Death's Touch | Jason Grace

Seventeen

For the Feast, campers, Amazons and Lares crowded the mess hall for a lavish dinner. Even the fauns were invited, since they'd helped out by bandaging the wounded after the battle. Wind nymphs zipped around the room, delivering orders of pizza, burgers, steaks, salads, Chinese food, and burritos, all flying at terminal velocity.

Despite the exhausting battle, everyone was in good spirits. Casualties had been light, and the few campers who'd previously died and come back to life, like Gwen, hadn't been taken to the Underworld. Maybe Letus had turned a blind eye. Or maybe Pluto had given those folks a pass, like he had for Hazel. Whatever the case, nobody complained.

Colorful Amazon and Roman banners hung side-by-side from the rafters. The restored golden eagle stood proudly behind the praetor's table, and the walls were decorated with cornucopias—magical horns of plenty that spilled out recycling waterfalls of fruit, chocolate, and fresh-baked cookies.

The cohorts mingled freely with the Amazons, jumping from couch to couch as they pleased, and for once the soldiers of the Fifth were welcome everywhere. Cary changed seats so many times, she lost track of her dinner.

There was a lot of flirting and arm-wrestling—which seemed to be the same thing for the Amazons. At one point Cary was cornered by an Amazon—one who'd been loyal to Hylla. She explained that she technically still had a boyfriend and that he was most like not dead. The Amazon told her what had happened after they'd left Seattle—how Hylla had defeated her challenger Otrera in two consecutive duels to the death, so that the Amazons were now calling their queen Hylla Twice-Kill.

"Otrera stayed dead the second time," she said. "We have you to thank for that. If you ever need a girlfriend... well, I'll be in Seattle."

Cary couldn't tell if she was being serious, but she thanked her and switched seats again.

Once everyone had eaten and the plates stopped flying, Reyna made a short speech. She formally welcomed the Amazons, thanking them for their help. Then she hugged her sister and everybody applauded.

Reyna raised her hands for quiet. "My sister and I haven't always seen eye to eye—"

Hylla laughed. "That's an understatement."

"She joined the Amazons," Reyna continued. "I joined Camp Jupiter. But looking around this room, I think we both made good choices. Strangely, our destinies were made possible by the hero you all just raised to praetor on the battlefield—Percy Jackson."

More cheering. The sisters raised their glasses to Percy and beckoned him forward.

Everybody asked for a speech, but Percy didn't know what to say. He protested that he really wasn't the best person for praetor, but the campers drowned him out with applause. Reyna took away his probatio neck plate.

Octavian shot him a dirty look, then turned to the crowd and smiled like this was all his idea. He ripped open a teddy bear and pronounced good omens for the coming year—Fortuna would bless them! He passed his hand over Percy's arm and shouted: "Percy Jackson, son of Neptune, first year of service!"

The Roman symbols burned onto Percy's arm: a trident, SPQR, and a single stripe. It looked like he trying not to scream, but the fire was gone in an instant.

Octavian embraced him and whispered something in his ear.

Then Reyna gave him an eagle medal and purple cloak, symbols of the praetor. "You earned these, Percy."

Queen Hylla pounded him on the back. "And I've decided not to kill you."

"Um, thanks," Percy said.

He made his way around the mess hall one more time, because all the campers wanted him at their table. Vitellius the Lar followed, stumbling over his shimmering purple toga and readjusting his sword, telling everyone how he'd predicted Percy's rise to greatness.