"As for my brothers," Zeus said, "we are thankful" — he cleared his throat like

the words were hard to get out — "erm, thankful for the aid of Hades."

 

The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but I figure he'd

earned the right. He patted his son Nico on the shoulders, and Nico looked

happier than I'd ever seen him.

 

"And, of course," Zeus continued, though he looked like his pants were

smoldering, "we must . . . um . . . thank Poseidon."

 

"I'm sorry, brother," Poseidon said. "What was that?"

 

"We must thank Poseidon," Zeus growled. "Without whom ... it would've been

difficult — "

 

"Difficult?" Poseidon asked innocently.

 

"Impossible," Zeus said. "Impossible to defeat Typhon."

 

The gods murmured agreement and pounded their weapons in approval.

 

"Which leaves us," Zeus said, "only the matter of thanking our young demigod

heroes, who defended Olympus so well — even if there are a few dents in my

throne."