“I know,” she murmured. “Gods of Olympus, Percy, I know.”
Annabeth was almost glad for the job of keeping the Doors closed. The terror racing through her heart at least kept her from dissolving into misery. Abandoning Damasen and Bob had been the hardest thing she’d ever done.
For years at Camp Half-Blood, she had chafed as other campers went on quests while she stayed behind. She’d watched as others gained glory…or failed and didn’t come back. Since she was seven years old, she had thought: Why don’t I get to prove my skills? Why can’t I lead a quest?
Now she realized that the hardest test for a child of Athena wasn’t leading a quest or facing death in combat. It was making the strategic decision to step back, to let someone else take the brunt of the danger—especially when that person was your friend. She had to face the fact that she couldn’t protect everyone she loved. She couldn’t solve every problem.
She hated it, but she didn’t have time for self-pity. She blinked away her tears.
“Percy, the Doors,” she warned.
The panels had started to slide apart, letting in a whiff of…ozone? Sulfur?
Percy pushed on his side furiously and the crack closed. His eyes blazed with anger. She hoped he wasn’t mad at her, but if he was, she couldn’t blame him.
If it keeps him going, she thought, then let him be angry.
“I will kill Gaea,” he muttered. “I will tear her apart with my bare hands.”
Annabeth nodded, but she was thinking about Tartarus’s boast. He could not be killed. Neither could Gaea. Against such power, even Titans and giants were hopelessly outmatched. Demigods stood no chance.
She also remembered Bob’s warning: This may not be the last sacrifice you must make to stop Gaea.
She felt that truth deep in her bones.
“Twelve minutes,” she murmured. “Just twelve minutes.”
She prayed to Athena that Bob could hold the UP button that long. She prayed for strength and wisdom. She wondered what they would find once they reached the top of this elevator ride.
If their friends weren’t there, controlling the other side…
“We can do this,” Percy said. “We have to.”
“Yeah,” Annabeth said. “Yeah, we do.”
They held the Doors shut as the elevator shuddered and the music played, while somewhere below them, a Titan and a giant sacrificed their lives for their escape.
HAZEL WASN’T PROUD OF CRYING.
After the tunnel collapsed, she wept and screamed like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum. She couldn’t move the debris that separated her and Leo from the others. If the earth shifted any more, the entire complex might collapse on their heads. Still, she pounded her fists against the stones and yelled curses that would’ve earned her a mouth-washing with lye soap back at St. Agnes Academy.
Leo stared at her, wide-eyed and speechless.
She wasn’t being fair to him.
The last time the two of them had been together, she’d zapped him into her past and shown him Sammy, his great-grandfather—Hazel’s first boyfriend. She’d burdened him with emotional baggage he didn’t need, and left him so dazed they had almost gotten killed by a giant shrimp monster.
Now here they were, alone again, while their friends might be dying at the hands of a monster army, and she was throwing a fit.
“Sorry.” She wiped her face.
“Hey, you know…” Leo shrugged. “I’ve attacked a few rocks in my day.”
She swallowed with difficulty. “Frank is…he’s—”
“Listen,” Leo said. “Frank Zhang has moves. He’s probably gonna turn into a kangaroo and do some marsupial jujitsu on their ugly faces.”
He helped her to her feet. Despite the panic simmering inside her, she knew Leo was right. Frank and the others weren’t helpless. They would find a way to survive. The best thing she and Leo could do was carry on.
She studied Leo. His hair had grown out longer and shaggier, and his face was leaner, so he looked less like an imp and more like one of those willowy elves in the fairy tales. The biggest difference was his eyes. They constantly drifted, as if Leo was trying to spot something over the horizon.
“Leo, I’m sorry,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay. For what?”
“For…” She gestured around her helplessly. “Everything. For thinking you were Sammy, for leading you on. I mean, I didn’t mean to, but if I did—”
“Hey.” He squeezed her hand, though Hazel sensed nothing romantic in the gesture. “Machines are designed to work.”
“Uh, what?”
“I figure the universe is basically like a machine. I don’t know who made it, if it was the Fates, or the gods, or capital-G God, or whatever. But it chugs along the way it’s supposed to most of the time. Sure, little pieces break and stuff goes haywire once in a while, but mostly…things happen for a reason. Like you and me meeting.”
“Leo Valdez,” Hazel marveled, “you’re a philosopher.”
“Nah,” he said. “I’m just a mechanic. But I figure my bisabuelo Sammy knew what was what. He let you go, Hazel. My job is to tell you that it’s okay. You and Frank—you’re good together. We’re all going to get through this. I hope you guys get a chance to be happy. Besides, Zhang couldn’t tie his shoes without your help.”
“That’s mean,” Hazel chided, but she felt like something was untangling inside her—a knot of tension she’d been carrying for weeks.