𐌙/𐌍 Ᏽ𐌵𐌀𐌋𐌄 & 𐌕𐋅𐌄 Ᏽ𐌐𐌄𐌀𐌕 𐌌𐌙𐌕𐋅𐌔 ¹

Chapter 21

Twenty-one
ꕤ

Blackjack Gets Jacked

Annabeth and I were on our way out when I spotted Hermes in a side courtyard of the palace. He was staring at an Iris-message in the mist of a fountain.

  I glanced at Annabeth. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

  "You sure?" Then she studied my face. "Yeah, you're sure."

  Hermes didn't seem to notice me approach. The Iris-message images were going so fast I could hardly understand them. Mortal newscasts from all over the country flashed by: scenes of Typhon's destruction, the wreckage our battle had left across Manhattan, the president doing a news conference, the mayor of New York, some army vehicles riding down the Avenue of the Americas.

  "Amazing," Hermes murmured. He turned toward me. "Three thousand years, and I will never get over the power of the Mist ... and mortal ignorance."

  "Thanks, I guess."

  "Oh, not you. Although, I suppose I should wonder, turning down immortality."

  "It was the right choice."

  Hermes looked at me curiously, then returned his attention to the Iris-message. "Look at them. They've already decided Typhon was a freak series of storms. Don't I wish. They haven't figured out how all the statues in Lower Manhattan got removed from their pedestals and hacked to pieces. They keep showing a shot of Susan B. Anthony strangling Frederick Douglass. But I imagine they'll even come up with a logical explanation for that."

  "How bad is the city?"

  Hermes shrugged. "Surprisingly, not too bad. The mortals are shaken, of course. But this is New York. I've never seen such a resilient bunch of humans. I imagine they'll be back to normal in a few weeks; and of course I'll be helping."

  "You?"

  "I'm the messenger of the gods. It's my job to monitor what the mortals are saying, and if necessary, help them make sense of what's happened. I'll reassure them. Trust me, they'll put this down to a freak earthquake or a solar flare. Anything but the truth."

  He sounded bitter. George and Martha curled around his caduceus, but they were silent, which made me think that Hermes was really really angry. I probably should've kept quiet, but I said, "I owe you an apology."

  Hermes gave me a cautious look. "And why is that?"

  "I thought you were a bad father," I admitted. "I thought you abandoned Luke because you knew his future and didn't do anything to stop it."

  "I did know his future," Hermes said miserably.

  "But you knew more than just the bad stuff—that he'd turn evil. You understood what he would do in the end. You knew he'd make the right choice. But you couldn't tell him, could you?"

  Hermes stared at the fountain. "No one can tamper with fate, (y/n), not even a god. If I had warned him what was to come, or tried to influence his choices, I would've made things even worse. Staying silent, staying away from him ... that was the hardest thing I've ever done."

  "You had to let him find his own path," I said, "and play his part in saving Olympus."

  Hermes sighed. "I should not have gotten mad at Annabeth. When Luke visited her in San Francisco ... well, I knew she would have a part to play in his fate. I foresaw that much. I thought perhaps she could do what I could not and save him. When she refused to go with him, I could barely contain my rage. I should have known better. I was really angry with myself."