Ethereal

II

Nothing caps off the perfect morning like a long taxi ride with an idiotic boy.

Percy kept trying to talk to me, but I ignored him while texting Annabeth to fill her in and to tell the border patrol that we would be back earlier than expected. All he managed to get off me was that I'd had a monster-infested spring at Camp, and I'd learned nothing about the whereabouts of Nico di Angelo (long story).

"Any word on Luke?" he asked.

I shook my head. I knew this was a touchy subject for Annabeth, who had always admired Luke, the former head counsellor for Hermes who had betrayed us and joined the evil Titan Lord Kronos, so it was best that we got this conversation over and done with while she wasn't here. She wouldn't admit it, but I knew she still liked him. When we'd fought Luke on Mount Tamalpais last winter, he'd somehow survived a fifty-foot fall off a cliff. Now, as far as I knew, he was still sailing around on his demon-infested cruise ship while his chopped-up Lord Kronos re-formed, bit by bit, in a golden sarcophagus, biding his time until he had enough power to challenge the Olympian gods.

In demigod-speak, we call this a "problem."

"Mount Tam is still overrun with monsters," I said. "I didn't dare go close, but I don't think Luke is up there. I think we would know if he was."

That didn't make me feel much better. "What about Grover?"

"He's at camp," I said. "We'll see him today."

"Did he have any luck? I mean, with the search for Pan?"

I messed my arrow ring.

"You'll see, " I said. 

As we headed through Brooklyn, I let Percy use my phone to call his mom. Half-bloods try not to use cell phones if we can avoid it because broadcasting our voices is like sending up a flare to the monsters: Here I am! Please eat me now! But I figured this call was important. He left a message on his home voice mail, trying to explain what had happened at Goode. I don't think he did a very good job. He told his mom we were fine, she shouldn't worry, but he was going to stay at camp until things cooled down.

We rode in silence after that. The city melted away until we were off the expressway and rolling through the countryside of northern Long Island, past orchards and wineries and fresh produce stalls.

I stared at the phone number Rachel Elizabeth Dare had scrawled on Percy's hand. I knew it was crazy, but I was tempted to call her. Maybe she could help us understand what the empousa had been talking about—the camp burning, my friends imprisoned. And why had Kelli exploded into flames?

I knew monsters never truly died. Eventually—maybe weeks, months, or years from now—Kelli would re-form out of the primordial nastiness seething in the Underworld. But still, monsters didn't usually let themselves get destroyed so easily. If she really was destroyed.

The taxi exited on Route 25A. We headed through the woods along the North Shore until a low ridge of hills appeared on our left. I told the driver to pull over on Farm Road 3.141, at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

The driver frowned. "There ain't nothing here, miss. You sure you want out?"

"Yes, please," I handed him a roll of mortal cash, and the driver decided not to argue.

Percy and I hiked to the crest of the hill. The young guardian dragon was dozing, coiling around the pine tree, but he lifted his coppery head as we approached and let me scratch under his chin. Steam hissed out his nostrils like from a teakettle, and he went cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Hey, Peleus," I said. "Keeping everything safe?"

The dragon was now at least 12 feet long, and as thick around as the tree itself. Above his head, on the lowest branch of the pine tree, the Golden Fleece shimmered, its magic protecting the camp's borders from invasion. The dragon seemed relaxed like everything was okay. Below us, Camp Half-Blood looked peaceful— green fields, forest, shiny white Greek buildings. The four-story farmhouse we called the Big House sat proudly amid the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.