The Hidden Oracle (10 page)

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.

“My problems should not affect you,” I promised. “If Zeus went around retroactively yanking my divine power out of all my descendants, half the medical schools in the country would be empty. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame would disappear. The Tarot-card reading industry would collapse overnight!”

Austin’s shoulders relaxed. “That’s a relief.”

“So if you die while you’re mortal,” Kayla said, “we won’t disappear?”

“Guys,” Will interrupted, “why don’t you run to the Big House and tell Chiron that our…our
patient
is conscious. I’ll bring him along in a minute. And, uh, see if you can disperse the crowd outside, okay? I don’t want everybody rushing Apollo at once.”

Kayla and Austin nodded sagely. As my children, they no doubt understood the importance of controlling the paparazzi.

As soon as they were gone, Will gave me an apologetic smile. “They’re in shock. We all are. It’ll take some time to get used to…whatever this is.”

“You do not seem shocked,” I said.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet.”

It was not easy. I fell twice. My head spun, and my eyes felt as if they were being microwaved in their sockets. Recent dreams continued to churn in my brain like river silt, muddying my thoughts—the woman with the crown and the peace symbol, the man in the purple suit.
Lead me to the Oracle. I’ll enjoy burning it down!

The cabin began to feel stifling. I was anxious to get some fresh air.

One thing my sister Artemis and I agree on: every worthwhile pursuit is better outdoors than indoors. Music is best played under the dome of heaven. Poetry should be shared in the
agora.
Archery is definitely easier outside, as I can attest after that one time I tried target practice in my father’s throne room. And driving the sun…well, that’s not really an indoor sport either.

Leaning on Will for support, I stepped outside. Kayla and Austin had succeeded in shooing the crowd away. The only one waiting for me—oh, joy and happiness—was my young overlord, Meg, who had apparently now gained fame at camp as Crotchkicker McCaffrey.

She still wore Sally Jackson’s hand-me-down green dress, though it was a bit dirtier now. Her leggings were ripped and torn. On her bicep, a line of butterfly bandages closed a nasty cut she must have gotten in the woods.

She took one look at me, scrunched up her face, and stuck out her tongue. “You look
yuck
.”

“And you, Meg,” I said, “are as charming as ever.”

She adjusted her glasses until they were just crooked enough to be annoying. “Thought you were going to die.”

“Glad to disappoint you.”

“Nah.” She shrugged. “You still owe me a year of service. We’re bound, whether you like it or not!”

I sighed. It was ever so wonderful to be back in Meg’s company.

“I suppose I should thank you….” I had a hazy memory of my delirium in the forest, Meg carrying me along, the trees seeming to part before us. “How did you get us out of the woods?”

Her expression turned guarded. “Dunno. Luck.” She jabbed a thumb at Will Solace. “From what he’s been telling me, it’s a good thing we got out before nightfall.”

“Why?”

Will started to answer, then apparently thought better of it. “I should let Chiron explain. Come on.”

I rarely visited Camp Half-Blood in winter. The last time had been three years ago, when a girl named Thalia Grace crash-landed my bus in the canoe lake.

I expected the camp to be sparsely populated. I knew most demigods only came for the summer, leaving a small core of year-rounders during the school term—those who for various reasons found camp the only safe place they could live.

Still, I was struck by how few demigods I saw. If Cabin Seven was any indication, each god’s cabin could hold beds for about twenty campers. That meant a maximum capacity of four hundred demigods—enough for several phalanxes or one really amazing yacht party.

Yet, as we walked across camp, I saw no more than a dozen people. In the fading light of sunset, a lone girl was scaling the climbing wall as lava flowed down either side. At the lake, a crew of three checked the rigging on the trireme.

Some campers had found reasons to be outside just so they could gawk at me. Over by the hearth, one young man sat polishing his shield, watching me in its reflective surface. Another fellow glared at me as he spliced barbed wire outside the Ares cabin. From the awkward way he walked, I assumed he was Sherman Yang of the recently kicked crotch.

In the doorway of the Hermes cabin, two girls giggled and whispered as I passed. Normally this sort of attention wouldn’t have fazed me. My magnetism was understandably irresistible. But now my face burned. Me—the manly paragon of romance—reduced to a gawky, inexperienced boy!

I would have screamed at the heavens for this unfairness, but that would’ve been super-embarrassing.

We made our way through the fallow strawberry fields. Up on Half-Blood Hill, the Golden Fleece glinted in the lowest branch of a tall pine tree. Whiffs of steam rose from the head of Peleus, the guardian dragon coiled around the base of the trunk. Next to the tree, the Athena Parthenos looked angry red in the sunset. Or perhaps she just wasn’t happy to see me. (Athena had never gotten over our little tiff during the Trojan War.)

Halfway down the hillside, I spotted the Oracle’s cave, its entrance shrouded by thick burgundy curtains. The torches on either side stood unlit—usually a sign that my prophetess, Rachel Dare, was not in residence. I wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

Even when she was not channeling prophecies, Rachel was a wise young lady. I had hoped to consult her about my problems. On the other hand, since her prophetic power had apparently stopped working (which I suppose in some
small
part was my fault), I wasn’t sure Rachel would want to see me. She would expect explanations from her Main Man, and while I had invented
mansplaining
and was its foremost practitioner, I had no answers to give her.

The dream of the flaming bus stayed with me: the groovy crowned woman urging me to find the gates, the ugly mauve-suited man threatening to burn the Oracle.

Well…the cave was right there. I wasn’t sure why the woman in the crown was having such trouble finding it, or why the ugly man would be so intent on burning its “gates,” which amounted to nothing more than purple curtains.

