She sat on her bunk, using one of Daedalus’s 3-D-rendering programs to study a model of the Parthenon in Athens. She’d always yearned to visit it, both because she loved architecture and because it was the most famous temple to her mother.
Now she might get her wish, if they lived long enough to reach Greece. But the more she thought about the Mark of Athena, and the old Roman legend Reyna had mentioned, the more nervous she got.
She didn’t want to, but she recalled her argument with her mother. Even after so many weeks, the words still stung.
Annabeth had been riding the subway back from the Upper East Side after visiting Percy’s mom. During those long months when Percy was missing, Annabeth made the trip at least once a week—partly to give Sally Jackson and her husband Paul an update on the search, and partly because Annabeth and Sally needed to lift each other’s spirits and convince one another that Percy would be fine.
The spring had been especially hard. By then, Annabeth had reason to hope Percy was alive, since Hera’s plan seemed to involve sending him to the Roman side, but she couldn’t be sure where he was. Jason had remembered his old camp’s location more or less, but all the Greeks’ magic—even that of the campers of Hecate’s cabin— couldn’t confirm that Percy was there, or anywhere. He seemed to have disappeared from the planet. Rachel the Oracle had tried to read the future, and while she couldn’t see much, she’d been certain that Leo needed to finish the
Nevertheless, Annabeth had spent every spare moment scouring all sources for any rumors of Percy. She had talked to nature spirits, read legends about Rome, dug for clues on Daedalus’s notebook, and spent hundreds of golden drachmas on Iris-messages to every friendly spirit, demigod, or monster she’d ever met, all with no luck.
That particular afternoon, coming back from Sally’s, Annabeth had felt even more drained than usual. She and Sally had first cried and then attempted to pull themselves together, but their nerves were frayed. Finally Annabeth took the Lexington Avenue subway down to Grand Central.
There were other ways to get back to her high school dorm from the Upper East Side, but Annabeth liked going through Grand Central Terminal. The beautiful design and the vast open space reminded her of Mount Olympus. Grand buildings made her feel better—maybe because being in a place so permanent made
She had just passed Sweet on America, the candy shop where Percy’s mom used to work, and was thinking about going inside to buy some blue candy for old times’ sake, when she saw Athena studying the subway map on the wall.
“Mother!” Annabeth couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t seen her mom in months—not since Zeus had closed the gates of Olympus and forbidden all communication with demigods.
Many times, Annabeth had tried to call on her mom anyway, pleading for guidance, sending up burnt offerings with every meal at camp. She’d had no response. Now here was Athena, dressed in jeans and hiking boots and a red flannel shirt, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She held a backpack and a walking stick like she was prepared for a long journey.
“I must return home,” Athena murmured, studying the map. “The way is complex. I wish Odysseus were here. He would understand.”
“Mom!” Annabeth said. “Athena!”
The goddess turned. She seemed to look right through Annabeth with no recognition.
“That was my name,” the goddess said dreamily. “Before they sacked my city, took my identity, made me
Annabeth stepped back in shock. “You’re…you’re Minerva?”
“Don’t call me that!” The goddess’s gray eyes flared with anger. “I used to carry a spear and a shield. I held victory in the palm of my hand. I was so much more than this.”
“Mom.” Annabeth’s voice trembled. “It’s me, Annabeth. Your
“My daughter…” Athena repeated. “Yes, my children will avenge me. They must destroy the Romans. Horrible, dishonorable, copycat Romans. Hera argued that we must keep the two camps apart. I said, No, let them fight. Let my children destroy the usurpers.”
Annabeth’s heartbeat thumped in her ears. “You
“Once!” the goddess said. “Replaced. Sacked. Looted like a trophy and carted off—away from my beloved homeland. I lost so much. I swore I would never forgive. Neither would my children.” She focused more closely on Annabeth. “You are my daughter?”
“Yes.”
The goddess fished something from the pocket of her shirt—an old-fashioned subway token—and pressed it into Annabeth’s hand.
“Follow the Mark of Athena,” the goddess said. “Avenge me.”
Annabeth had looked at the coin. As she watched, it changed from a New York subway token to an ancient silver drachma, the kind used by Athenians. It showed an owl, Athena’s sacred animal, with an olive branch on one side and a Greek inscription on the other.
At the time, Annabeth had had no idea what it meant. She didn’t understand why her mom was acting like this. Minerva or not, she shouldn’t be so confused.
“Mom…” She tried to make her tone as reasonable as possible. “Percy is missing. I need your help.” She had started to explain Hera’s plan for bringing the camps together to battle Gaea and the giants, but the goddess stamped her walking stick against the marble floor.
“Never!” she said. “Anyone who helps Rome must perish. If you would join them, you are no child of mine. You have already failed me.”
