“Thank you, Hermes,” Annabeth said. “And I…I wanted to say…I’m sorry about Luke.” The god’s expression hardened like he’d turned to marble. “You should’ve left that subject alone.” Annabeth stepped back nervously. “Sorry?” “SORRY doesn’t cut it!” George and Martha curled around the caduceus, which shimmered and changed into something that looked suspiciously like a high-voltage cattle prod. “You should’ve saved him when you had the chance,” Hermes growled at Annabeth. “You’re the only one who could have.” I tried to step between them. “What are you talking about? Annabeth didn’t—” “Don’t
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