The Hidden Oracle (The Trials of Apollo, #1)

by Rick Riordan

I will never understand how you mortals tolerate it. You live your entire life trapped in a sack of meat, unable to enjoy simple pleasures like changing into a hummingbird or dissolving into pure light.

“Why is everyone calling me a loser?” I asked weakly. The comment seemed unfair, even if I was beat-up and covered in garbage; but no one paid me any attention.

Percy was sitting on his bed, staring at the trail of blood droplets I had made across his carpet. “Sorry about that,” I said. Percy spread his hands. “Actually, I was thinking about the last time I had a nosebleed.”

:(

Zeus had held me responsible for Octavian’s delusions of grandeur. Zeus seemed to consider egotism a trait the boy had inherited from me. Which is ridiculous. I am much too self-aware to be egotistical.

“You do understand that I must find a way to return to Olympus,” I said. “This will probably involve many harrowing trials with a high chance of death. Can you turn down such glory?” “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can. Sorry.”

“I’m getting us to the beach. I fight better near water.” “Because Poseidon?” Meg asked, steadying herself against the door handle. “Yep,” Percy agreed. “That pretty much describes my entire life: Because Poseidon.”

“NOSOI?” PERCY PLANTED HIS FEET in a fighting stance. “You know, I keep thinking, I have now killed every single thing in Greek mythology. But the list never seems to end.” “You haven’t killed me yet,” I noted. “Don’t tempt me.”

It warmed my heart that my children had the right priorities: their skills, their images, their views on YouTube. Say what you will about gods being absentee parents; our children inherit many of our finest personality traits.

There’s an aura of death around you—a thick possibility of death.” Meg snorted. “Sounds like a weather forecast.”

Will put his hand on Nico’s shoulder. “Nico, we need to have another talk about your people skills.”

“But recently our phones have stopped working altogether. Mobile, landline, Internet…it doesn’t seem to matter. Even the archaic form of communication known as e-mail is strangely unreliable. The messages simply don’t arrive.” “Did you look in the junk folder?”

I had forgotten about Chiron’s tendency to lay out obvious and logical conclusions that I tried to avoid thinking about. It was an infuriating habit.

“Nico,” I said at last, “shouldn’t you be sitting at the Hades table?” He shrugged. “Technically, yes. But if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen. Cracks open in the floor. Zombies crawl out and start roaming around. It’s a mood disorder. I can’t control it. That’s what I told Chiron.” “And is it true?” I asked. Nico smiled thinly. “I have a note from my doctor.” Will raised his hand. “I’m his doctor.”

“Well, Leo isn’t here. He died. Then he came back to life. And if I see him again, I’ll kill him.”

The others seemed confused. Then the glow became brighter: a holographic golden sickle with a few sheaves of wheat, rotating just above Meg McCaffrey. A boy in the crowd gasped. “She’s a communist!”

(Oh, what a sad commentary on my new mortal mind that I, who once dictated the course of nations, should get excited about open seating.)

Practice makes perfect Ha, ha, ha, I don’t think so Ignore my sobbing

Exercise is nothing more than a depressing reminder that one is not a god.

Oh, why does college have to happen to perfectly good people?

For six months, the boy had been working on a beacon to help his missing brother Leo. I wondered if anyone would work so hard to bring me back home to Olympus. I very much doubted it.

My son Asclepius had become the god of medicine by the time he was fifteen, and I couldn’t have been happier for him. It left me time for my other interests. Besides, it’s every god’s dream to have a child who grows up to be a doctor.

During the French Revolution, I got worried about my boy Louis XIV, the Sun King, then went down to check on him and found out he had died seventy-five years earlier.

I didn’t understand the purpose of the seeds, but it was comforting to know that in a dire emergency I could hit people with my ukulele while Meg planted geraniums.

The neighborhood isn’t even zoned for an Oracle.

Can we take a moment to appreciate that Meg did this on purpose? Terrified of insects, she could have fled and left me to be devoured. Instead, she chose to risk her life by distracting three tank-size ants. Throwing garbage at street thugs was one thing. But this…this was an entirely new level of foolishness. If I lived, I might have to nominate Meg McCaffrey for Best Sacrifice at the next Demi Awards.

