Grover and I exchanged glances.

 

"Annabeth," I said. "I'm sorry — "

 

"You tried to tell me." Her voice was shaky. "Luke is no good. I didn't believe

you until . . . until I heard how he'd used Silena. Now I know. I hope you're

happy."

 

"That doesn't make me happy."

 

She put her head against the elevator wall and wouldn't look at me.

 

Grover cradled his laurel sapling in his hands. "Well . . . sure good to be

together again. Arguing.

 

Almost dying. Abject terror. Oh, look. It's our floor."

 

The doors dinged and we stepped onto the aerial walkway.

 

Depressing is not a word that usually describes Mount Olympus, but it looked

that way now. No fires lit the braziers. The windows were dark. The streets were

deserted and the doors were barred. The only movement was in the parks, which

had been set up as field hospitals. Will Solace and the other Apollo campers

scrambled around, caring for the wounded. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using

nature magic songs to heal burns and poison.