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Chapter 51
Pandora's Pithos
Volume 5: The Last Olympian
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Silena had called Percy in a panic shortly after Pallas vanished, reporting that he needed to get to Annabeth, who wasn't doing well. With him, he took Will Solace from the Apollo cabin, leaving the rest of his siblings to keep searching for Michael Yew - who had disappeared without a trace after the bridge had exploded.
They borrowed a Yamaha FZ1 from a sleeping biker and drove to the Plaza Hotel at speeds that would've given his mom a heart attack. Even though Percy had never driven a motorcycle before, he didn't find it that hard; it was very similar to a Pegasus.
Along the way, Percy noticed a lot of empty pedestals that usually held statues. Plan twenty-three seemed to be working. Annabeth had set it into motion on the way to the Hudson...thinking of Annabeth brought a sharp pain to his chest, and he sped up the Yamaha.
It only took them five minutes to reach the Plaza—an old-fashioned white stone hotel with a gabled blue roof, sitting at the southeast corner of Central Park. Tactically speaking, the Plaza wasn't the best place for a headquarters. It wasn't the tallest building in town, or the most centrally located. But it had old-school style and had attracted a lot of famous demigods over the years, like the Beatles and Alfred Hitchcock, so it made sense for them.
Percy gunned the Yamaha over the curb and swerved to a stop at the fountain outside the hotel. Will and him hopped off. The statue at the top of the fountain called down, "Oh, fine. I suppose you want me to watch your bike, too!"
She was a life-size bronze standing in the middle of a granite bowl. She wore only a bronze sheet around her legs, and she was holding a basket of metal fruit. "Are you supposed to be Demeter?" He asked.
A bronze apple sailed over Percy's head. "Everyone thinks I'm Demeter!" she complained. "I'm Pompona, the Roman Goddess of Plenty, but why should you care? Nobody cares about the minor gods. If you cared about the minor gods, you wouldn't be losing this war! Three cheers for Morpheus and Hecate, I say!"
"Watch the bike," Percy told her.
Pompona cursed in Latin and threw more fruit as Will and Percy ran toward the hotel. The lobby was impressive with the crystal chandeliers and the passed-out rich people, but Percy didn't pay much attention. A couple of Hunters gave them directions to the elevators, and they rode up to the penthouse suites.
Demigods had completely taken over the top floors. Campers and Hunters were crashed out on sofas, washing up in the bathrooms, ripping silk draperies to bandage their wounds, and helping themselves to snacks and sodas from the minibars.
A couple of timber wolves were drinking out of the toilets. Percy was relieved to see that so many of his friends had made it through the night alive, but everybody looked beat up.
"Percy!" Jake Mason clapped him on the shoulder. "We're getting reports—"
"Later," Percy said. "Where's Annabeth?"
"The terrace. She's alive, man, but..."
He pushed past him carelessly.
Under different circumstances he would've loved the view from the terrace. It looked straight down onto Central Park. The morning was clear and bright—perfect for a picnic or a hike, or pretty much anything except fighting monsters. Annabeth lay on a lounge chair. Her face was pale and beaded with sweat. Even though she was covered in blankets, she shivered. Silena Beauregard was wiping her forehead with a cool cloth.
YOU ARE READING
Prophesied Powder, PJO
Fanfiction(Atropos cuts the threads of Human Fate.) Pat was destined for something great. Apollo himself had said it. The only issue is, no one knows what he's meant to do or how he's involved in the so-called Great Prophecy. Percy is the only son of Poseidon...
