward, but
Apollo said, "Stop! This is the most delicate part."
"What's going on?" I demanded. "What do you mean?"
Apollo studied Rachel with concern. "Either the spirit takes hold, or it doesn't."
"And if it doesn't?" Annabeth asked.
"Five syllables," Apollo said, counting them on his fingers. "That would be real bad."
Despite Apollo's warning, I ran forward and knelt over Rachel. The smell of the attic was
gone. The Mist sank into the ground and the green light faded. But Rachel was still pale. She was
barely breathing.
Then her eyes fluttered open. She focused on me with difficulty. "Percy."
"Are you okay?"
She tried to sit up. "Ow." She pressed her hands to her temples.
"Rachel," Nico said, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could see you dying."
"I'm all right," she murmured. "Please, help me up. The visions—they're a little disorienting."
"Are you sure you're okay?" I asked.
Apollo drifted down from the porch. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Oracle
of Delphi."
"You're kidding," Annabeth said.
Rachel managed a weak smile. "It's a little surprising to me too, but this is my fate. I saw it
when I was in New York. I know why I was born with true sight. I was meant to become the Oracle."
I blinked. "You mean you can tell the future now?"
"Not all the time," she said. "But there are visions, images, words in my mind. When
someone asks me a question, I . . . Oh no—"
"It's starting," Apollo announced.
Rachel doubled over like someone had punched her. Then she stood up straight and her
eyes glowed serpent green.
When she spoke, her voice sounded tripled—lik e three Rachels were talking at once:
"Seven half-bloods shall answer the call.