"Quiet, both of you," Hermes grumbled.

 

The god looked at Annabeth, who was doing her big-pleading-gray-eyes thing.

 

"Bah," Hermes said. "Your mother said to warn you that you are on your own. You

must hold Manhattan without the help of the gods. As if I didn't know that. Why

they pay her to be the wisdom goddess, I'm not sure."

 

"Anything else?" Annabeth asked.

 

"She said you should try plan twenty-three. She said you would know what that

meant."

 

Annabeth's face paled. Obviously she knew what it meant, and she didn't like it.

"Go on."

 

"Last thing." Hermes looked at me. "She said to tell Percy: 'Remember the

rivers.' And, um, something about staying away from her daughter."

 

I'm not sure whose face was redder: Annabeth's or mine.

 

"Thank you, Hermes," Annabeth said. "And I ... I wanted to say . . . I'm sorry

about Luke."