𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐨𝐜

¸„.-•~°ˆ˜¨ 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 ¨˜ˆ°~•-.„¸

Percy grabbed Will Solace from the Apollo cabin and told the rest of his siblings to keep searching for Michael Yew.

They borrowed a Yamaha FZI from a sleeping biker and drove to the Plaza Hotel at speeds that would've given Sally Jackson a heart attack.

Percy had never driven a motorcycle before, but it wasn't any harder than riding a pegasus.

Along the way, he noticed a lot of empty pedestals that usually held statues. Plan twenty-three seemed to be working.

Percy didn't know if that was good or bad.

It only took 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 Percy figured they were in good company.

Percy gunned the Yamaha over the curb and swerved to a stop at the fountain outside the hotel.

Will and Percy 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.

Percy had never paid her too much attention before. Then again, she'd never talked to him before.

"Are you supposed to be Demeter?" Percy asked.

A bronze apple sailed over his 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 Percy and Will ran toward the hotel.

Percy had never actually been inside the Plaza.

The lobby was impressive, with the crystal chandeliers and the passed-out rich people, but he 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 Phoenix?"

"The terrace. She's alive, man, but..."

Percy pushed past him.

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.

Phoenix lay on a lounge chair. Her face was pale and beaded with sweat. Even though she was covered in blankets, she shivered.