The Son of Neptune (The Heroes of Olympus, #2)

by Rick Riordan

A vague sadness weighed on Percy’s chest. Something told him he’d been to San Francisco before. The city had some connection to Annabeth—the only person he could remember from his past. His memory of her was frustratingly dim. The wolf had promised he would see her again and regain his memory—if he succeeded in his journey.

Thank god

He slung off his backpack. He’d managed to grab a lot of supplies at the Napa Bargain Mart: a portable GPS, duct tape, lighter, superglue, water bottle, camping roll, a Comfy Panda Pillow Pet (as seen on TV), and a Swiss army knife—pretty much every tool a modern demigod could want.

Then he thought about Annabeth, the only part of his old life he was sure about. He had to find her.

“The Little Tiber,” said June sympathetically. “It flows with the power of the original Tiber, river of the empire. This is your last chance to back out, child. The mark of Achilles is a Greek blessing. You can’t retain it if you cross into Roman territory. The Tiber will wash it away.” Percy was too exhausted to understand all that, but he got the main point. “If I cross, I won’t have iron skin anymore?”

Annabeth, Percy thought. He forged into the river. It was icy cold, much swifter than he’d imagined, but that didn’t bother him. New strength surged through his limbs. His senses tingled like he’d been injected with caffeine. He reached the other side and put the old woman down as the camp’s gates opened. Dozens of kids in armor poured out.

“Thank you, Percy Jackson, for bringing me to Camp Jupiter.” One of the girls made a choking sound. “Percy…Jackson?” She sounded as if she recognized his name. Percy focused on her, hoping to see a familiar face.

“Juno, huh?” he said. “If I passed your test, can I have my memory and my life back?” The goddess smiled. “In time, Percy Jackson, if you succeed here at camp. You’ve done well today, which is a good start. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.” She turned to the other kids. “Romans, I present to you the son of Neptune. For months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake. His fate is in your hands. The Feast of Fortune comes quickly, and Death must be unleashed if you are to stand any hope in the battle. Do not fail me!”

“Fuzzy bits and pieces.” Percy glanced at the greyhounds. He didn’t want to mention Annabeth. It seemed too private, and he was still confused about where to find her. He was sure they’d met at a camp—but this one didn’t feel like the right place.

Also, he was reluctant to share his one clear memory: Annabeth’s face, her blond hair and gray eyes, the way she laughed, threw her arms around him, and gave him a kiss whenever he did something stupid. She must have kissed me a lot, Percy thought. He feared that if he spoke about that memory to anyone, it would evaporate like a dream. He couldn’t risk that.

Reyna studied him. “You’re old for a recruit. You’re what, sixteen?” “I think so,” Percy said. “If you spent that many years on your own, without training or help, you should be dead. A son of Neptune? You’d have a powerful aura that would attract all kinds of monsters.”

Reyna sighed. “Well, the dogs haven’t eaten you, so I suppose you’re telling the truth.” “Great,” Percy said. “Next time, can I take a polygraph?”

“I haven’t seen anyone like you guys before. Who’s Jason?” Reyna gave Hazel an irritated look. “He is…he was my colleague.” She waved her hand at the second empty chair. “The legion normally has two elected praetors. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, was our other praetor until he disappeared last October.”

“He might not be dead,” Hazel said. “We haven’t given up.” Reyna grimaced. Percy got the feeling this guy Jason might’ve been more to her than just a colleague.

“We need only the best for the cohort. Does he have all his teeth? Can he fight? Does he clean stables?” “Yes, yes, and no,” Percy said. “Who are you?”

Hazel shook her head. “That’s the Temple of Mars Ultor.” “Mars…Ares, the war god?” “That’s his Greek name,” Hazel said. “But, yeah, same guy. Ultor means ‘the Avenger.’ He’s the second-most important god of Rome.” Percy wasn’t thrilled to hear that. For some reason, just looking at the ugly red building made him feel angry.

In the center stood a marble altar, where a kid in a toga was doing some sort of ritual in front of a massive golden statue of the big dude himself: Jupiter the sky god, dressed in a silk XXXL purple toga, holding a lightning bolt. “It doesn’t look like that,” Percy muttered. “What?” Hazel asked. “The master bolt,” Percy said. “What are you talking about?” “I—” Percy frowned. For a second, he’d thought he remembered something. Now it was gone. “Nothing, I guess.”

