Rick Riordan
The Last Olympian - 05
We zigzagged along several blocks and continued south on Park Avenue.
Boss! Hey, boss! Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blackjack speeding along next to us,
darting back and forth to avoid the pig's wings.
"Watch out!" I told him.
Hop on! Blackjack whinnied. I can catch you . . . probably.
That wasn't very reassuring. Grand Central lay dead ahead. Above the main entrance stood
the giant statue of Hermes, which I guess hadn't been activated because it was so high up. I was
flying right toward him at the speed of demigod-smashing.
"Stay alert!" I told Blackjack. "I've got an idea."
Oh, I hate your ideas.
I swung outward with all my might. Instead of smashing into the Hermes statue, I whipped
around it, circling the rope under its arms. I thought this would tether the pig, but I'd underestimated
the momentum of a thirty-ton sow in flight. Just as the pig wrenched the statue loose from its
pedestal, I let go. Hermes went for a ride, taking my place as the pig's passenger, and I free-fell
toward the street.
In that split second I thought about the days when my mom used to work at the Grand
Central candy shop. I thought how bad it would be if I ended up as a grease spot on the pavement.
Then a shadow swooped under me, and thump—I was on Blackjack's back. It wasn't the
most comfortable landing. In fact, when I yelled "OW!" my voice was an octave higher than usual.
Sorry, boss, Blackjack murmured.
"No problem," I squeaked. "Follow that pig!"
The porker had taken a right at East 42nd and was flying back toward Fifth Avenue. When it
flew above the rooftops, I could see fires here and there around the city. It looked like my friends
were having a rough time. Kronos was attacking on several fronts. But at the moment, I had
my
own problems.
The Hermes statue was still on its leash. It kept bonking into buildings and spinning around.
The pig swooped over an office building, and Hermes plowed into a water tower on the roof,
blasting water and wood everywhere.
Then something occurred to me.
"Get closer," I told Blackjack.
He whinnied in protest.
"Just within shouting distance," I said. "I need to talk to the statue."
Now I'm sure you've lost it, boss, Blackjack said, but he did what I asked. When I was close
enough to see the statue's face clearly, I yelled, "Hello, Hermes! Command sequence: Daedalus
Twenty-three. Kill Flying Pigs! Begin Activation!"
Immediately the statue moved its legs. It seemed confused to find that it was no longer on
top of Grand Central Terminal. It was, instead, being given a sky-ride on the end of a rope by a large
winged sow. It smashed through the side of a brick building, which I think made it a little mad. It
shook its head and began to climb the rope.
I glanced down at the street. We were coming up on the main public library, with the big
marble lions flanking the steps. Suddenly I had a weird thought: Could stone statues be automatons
too? It seemed like a long shot, but . . .
"Faster!" I told Blackjack. "Get in front of the pig, Taunt him!"
Um, boss—
"Trust me," I said. "I can do this . . . probably."
Oh, sure. Mock the horse.
Blackjack burst through the air. He could fly pretty darned fast when he wanted to. He got in
front of the pig, which now had a metal Hermes on its back.
Blackjack whinnied, You smell like ham! He kicked the pig in the snout with his back hooves
and went into a steep dive. The pig screamed in rage and followed.
We barreled straight for the front steps of the library. Blackjack slowed down just enough for
me to hop off, then he kept flying toward the main doors.
I yelled out, "Lions! Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Kill Flying Pigs! Begin
Activation!"
The lions stood up and looked at me. They probably thought I was teasing them. But just
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