Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of me, and there was my mother, frozen in a shower of gold, just as she was at the moment when the Minotaur began to squeeze her to death.
I couldn’t speak. I reached out to touch her, but the light was as hot as a bonfire.
“Yes,” Hades said with satisfaction. “I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change.”
I thought about the pearls in my pocket. Maybe they could get me out of this. If I could just get my mom free…
“Ah, the pearls,” Hades said, and my blood froze. “Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson.”
My hand moved against my will and brought out the pearls.
“Only three,” Hades said. “What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms.”
I looked at Annabeth and Grover. Their faces were grim.
“We were tricked,” I told them. “Set up.”
“Yes, but why?” Annabeth asked. “And the voice in the pit—”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “But I intend to ask.”
“Decide, boy!” Hades yelled.
“Percy.” Grover put his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t give him the bolt.”
“I know that.”
“Leave me here,” he said. “Use the third pearl on your mom.”
“No!”
“I’m a satyr,” Grover said. “We don’t have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won’t get me forever. I’ll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It’s the best way.”
“No.” Annabeth drew her bronze knife. “You two go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher’s license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I’ll cover you. I plan to go down fighting.”
“No way,” Grover said. “I’m staying behind.”
“Think again, goat boy,” Annabeth said.
“Stop it, both of you!” I felt like my heart was being ripped in two. They had both been with me through so much. I remembered Grover dive-bombing Medusa in the statue garden, and Annabeth saving us from Cerberus; we’d survived Hephaestus’s Waterland ride, the St. Louis Arch, the Lotus Casino. I had spent thousands of miles worried that I’d be betrayed by a friend, but these friends would never do that. They had done nothing but save me, over and over, and now they wanted to sacrifice their lives for my mom.
“I know what to do,” I said. “Take these.”
I handed them each a pearl.
Annabeth said, “But, Percy…”
I turned and faced my mother. I desperately wanted to sacrifice myself and use the last pearl on her, but I knew what she would say. She would never allow it. I had to get the bolt back to Olympus and tell Zeus the truth. I had to stop the war. She would never forgive me if I saved her instead. I thought about the prophecy made at Half-Blood Hill, what seemed like a million years ago. You will fail to save what matters most in the end.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’ll be back. I’ll find a way.”
The smug look on Hades’s face faded. He said, “Godling…?”
“I’ll find your helm, Uncle,” I told him. “I’ll return it. Remember about Charon’s pay raise.”
“Do not defy me—”
“And it wouldn’t hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls.”
“Percy Jackson, you will not—”
I shouted, “Now, guys!”
We smashed the pearls at our feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened.
Hades yelled, “Destroy them!”
The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame.
Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl fragments at my feet exploded with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. I was encased in a milky white sphere, which was starting to float off the ground.
Annabeth and Grover were right behind me. Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as we floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook and I knew it was not going to be a peaceful night in L.A.
“Look up!” Grover yelled. “We’re going to crash!”
Sure enough, we were racing right toward the stalactites, which I figured would pop our bubbles and skewer us.
“How do you control these things?” Annabeth shouted.
“I don’t think you do!” I shouted back.
We screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and…Darkness.
Were we dead?
No, I could still feel the racing sensation. We were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That was the power of the pearls, I realized—What belongs to the sea will always return to the sea.
For a few moments, I couldn’t see anything outside the smooth walls of my sphere, then my pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The two other milky spheres, Annabeth and Grover, kept pace with me as we soared upward through the water. And—ker-blam!
We exploded on the surface, in the middle of the Santa Monica Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, “Dude!”
I grabbed Grover and hauled him over to a life buoy. I caught Annabeth and dragged her over too. A curious shark was circling us, a great white about eleven feet long.
I said, “Beat it.”
The shark turned and raced away.
The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from us as fast as he could.
Somehow, I knew what time it was: early morning, June 21, the day of the summer solstice.
In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades’s fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after me right now.
But at the moment, the Underworld wasn’t my biggest problem.
I had to get to shore. I had to get Zeus’s thunderbolt back to Olympus. Most of all, I had to have a serious conversation with the god who’d tricked me.
TWENTY
I BATTLE MY JERK RELATIVE
A Coast Guard boat picked us up, but they were too busy to keep us for long, or to wonder how three kids in street clothes had gotten out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.
They dropped us off at the Santa Monica Pier with towels around our shoulders and water bottles that said I’M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and sped off to save more people.
Our clothes were sopping wet, even mine. When the Coast Guard boat had appeared, I’d silently prayed they wouldn’t pick me out of the water and find me perfectly dry, which might’ve raised some eyebrows. So I’d willed myself to get soaked. Sure enough, my usual waterproof magic had abandoned me. I was also barefoot, because I’d given my shoes to Grover. Better the Coast Guard wonder why one of us was barefoot than wonder why one of us had hooves.