The boy turned. Percy had another one of those weird flashes: like this was somebody he should know. The kid was almost as pale as Octavian, but with dark eyes and messy black hair. He didn’t look anything like Hazel. He wore a silver skull ring, a chain for a belt, and a black T-shirt with skull designs. At his side hung a pure-black sword. For a microsecond when he saw Percy, the boy seemed shocked—panicked even, like he’d been caught in a searchlight. “This is Percy Jackson,” Hazel said. “He’s a good guy. Percy, this is my brother, the son of Pluto.” The boy regained his composure and held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m Nico di Angelo.”

Until that morning, her brother Nico had been the most powerful demigod she knew. The others at Camp Jupiter saw him as a traveling oddball, about as harmless as the fauns. Hazel knew better. She hadn’t grown up with Nico, hadn’t even known him very long. But she knew Nico was more dangerous than Reyna, or Octavian, or maybe even Jason. Then she’d met Percy. At first, when she saw him stumbling up the highway with the old lady in his arms, Hazel had thought he might be a god in disguise. Even though he was beat up, dirty, and stooped with exhaustion, he’d had an aura of power. He had the good looks of a Roman god, with sea-green eyes and wind blown black hair.

Percy got a cheeseburger and a strange-looking soda that was bright blue. Hazel didn’t understand that, but Percy tried it and grinned. “This makes me happy,” he said. “I don’t know why…but it does.”

“What was that about?” Percy asked. “And what’s wrong with Dakota?” Frank sighed. “He’s okay. He’s a son of Bacchus, the wine god. He’s got a drinking problem.” Percy’s eyes widened. “You let him drink wine?” “Gods, no!” Hazel said. “That would be a disaster. He’s addicted to red Kool-Aid. Drinks it with three times the normal sugar, and he’s already ADHD—you know, attention deficit/hyperactive. One of these days, his head is going to explode.”

“But if we could figure out which vial was which, it might heal your memory.” Percy’s smile faded. He gazed across the hills. “Maybe…I guess. But you should hang on to those vials for now. There’s a battle coming. We may need them to save lives.” Frank stared at him, a little bit in awe. Percy had a chance to get his memory back, and he was willing to wait in case someone else needed the vial more? Romans were supposed to be unselfish and help their comrades, but Frank wasn’t sure anyone else at camp would have made that choice.

“So you don’t remember anything?” Frank asked. “Family, friends?” Percy fingered the clay beads around his neck. “Only glimpses. Murky stuff. A girlfriend…I thought she’d be at camp.” He looked at Frank carefully, as if making a decision. “Her name was Annabeth. You don’t know her, do you?”

‘He will go to camp and restore your reputation there. He will free Thanatos from his icy chains—’” “Wait, who?” “Thanatos,” Grandmother said impatiently. “The Greek name for Death.

Part of their problem was Percy. He fought like a demon, whirling through the defenders’ ranks in a completely unorthodox style, rolling under their feet, slashing with his sword instead of stabbing like a Roman would, whacking campers with the flat of his blade, and generally causing mass panic.

“That’s good,” the soldier said. “Kneeling is good. It’s been a long time since I’ve visited Camp Jupiter.” Frank noticed that one person wasn’t kneeling. Percy Jackson, his sword still in hand, was glaring at the giant soldier. “You’re Ares,” Percy said. “What do you want?”

“You’ve got spunk, demigod,” he said. “Ares is my Greek form. But to these followers, to the children of Rome, I am Mars—patron of the empire, divine father of Romulus and Remus.” “We’ve met,” Percy said. “We…we had a fight.…” The god scratched his chin, as if trying to recall. “I fight a lot of people. But I assure you—you’ve never fought me as Mars. If you had, you’d be dead. Now, kneel, as befits a child of Rome, before you try my patience.” Around Mars’s feet, the ground boiled in a circle of flame. “Percy,” Frank said, “please.” Percy clearly didn’t like it, but he knelt.

“Thanatos has been chained,” Mars announced. “The Doors of Death have been forced open, and no one is policing them—at least, not impartially. Gaea allows our enemies to pour forth into the world of mortals. Her sons the giants are mustering armies against you—armies that you will not be able to kill. Unless Death is unleashed to return to his duties, you will be overrun. You must find Thanatos and free him from the giants. Only he can reverse the tide.”

