Percy Jackson and the Olympians: the lightning thief

"Sure," I decided. "Why not?"

 

We walked down to the woods and kicked around for some kind of monster to fight, but it was too hot. All the monsters with any sense must've been taking siestas in their nice cool caves. We found a shady spot by the creek where I'd broken Clarisse's spear during my first capture the flag game. We sat on a big rock, drank our Cokes, and watched the sunlight in the woods. After a while Luke said, "You miss being on a quest?"

 

"With monsters attacking me every three feet? Are you kidding?" Luke raised an eyebrow.

 

"Yeah, I miss it," I admitted. "You?"

 

A shadow passed over his face.

 

I was used to hearing from the girls how good-looking Luke was, but at the moment, he looked weary, and angry, and not at all handsome. His blond hair was gray in the sunlight. The scar on his face looked deeper than usual. I could imagine him as an old man.

 

"I've lived at HalfBlood Hill year-round since I was fourteen," he told me. "Ever since Thalia ... well, you know. I trained, and trained, and trained. I never got to be a normal teenager, out there in the real world. Then they threw me one quest, and when I came back, it was like,

 

'Okay, ride's over. Have a nice life.'"

 

He crumpled his Coke can and threw into the creek, which really shocked me. One of the first things you learn at Camp HalfBlood is: Don't litter. You'll hear from the nymphs and the naiads. They'll get even. You'll crawl into bed one night and find your sheets filled with centipedes and mud.

 

"The heck with laurel wreaths," Luke said. "I'm not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House attic."

 

"You make it sound like you're leaving."

 

Luke gave me a twisted smile. "Oh, I'm leaving, all right, Percy. I brought you down here to say good-bye."

 

He snapped his fingers. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at my feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of my hand. A scorpion.

 

I started to go for my pen.

 

"I wouldn't," Luke cautioned. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

 

"Luke, what—"

 

Then it hit me.

 

You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend.

 

"You," I said.

 

He stood calmly and brushed off his jeans.

 

The scorpion paid him no attention. It kept its beady black eyes on me, clamping its pincers as it crawled onto my shoe.

 

"I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy," Luke said. "Didn't you feel it—the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics—being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

 

I couldn't believe this was happening.

 

"Luke ... you're talking about our parents," I said.

 

He laughed. "That's supposed to make me love them? Their precious 'Western civilization is a disease, Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something more honest."

 

"You're as crazy as Ares."

 

His eyes flared. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Percy, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long." The scorpion crawled onto my pants leg.

 

There had to be a way out of this. I needed time to think.

 

"Kronos," I said. "That's who you serve."

 

The air got colder.

 

"You should be careful with names," Luke warned.

 

"Kronos got you to steal the master bolt and the helm. He spoke to you in your dreams." Luke's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Percy. You should've listened."

 

"He's brainwashing you, Luke."

 

"You're wrong. He showed me that my talents are being wasted. You know what my quest was two years ago, Percy? My father, Hermes, wanted me to steal a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides and return it to Olympus. After all the training I'd done, that was the best he could think up."

 

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