“I said I only talked to Boreas. It wasn’t so amazing.”
She didn’t turn to look, but she imagined him smiling.
“Hey,” he said, “you saved me from joining Khione’s subzero hero collection. I owe you one.”
That was definitely the easy part, she thought. There was no way Piper would’ve let that ice witch keep Jason. What bothered Piper more was the way Boreas had changed form, and why he’d let them go. It had something to do with Jason’s past, those tattoos on his arm. Boreas assumed Jason was some sort of Roman, and Romans didn’t mix with Greeks. She kept waiting for Jason to offer an explanation, but he clearly didn’t want to talk about it.
Until now, Piper had been able to dismiss Jason’s feeling that he didn’t belong at Camp Half-Blood. Obviously he was a demigod. Of course he belonged. But now … what if he was something else? What if he really was an enemy? She couldn’t stand that idea any more than she could stand Khione.
Leo passed them some sandwiches from his pack. He’d been quiet ever since they’d told him what happened in the throne room. “I still can’t believe Khione,” he said. “She looked so nice.”
“Trust me, man,” Jason said. “Snow may be pretty, but up close it’s cold and nasty. We’ll find you a better prom date.”
Piper smiled, but Leo didn’t look pleased. He hadn’t said much about his time in the palace, or why the Boreads had singled him out for smelling like fire. Piper got the feeling he was hiding something. Whatever it was, his mood seemed to be affecting Festus, who grumbled and steamed as he tried to keep himself warm in the cold Canadian air. Happy the Dragon was not so happy.
They ate their sandwiches as they flew. Piper had no idea how Leo had stocked up on supplies, but he’d even remembered to bring veggie rations for her. The cheese and avocado sandwich was awesome.
Nobody talked. Whatever they might find in Chicago, they all knew Boreas had only let them go because he figured they were already on a suicide mission.
The moon rose and stars turned overhead. Piper’s eyes started to feel heavy. The encounter with Boreas and his children had scared her more than she wanted to admit. Now that she had a full stomach, her adrenaline was fading.
Piper had been thinking about the coach ever since Boreas mentioned he was still alive. She’d never liked Hedge, but he’d leaped off a cliff to save Leo, and he’d sacrificed himself to protect them on the skywalk. She now realized that all the times at school the coach had pushed her, yelled at her to run faster or do more push-ups, or even when he’d turned his back and let her fight her own battles with the mean girls, the old goat man had been trying to help her in his own irritating way—trying to prepare her for life as a demigod.
On the skywalk, Dylan the storm spirit had said something about the coach, too: how he’d been retired to Wilderness School because he was getting too old, like it was some sort of punishment. Piper wondered what that was about, and if it explained why the coach was always so grumpy. Whatever the truth, now that Piper knew Hedge was alive, she had a strong compulsion to save him.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, she chided. You’ve got bigger problems. This trip won’t have a happy ending.
She was a traitor, just like Silena Beauregard. It was only a matter of time before her friends found out.
She looked up at the stars and thought about a night long ago when she and her dad had camped out in front of Grandpa Tom’s house. Grandpa Tom had died years before, but Dad had kept his house in Oklahoma because it was where he grew up.
They’d gone back for a few days, with the idea of getting the place fixed up to sell, although Piper wasn’t sure who’d want to buy a run-down cabin with shutters instead of windows and two tiny rooms that smelled like cigars. The first night had been so stifling hot—no air conditioning in the middle of August—that Dad suggested they sleep outside.
They’d spread their sleeping bags and listened to the cicadas buzzing in the trees. Piper pointed out the constellations she’d been reading about—Hercules, Apollo’s lyre, Sagittarius the centaur.
Her dad crossed his arms behind his head. In his old T-shirt and jeans he looked like just another guy from Tahlequah, Oklahoma, a Cherokee who might’ve never left tribal lands. “Your grandpa would say those Greek patterns are a bunch of bull. He told me the stars were creatures with glowing fur, like magic hedgehogs. Once, long ago, some hunters even captured a few in the forest. They didn’t know what they’d done until nighttime, when the star creatures began to glow. Golden sparks flew from their fur, so the Cherokee released them back into the sky.”
“You believe in magic hedgehogs?” Piper asked.
Her dad laughed. “I think Grandpa Tom was full of bull, too, just like the Greeks. But it’s a big sky. I suppose there’s room for Hercules and hedgehogs.”
They sat for a while, until Piper got the nerve to ask a question that had been bugging her. “Dad, why don’t you ever play Native American parts?”
The week before, he’d turned down several million dollars to play Tonto in a remake of
He winked at her. “Too close to home, Pipes. Easier to pretend I’m something I’m not.”
“Doesn’t that get old? Aren’t you ever tempted, like, if you found the perfect part that could change people’s opinions?”
“If there’s a part like that, Pipes,” he said sadly, “I haven’t found it.”
She looked at the stars, trying to imagine them as glowing hedgehogs. All she saw were the stick figures she knew—Hercules running across the sky, on his way to kill monsters. Dad was probably right. The Greeks and the Cherokee were equally crazy. The stars were just balls of fire.
“Dad,” she said, “if you don’t like being close to home, why are we sleeping in Grandpa Tom’s yard?”
His laughter echoed in the quiet Oklahoma night. “I think you know me too well, Pipes.”
“You’re not really going to sell this place, are you?”
“Nope,” he sighed. “I’m probably not.”
Piper blinked, shaking herself out of the memory. She realized she’d been falling asleep on the dragon’s back. How could her dad pretend to be so many things he wasn’t? She was trying to do that now, and it was tearing her apart.
Maybe she could pretend for a little while longer. She could dream of finding a way to save her father without betraying her friends—even if right now a happy ending seemed about as likely as magic hedgehogs.
She leaned back against Jason’s warm chest. He didn’t complain. As soon she closed her eyes, she drifted off to sleep.
In her dream, she was back on the mountaintop. The ghostly purple bonfire cast shadows across the trees. Piper’s eyes stung from smoke, and the ground was so warm, the soles of her boots felt sticky.
A voice from the dark rumbled, “You forget your duty.”
Piper couldn’t see him, but it was definitely her least favorite giant—the one who called himself Enceladus. She looked around for any sign of her father, but the pole where he’d been chained was no longer there.
“Where is he?” she demanded. “What’ve you done with him?”
The giant’s laugh was like lava hissing down a volcano. “His body is safe enough, though I fear the poor man’s mind can’t take much more of my company. For some reason he finds me—disturbing. You must hurry, girl, or I fear there will be little left of him to save.”
“Let him go!” she screamed. “Take me instead. He’s just a mortal!”
“But, my dear,” the giant rumbled, “we must prove our love for our parents. That’s what
Piper began to tremble. So much anger and fear boiled inside her, she could hardly talk. “You’re asking me to betray my friends.”