“You’re the god of war,” Percy spoke up. “Don’t you want endless carnage?” Mars’s infrared goggles glowed brighter. “Insolent, aren’t you? Perhaps I have fought you before. I can understand why I’d want to kill you. I’m the god of Rome, child. I am the god of military might used for a righteous cause. I protect the legions. I am happy to crush my enemies underfoot, but I don’t fight without reason. I don’t want war without end. You will discover this. You will serve me.” “Not likely,” Percy said.

“You can take two companions,” Mars said. “Those are the rules. One of them needs to be this kid.” He pointed at Percy. “He’s gonna learn some respect for Mars on this trip, or die trying. As for the second, I don’t care. Pick whomever you want. Have one of your senate debates. You all are good at those.”

PERCY SLEPT LIKE A MEDUSA VICTIM—which is to say, like a rock.

But what unnerved him more was that sleeping woman’s face in the hills. You will be my pawn. Percy didn’t play chess, but he was pretty sure that being a pawn was bad. They died a lot.

Percy imagined what that would be like: getting an apartment in this tiny replica of Rome, protected by the legion and Terminus the OCD border god. He imagined holding hands with Annabeth at a café. Maybe when they were older, watching their own kid chase seagulls across the forum… He shook the idea out of his head. He couldn’t afford to indulge in that kind of thinking. Most of his memories were gone, but he knew this place wasn’t his home. He belonged somewhere else, with his other friends.

“We’re going to confront this son of Gaea,” he said, managing to keep his composure. “We’ll get back your eagle and unchain this god…” He glanced at Hazel. “Thanatos, right?” She nodded. “Letus, in Roman. But his old Greek name is Thanatos. When it comes to Death…we’re happy to let him stay Greek.”

Pluto is the god of the Underworld, but the actual god of death, the one who’s responsible for making sure souls go to the afterlife and stay there—that’s Pluto’s lieutenant, Thanatos. He’s like…well, imagine Life and Death are two different countries. Everybody would like to be in Life, right? So there’s a guarded border to keep people from crossing back over without permission. But it’s a big border, with lots of holes in the fence. Pluto tries to seal up the breaches, but new ones keep popping up all the time. That’s why he depends on Thanatos, who’s like the border patrol, the police.” “Thanatos catches souls,” Percy said, “and deports them back to the Underworld.”

Octavian laughed. “Would you like us to charter you an airplane?” The idea made Percy nauseous. “No. Air travel…I have a feeling that would be bad, too. But a boat. Can you at least give us a boat?”

“The point is, Percy, you are the real power on this quest. You are a seasoned veteran. I’ve seen what you can do. A son of Neptune wouldn’t be my first choice, but if you return successfully from this mission, the legion might be saved. The praetorship will be yours for the taking. Together, you and I could expand the power of Rome. We could raise an army and find the Doors of Death, crush Gaea’s forces once and for all. You would find me a very helpful…friend.” She said that word like it could have several meanings, and he could pick which one. Percy’s feet started tapping on the floor, anxious to run. “Reyna…I’m honored, and all. Seriously. But I’ve got a girlfriend. And I don’t want power, or a praetorship.” Percy was afraid he’d make her mad. Instead she just raised her eyebrows. “A man who turns down power?” she said. “That’s not very Roman of you.

Reyna slid the silver ring across the table. “I can’t give you much help, but your journey will take you close to Seattle. I’m asking you for a favor, which may also help you. Find my sister Hylla.” “Your sister…the one who hates me?” “Oh, yes,” Reyna agreed. “She would love to kill you. But show her that ring as a token from me, and she may help you instead.” “May?”

But at the door of the principia, Percy couldn’t resist turning. “How did we destroy your home—that spa where you lived?” The metal greyhounds growled. Reyna snapped her fingers to silence them. “You destroyed the power of our mistress,” she said. “You freed some prisoners who took revenge on all of us who lived on the island. My sister and I…well, we survived. It was difficult. But in the long run, I think we are better off away from that place.” “Still, I’m sorry,” Percy said. “If I hurt you, I’m sorry.” Reyna gazed at him for a long time, as if trying to translate his words. “An apology? Not very Roman at all, Percy Jackson. You’d make an interesting praetor. I hope you’ll think about my offer.”

