NEVER BE THE SAME . . . percy jackson

one hundred and fifteen: the arguing gods.

NOTHING WAS LEFT of the giants except heaps of ash, a few spears and some burning dreadlocks.

The Argo II was still aloft, barely, moored to the top of the Parthenon. Half the ship's oars were broken off or tangled. Smoke streamed from several large splits in the hull. The sails were peppered with burning holes.

Leo looked almost as bad. He stood in the midst of the temple with the other crewmembers, his face covered in soot, his clothes smoldering.

Percy made eye contact with Brooklyn as she came in, brightened, but it faded when he saw her expression. "What's up?" he asked.

She shook her head as she heard the footsteps of her father approaching. The gods fanned out in a semicircle. None of them seemed particularly joyful about their victory.

Apollo and Artemis stood together in the shadow of a column, as if trying to hide. Hera and Poseidon were having an intense discussion with Demeter. Nike tried to put a golden laurel wreath on Hecate's head, but the goddess of magic swatted it away. Hermes sneaked close to Athena, attempting to put his arm around her. Athena turned her aegis shield his way and Hermes scuffled off.

The only Olympian who seemed in a good mood was Ares. He laughed and pantomimed gutting an enemy while Frank listened, his expression polite but queasy.

"Brethren," Zeus said, "we are healed, thanks to the work of these demigods." Brooklyn scrunched up her nose, but at least he was giving credit where it was fucking due. "The Athena Parthenos, which once stood in this temple, now stands at Camp Half-Blood. It has united our offspring, and thus our own essences."

"Lord Zeus," Piper spoke up, "is Reyna okay? Nico and Coach Hedge?"

Zeus knitted his cloud-colored eyebrows. "They succeeded in their mission. As of this moment they are alive. Whether or not they are okay—"

"There is still work to be done," interrupted Hera. She spread her arms like she wanted a group hug. "But my heroes . . . you have triumphed over the giants as I knew you would. My plan succeeded beautifully."

Zeus turned on his wife. Thunder shook the Acropolis. "Hera, do not dare take credit! You have caused at least as many problems as you've fixed!"

The queen of fucking shit blanched. "Husband, surely you see now — this was the only way."

"There is never only one way!" Zeus bellowed. "That is why there are three Fates, not one. Is this not so?"

By the ruins of the giant king's throne, the three old ladies silently bowed their heads in recognition. Brooklyn noticed that the other gods stayed well away from the Fates and their gleaming brass clubs.

"Please, husband." Hera tried for a smile, but she was so clearly frightened that Brooklyn almost felt sorry for her — but then she remembered the shit Hera's done to her, and she threw those feelings in the dump. "I only did what I—"

"Silence!" Zeus snapped. "You disobeyed my orders. Nevertheless . . . I recognize that you acted with honest intentions. The valor of these eight heroes has proven that you were not entirely without wisdom."

Hera looked like she wanted to argue, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Apollo, however . . ." Zeus glared into the shadows where the twins were standing. "My son, come here."

Apollo inched forward like he was walking the plank. He looked so much like a teenage demigod it was unnerving — no more than seventeen, wearing jeans and a Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, with a bow over his shoulder and a sword at his belt. With his tousled blond hair and blue eyes, he might've been Brooklyn's brother on the mortal side as well as the godly side.