Prometheus smiled. "You'll have to ask him."

 

One of the other demigods snickered. "Nice knowing you."

 

Ethan readjusted his sword belt and headed into the warehouse.

 

Except for the hole in the roof, the place was just as 1 remembered. Statues of

terrified people stood frozen in midscream. In the snack bar area, the picnic

tables had been moved aside. Right between the soda dispenser and pretzel warmer

stood a golden throne. Kronos lounged on it, his scythe across his lap.

 

He wore jeans and a T-shirt, and with his brooding expression he looked almost

human — like the younger version of Luke I'd seen in the vision, pleading with

Hermes to tell him his fate. Then Luke saw Ethan, and his face contorted into a

very inhuman smile. His golden eyes glowed.

 

"Well, Nakamura. What did you think of the diplomatic mission?"

 

Ethan hesitated. "I'm sure Lord Prometheus is better suited to speak — "

 

"But I asked you . "

 

Ethan's good eye darted back and forth, noting the guards that stood around

Kronos. "I ... I don't think Jackson will surrender. Ever."