New Year's Day ✸ Percy Jackson

014. i know heaven's a thing

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.

"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. Kathleen 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.

"Annabeth, Kathleen, Percy," Thalia interrupted. Her voice was urgent. She and Artemis were kneeling at Zoë's side, binding the huntress's wounds.

Kathleen, Annabeth, and Percy ran over to help, but there wasn't much they could do. They had no ambrosia or nectar. No regular medicine would help. 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 at that moment, Kathleen knew it wasn't just the poison that was killing her. It was her father's final blow. Zoë had known all along that the Oracle's prophecy was about her: she would die by a parent's hand. And yet she'd taken the quest anyway. She had chosen to save Percy, and Atlas's fury had broken her inside.

When Zoë's eyes turned to Kathleen, the girl felt like breaking down.

"I admire thy bravery, Kathleen," she said. "I apologize for forbidding thee sing in the van."

Kathleen sniffed. "You really think about that now?"

She managed a small smile. Then 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 me. "Do you still have the sword, Percy?"

He 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-" Percy started.

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