Unless the dream was referring to something other than the Oracle of Delphi….

I rubbed my throbbing temples. I kept reaching for memories that weren’t there, trying to plunge into my vast lake of knowledge only to find it had been reduced to a kiddie pool. You simply can’t do much with a kiddie pool brain.

On the porch of the Big House, a dark-haired young man was waiting for us. He wore faded black trousers, a Ramones T-shirt (bonus points for musical taste), and a black leather bomber jacket. At his side hung a Stygian iron sword.

“I remember you,” I said. “Is it Nicholas, son of Hades?”

“Nico di Angelo.” He studied me, his eyes sharp and colorless, like broken glass. “So it’s true. You’re completely mortal. There’s an aura of death around you—a thick possibility of death.”

Meg snorted. “Sounds like a weather forecast.”

I did not find this amusing. Being face-to-face with a son of Hades, I recalled the many mortals I had sent to the Underworld with my plague arrows. It had always seemed like good clean fun—meting out richly deserved punishments for wicked deeds. Now, I began to understand the terror in my victims’ eyes. I did not want an aura of death hanging over me. I definitely did not want to stand in judgment before Nico di Angelo’s father.

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

“Hey, I’m just stating the obvious. If this
is
Apollo, and he dies, we’re all in trouble.”

Will turned to me. “I apologize for my boyfriend.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Could you not—”

“Would you prefer
special guy
?” Will asked. “Or
significant other
?”

“Significant
annoyance
, in your case,” Nico grumbled.

“Oh, I’ll get you for that.”

Meg wiped her dripping nose. “You guys fight a lot. I thought we were going to see a centaur.”

“And here I am.” The screen door opened. Chiron trotted out, ducking his head to avoid the doorframe.

From the waist up, he looked every bit the professor he often pretended to be in the mortal world. His brown wool jacket had patches on the elbows. His plaid dress shirt did not quite match his green tie. His beard was neatly trimmed, but his hair would have failed the tidiness inspection required for a proper rat’s nest.

From the waist down, he was a white stallion.

My old friend smiled, though his eyes were stormy and distracted. “Apollo, it’s good you are here. We need to talk about the disappearances.”

Check your spam folder

The prophecies might be there

No? Well, I’m stumped. Bye

MEG GAWKED.
“He—he really
is
a centaur.”

“Well spotted,” I said. “I suppose the lower body of a horse is what gave him away?”

She punched me in the arm.

“Chiron,” I said, “this is Meg McCaffrey, my new master and wellspring of aggravation. You were saying something about disappearances?”

Chiron’s tail flicked. His hooves clopped on the planks of the porch.

He was immortal, yet his visible age seemed to vary from century to century. I did not remember his whiskers ever being so gray, or the lines around his eyes so pronounced. Whatever was happening at camp must not have been helping his stress levels.

“Welcome, Meg.” Chiron tried for a friendly tone, which I thought quite heroic, seeing as…well,
Meg.
“I understand you showed great bravery in the woods. You brought Apollo here despite many dangers. I’m glad to have you at Camp Half-Blood.”

“Thanks,” said Meg. “You’re really tall. Don’t you hit your head on light fixtures?”

Chiron chuckled. “Sometimes. If I want to be closer to human size, I have a magical wheelchair that allows me to compact my lower half into…Actually, that’s not important now.”

“Disappearances,” I prompted. “What has disappeared?”

“Not
what
, but
who
,” Chiron said. “Let’s talk inside. Will, Nico, could you please tell the other campers we’ll gather for dinner in one hour? I’ll give everyone an update then. In the meantime, no one should roam the camp alone. Use the buddy system.”

“Understood.” Will looked at Nico. “Will you be my buddy?”

“You are a dork,” Nico announced.

The two of them strolled off bickering.

At this point, you may be wondering how I felt seeing my son with Nico di Angelo. I’ll admit I did not understand Will’s attraction to a child of Hades, but if the dark foreboding type was what made Will happy…

Oh. Perhaps some of you are wondering how I felt seeing him with a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend. If that’s the case,
please.
We gods are not hung up about such things. I myself have had…let’s see, thirty-three mortal girlfriends and eleven mortal boyfriends? I’ve lost count. My two greatest loves were, of course, Daphne and Hyacinthus, but when you’re a god as popular as I am—

Hold on. Did I just tell you who I liked? I did, didn’t I? Gods of Olympus, forget I mentioned their names! I am so embarrassed. Please don’t say anything. In this mortal life, I’ve never been in love with
anyone
!

I am so confused.

Chiron led us into the living room, where comfy leather couches made a V facing the stone fireplace. Above the mantel, a stuffed leopard head was snoring contentedly.

“Is it alive?” Meg asked.

“Quite.” Chiron trotted over to his wheelchair. “That’s Seymour. If we speak quietly, we should be able to avoid waking him.”

Meg immediately began exploring the living room. Knowing her, she was searching for small objects to throw at the leopard to wake him up.

Chiron settled into his wheelchair. He placed his rear legs into the false compartment of the seat, then backed up, magically compacting his equine hindquarters until he looked like a man sitting down. To complete the illusion, hinged front panels swung closed, giving him fake human legs. Normally those legs were fitted with slacks and loafers to augment his “professor” disguise, but today it seemed Chiron was going for a different look.

“That’s new,” I said.

Chiron glanced down at his shapely female mannequin legs, dressed in fishnet stockings and red sequined high heels. He sighed heavily. “I see the Hermes cabin have been watching
Rocky Horror Picture Show
again. I will have to have a chat with them.”

Rocky Horror Picture Show
brought back fond memories. I used to cosplay as Rocky at the midnight showings, because, naturally, the character’s perfect physique was based on my own.