Heir of a Titan - Book 2 PJO

Chapter 52: Can't Argue with Fate

Our group was on our way out  when I spotted Hermes in a side courtyard of the palace. He was staring at an Iris-message in the mist of a fountain.  I nudged Percy. 

He glanced at the rest of the group. "We'll meet you at the elevator."

Raph looked at me and then at Hermes and then nodded. He kissed my forehead, and talking animatedly with Nico, they kept walking, Annabeth beside them listening. I watched for a second and then followed Percy.

Hermes didn't seem to notice us approach. The Iris-message images were going so fast I could hardly understand them. Mortal newscasts from all over the country flashed by: scenes of Typhon's destruction, the wreckage our battle had left across Manhattan, the president doing a news conference, the mayor of New York, some army vehicles riding down the Avenue of the Americas.

"Amazing," Hermes murmured. He turned toward us, and signed. "Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist...and mortal ignorance."

"Thanks, I guess." Percy looked offended. And I sniggered silently.

"Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality, you two, that was bold."

"It was the right choice." I signed. I had no regrets in turning it down.

Hermes looked back and forth between us curiously, then returned his attention to the Iris-message. "Look at them." He signed, "They've already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up with a logical explanation for that."

"How bad is the city?" Percy asked, watching with wide eyes.

Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few weeks; and of course I'll be helping."

"You?" I signed.

He nodded and explained, "I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary, help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth."

He looked bitter. George and Martha curled around his caduceus, but they were silent, which made me think that Hermes was really really angry. I probably should've kept quiet, (ha. good one, I'm always quiet, but I shouldn't have said anything.) but I signed, "I owe you an apology."

Hermes gave me a cautious look. "And why is that?"

"I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought- well..Percy did too, I'm throwing him under the bus with me. We thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

"I did know his future," Hermes signed miserably.

"But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he'd turn evil. You understood what he would do in the end. You knew he'd make the right choice. But you couldn't tell him."

Hermes stared at the fountain before he signed. "No one can tamper with fate, not even a god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would've made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him . . . that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

"You had to let him find his own path," I said, "and play his part in saving Olympus. I understand a bit more. Having the gift of sight is a curse at times, but I'm slowly understanding.