“Pete,” I said, “do you still oversee sacred oaths?” “Well, yes, but—” “Then hear my solemn oath!” “Uh, the thing is, you’ve got this aura around you like you just broke a sacred oath, maybe one you swore on the River Styx? And if you break another oath with me—

“After I left Kronos…well, that man was so square, you could cut yourself on his corners, you know what I mean? He was the ultimate 1950s dad—wanted us to be Ozzie and Harriet or Lucy and Ricky or something.” “He—he swallowed his children alive.” “Yeah.” Rhea brushed her hair from her face. “That was some bad karma. Anyway, I left him.

For the first time, I understood the trials that awaited me. I knew the enemies I must face. I would need more than wind chimes and enlightenment. I’d need a miracle. And as a god, I can tell you that those are never distributed lightly.

I’ve turned too many people I cared about into flowers, Meg. I won’t—”

His chin was so weak, I was tempted to create a GoFundMe campaign to buy him a better jaw.

his descendants became increasingly arrogant and unstable (which I blamed on their mortal DNA; they certainly didn’t get those qualities from me).

Nero had been the last of the Julian line. I had not wept when he died. Now here he was, as grotesque and chinless as ever.

I am immortal on Wikipedia!”

“The Beast killed my father. This is Nero. He’s—he’s my stepfather.”

?????????????

Finally, in my mind, something clicked. I remembered how my father used to punish me centuries ago, when I was a young god learning the ways of Olympus. Zeus used to say, Don’t get on the wrong side of my lightning bolts, boy. As if the lightning bolt had a mind of its own—as if Zeus had nothing to do with the punishments he meted out upon me. Don’t blame me, his tone implied. It’s the lightning bolt that seared every molecule in your body. Many years later, when I killed the Cyclopes who made Zeus’s lightning, it was no rash decision. I’d always hated those lightning bolts. It was easier than hating my father.

I hummed “Y.M.C.A.,” which I used to perform with the Village People in my construction worker costume until the Indian chief and I got in a fight over—Never mind. That’s not important.

“Didn’t the sun chariot almost destroy the world once?” “Well, twice,” I said. “Three times, if you count the day I let Thalia Grace drive, but—”

“The chariot is only designed for three, and after that shadow-travel, Nico is going to pass out any second.” “No, I’m not,” Nico complained, then passed out.

“Good luck! I’m going to get the Lord of Darkness here some Gatorade!”

The weekend was here. Percy Jackson had arrived.

“All right, who unleashed the giant bronze guy? Apollo, did you do this?” “I am offended!” I cried. “I am only indirectly responsible for this! Also, I have a plan to fix it.” “Oh, yeah?” Percy glanced back at the destroyed dining pavilion. “How’s that going?”

“From here? It’s impossible! Where is that flying boy, Jason Grace?” Percy wiped the sweat and sand from his neck. “We’re fresh out of flying boys. And all the pegasi have stampeded.”

“I’m a stupid ugly mortal teenager! I’m nobody!” The self-pity just came pouring out. I thought for sure the earth would split in two when I called myself a nobody. The cosmos would stop turning. Percy and Chiron would rush to reassure me. None of that happened. Percy and Chiron just stared at me grimly.

Percy traced his finger across the Athena Parthenos’s big toe. “I’ve lost too many people to bad influence: Ethan Nakamura, Luke Castellan…We almost lost Nico, too….” He shook his head. “No. No more. You can’t give up on Meg. You guys are bound together. Besides, she’s one of the good guys.”

I followed his gaze. Spiraling down from the clouds was a large winged creature that glinted of Celestial bronze. On its back were two human-size figures. Their descent was silent, but in my mind a joyous fanfare of Valdezinator music proclaimed the good news. Leo had returned.

When they first saw each other, Percy and Calypso had hugged awkwardly. I hadn’t witnessed such a tense greeting since Patroclus met Achilles’s war prize, Briseis. (Long story. Juicy gossip. Ask me later.)

“Man, why does it not surprise me that modern corporations are run by zombie Roman emperors?”

“Oh, the middle third of the U.S.!” Leo spread his arms. “Piece of torta, then. We’ll just search the entire middle of the country!”

“Eh,” Leo said. “We took down Gaea in, like, forty seconds. This’ll be easy squeezy.” I seemed to recall that the lead-up to the fight with Gaea had involved months of suffering and near misses with death. Leo, in fact, had died.