But as he prepared to strike, George and Martha leaned in close and whispered

something in his ear.

 

Hermes clenched his teeth. He lowered the cattle prod, and it turned back to a

staff.

 

"Percy Jackson," he said, "because you have taken on the curse of Achilles, I

must spare you. You are in the hands of the Fates now. But you will never speak

to me like that again. You have no idea how much I have sacrificed, how much — "

 

His voice broke, and he shra nk back to human size. "My son, my greatest pride .

. . my poor May . . ."

 

He sounded so devastated I didn't know what to say. One minute he was ready to

vaporize us. Now he looked like he needed a hug.

 

"Look, Lord Hermes," I said. "I'm sorry, but I need to know. What happened to

May? She said something about Luke's fate, and her eyes — "

 

Hermes glared at me, and my voice faltered. The look on his face wasn't really

anger, though. It was pain. Deep, incredible pain.

 

"I will leave you now," he said tightly. "I have a war to fight."