VIDEO GAMES! (p. jackson) (#1)

- thirteen

THEY LANDED AT CRISSY FIELD AFTER NIGHTFALL.

As soon as Dr. Chase stepped out of his Sopwith Camel, Annabeth ran to him and gave him a huge hug.

"Dad! You flew... you shot... oh my gods! That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"

Her father blushed. "Well, not bad for a middle-aged mortal, I suppose."

"But the celestial bronze bullets! How did you get those?"

"Ah, well. You did leave quite a few half-blood weapons in your room in Virginia, the last time you... left."

Annabeth looked down, embarrassed. Rose noticed Dr. Chase was careful not to say "ran away."

"I decided to try melting some down to make bullet casings," he continued. "Just a little experiment."

He said it like it was no big deal, but he had a gleam in his eye. Rose could understand all of a sudden why Athena, goddess of crafts and wisdom, had taken a liking to him. He was an excellent mad scientist at heart.

"Dad..." Annabeth faltered.

"Guys," Thalia interrupted. Her voice was urgent. She and Artemis were kneeling at Zoë's side, binding the Hunter's wounds.

The three of them ran over to help, but there wasn't much they could do. They had no ambrosia or nectar.

No regular medicine would help. It was dark, but Rose could see that Zoë didn't look good. She was shivering, and the faint glow that usually hung around her was fading.

"Can't you heal her with magic?" Percy asked Artemis. "I mean... you're a goddess."

Artemis looked troubled. "Life is a fragile thing, Percy. If the Fates will the string to be cut, there is little I can do. but I can try."

She tried to set her hand on Zoë's side, but Zoë gripped her wrist. She looked into the goddess's eyes, and some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Have I... served thee well?" Zoë whispered.

"With great honor," Artemis said softly. "The finest of my attendants."

Zoë's face relaxed. "Rest. At last."

"I can try to heal the poison, my brave one."

But in that moment, Rose knew it wasn't just the poison that was killing her. It was her father's final blow. Tears ran down her dirt-covered face.

Zoë's had known all along that the Oracle's prophecy was about her: she would die by a parent's hand.

Zoë took off one of her rings and pressed it into Rose's hand.

"Zoë—" Rose said.

"Keep it," she replied. "I am sorry that we never got along."

She saw Thalia, and took her hand.

"I am sorry we argued," Zoë said. "We could have been sisters."

"It's my fault," Thalia said, blinking hard. "You were right about Luke, about heroes, men— everything."

"Perhaps not all men," Zoë murmured. She smiled weakly at Percy. "Do you still have the sword, Percy?"

He didn't speak, but brought out Riptide and put the pen in her hand. She grasped it contentedly. "You spoke the truth, Percy Jackson. You are nothing like... like Hercules. I am honored that you carry this sword."

A shudder ran through her body.

"Zoë—" he said.

"Stars," she whispered. "I can see the stars again, my lady."