“I’ll be back,” he said. He felt pretty stupid talking to a T-shirt, but he was really thinking of Annabeth, and his old life. “I’m not leaving for good. But I have to help these guys. They took me in. They deserve to survive.”

Looking down at the valley, Percy understood why she cared so much. Even though he was new to Camp Jupiter, he felt a fierce desire to protect this place. A safe haven where demigods could build their lives—he wanted that to be part of his future. Maybe not the way Reyna imagined, but if he could share this place with Annabeth…

“But you don’t have—” Percy stopped himself. “Uh, sure.” He stood next to the armless statue. Terminus conducted a rigorous mental pat down. “You seem to be clean,” Terminus decided. “Do you have anything to declare?” “Yes,” Percy said. “I declare this is stupid.”

Whenever the local gang members came close enough to look in Percy’s eyes, they quickly veered away. He’d perfected his wolf stare over the last few months—a look that said: However bad you think you are, I’m worse. After strangling sea monsters and running over gorgons in a police car, Percy wasn’t scared of gangs.

Juno was right, you know. The sleepy voice of Gaea whispered in Percy’s mind, startling him so badly the boat rocked. You could have chosen a new life in the sea. You would have been safe from me there. Now it’s too late. You chose pain and misery. You’re part of my plan, now—my important little pawn. “Get off my ship,” Percy growled. “Uh, what?” Frank asked. Percy waited, but the voice of Gaea was silent. “Nothing,” he said. “Let’s see what this rowboat can do.”

docks, and she swore she saw an old homeless guy sitting among them. From across the water, the old man pointed a bony finger at Percy and mouthed something like Don’t even think about it. “Did you see that?” Hazel asked. Percy’s face was red in the sunset. “Yeah. I’ve been here before. I…I don’t know. I think I was looking for my girlfriend.” “Annabeth,” Frank said. “You mean, on your way to Camp Jupiter?” Percy frowned. “No. Before that.” He scanned the city like he was still looking for Annabeth until they passed under the Golden Gate Bridge and turned north.

“No,” Hazel said. “That was back in August, before I—um, before I got to camp. Jason told me about it. The legion destroyed the enemy’s palace and about a million monsters. Jason had to battle Krios—hand-to-hand combat with a Titan, if you can imagine.” “I can imagine,” Percy muttered. Hazel wasn’t sure what he meant, but Percy did remind her of Jason, even though they looked nothing alike. They had the same aura of quiet power, plus a kind of sadness, like they’d seen their destiny and knew it was only a matter of time before they met a monster they couldn’t beat.

Wheat started to re-form, but Percy pulled a lighter from his pack and sparked a flame. “Try it,” he warned, “and I’ll set this whole field on fire. Stay dead. Stay away from us, or the grass gets it!”

Worst of all, the farther north Percy went, the more those memories faded. He had started to feel better at Camp Jupiter, remembering random names and faces. But now even Annabeth’s face was getting dimmer. At R.O.F.L., when he’d tried to send an Iris-message to Annabeth, Fleecy had just shaken her head sadly. It’s like you’re dialing somebody, she said, but you’ve forgotten the number. Or someone is jamming the signal. Sorry, dear. I just can’t connect you. He was terrified that he’d lose Annabeth’s face completely when he got to Alaska. Maybe he’d wake up one day and not remember her name.

After a few more hours of navigating, Percy’s eyes started to droop. He was afraid he’d pass out from exhaustion. Then he caught a break. A killer whale surfaced next to the boat, and Percy struck up a mental conversation with him.

As they jogged through the lobby, Percy figured Annabeth would like this place. It was spacious and brightly lit, with big vaulted windows. Books and architecture, that was definitely her.… He froze in his tracks. “Percy?” Frank asked. “What’s wrong?” Percy tried desperately to concentrate. Where had those thoughts come from? Architecture, books…Annabeth had taken him to the library once, back home in—in—The memory faded. Percy slammed his fist into the side of a bookshelf.

“You keep slaves?” Hazel knew it might be dangerous to speak, but she was so outraged she couldn’t stop herself. “The men?” Kinzie snorted. “They’re not slaves. They just know their place. Now, move.”