BROOKLYN, PERCY, AND Annabeth were on their way out when Percy stopped.

He glanced at them. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

"You sure?" Brooklyn asked, studying his face. "Yeah, you're sure."

He left, then she felt a gust of wind breeze by her, and she remembered her father's first words to her. Come find me later.

"Ugh, Father wanted to see me," she told Annabeth, wrinkling her nose as she fiddled with her ring. "Hopefully it'll be quick."

"Good luck," Annabeth said, and then Brooklyn left in order to find her father.

Turns out, he was the one who found her, wandering around the ruins of the city.

"Brooklyn." Zeus greeted, firm and cold just like how her mother greets her. That's probably how he got attracted to her.

"Father." She continued walking, fidgeting with the ring on her finger.

"The ring I gave you has more abilities than your old one did," he told her.

"Really?" Brooklyn came into this conversation aloof and frustrated that she couldn't leave yet. But now she was intrigued.

"You can control your ability with it," he explained. "You can bind your weapons to it. And it can help you with your . . . fidgeting problem."

She fiddled with the ring, finding that it did have the qualities of a fidget ring. "That's sick," she said. "Thanks . . . uh, Father."

His cloud-covered eyebrows knit. During her time on Olympus, she's looked at Zeus many times and she refuses to believe that she's his daughter. Thalia looked a lot like him — the only thing they shared were the electric blue eyes. Nothing else. Not the black hair. Not the cool composure he had. Not the leadership or the power.

"Sick?" he repeated. "You don't look sick."

"It's a figure of speech," she said. "For, you know, young mortals."

"Ah." He said, and she was really seeing why Thalia was the favorite. "Brooklyn, I'm not exactly the most . . . experienced, with communicating with my children—"

No shit, she thought. This was, like, their third conversation. And the other times barely counted as conversations.

"—but I care for you. You should never doubt that. Even if I don't talk to you."

Brooklyn stayed silent, staring ahead of her. Finally, she nodded. "Okay."

"I must leave you now," her father said solemnly. "But, Brooklyn . . . I'm proud of you."

And he turned and left, leaving her staring at his back.

She, conveniently, got back to Annabeth just after Percy had, hearing snippets of their conversation.

"Why do you smell like smoke?" Annabeth asked him.

"Long story," he said, glancing around. "Where's Brooks?"

"Right here," Brooklyn walked up to them, making Percy jump, and she laughed at him. "Aw, Prince Eric's scared of me! How cute."

"Shut it, Peter Pan," Percy grumbled. Together they made their way down to the street level. The music was awful — Neil Diamond or something.

"Did you see your dad?" Percy asked Brooklyn.

"Yeah," she responded.

"And?"

"The ring's a really good gift," she smiled as she looked at it. "Makes up for sixteen years of no conversation."

And that was that.

When they got into the lobby, they found Mr. and Mrs. Blofis arguing with the bald security guy, who'd returned to his post.

"I'm telling you," Mrs. Blofis yelled, "we have to go up! My son—" Then she saw Percy and her eyes widened. "Percy!"

She hugged him, tightly, and Brooklyn and Annabeth exchanged glances, stifling laughs.

"We saw the building lit up blue," Mrs. Blofis said. "But then you didn't come down. You went up hours ago!"

"She was getting a bit anxious," Mr. Blofis said drily.

"I'm all right," Percy promised as Mrs. Blofis hugged Brooklyn and Annabeth. "Everything's okay now."

"Mr. Blofis," Brooklyn grinned, "That was wicked sword work."

Mr. Blofis shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do. But Percy, is this really . . . I mean, this story about the six hundredth floor?"

"Olympus," Percy said. "Yeah."

Mr. Blofis looked at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. "I'd like to see that."

"Paul," Mrs. Blofis chided. "It's not for mortals. Anyway, the important thing is we're safe. All of us."

Then, naturally, Nico ran in from the street, and his face told them something was wrong.

"It's Rachel," he said. "I just ran into her down on 32nd Street."

Annabeth frowned. "What's she done this time?"

"It's where she's gone," Nico said. "I told her she would die if she tried, but she insisted. She just took Blackjack and—"

"She took my pegasus?" Percy demanded.

Nico nodded. "She's heading to Half-Blood Hill. She said she had to get to camp."

* * *

"What was she thinking?" Brooklyn said as they ran for the river.

The traffic was horrible. Everybody was out on the streets gawking at the war zone damage. Police sirens wailed on every block. There was no possibility of catching a cab, and the pegasi had flown away. So they ran, pushing through mobs of dazed mortals that clogged the sidewalks.

"She'll never get through the defenses," Annabeth said. "Peleus will eat her."

"We've got to hurry." Percy glanced at Nico. "I don't suppose you could conjure up some skeleton horses."

Nico wheezed as he ran. "So tired . . . couldn't summon a dog bone."

"And if I called a car, it would take too long." Brooklyn swore under her breath. "I wish I could fly."

Finally they scrambled over the embankment to the shore, and Percy let out a loud whistle.

Four wake lines appeared in the gray water, and a pod of hippocampi broke the surface. They whinnied unhappily, shaking the river muck from their manes. They were beautiful creatures, with multicolored fish tails, and the heads and forelegs of white stallions.

"Rainbow!" Percy called. "How's it going, buddy?"

Rainbow neighed a complaint.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Percy apologized. "But it's an emergency. We need to get to camp."

Rainbow snorted.

"Tyson?" Percy said. "Tyson is fine! I'm sorry he's not here. He's a big general now in the Cyclops army."

"NEEEEIGGGGH!"

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll still bring you apples. Now, about that ride . . ."

In no time, Percy, Annabeth, Nico, and Brooklyn were zipping up the East River faster than Jet Skis. They sped under the Throgs Neck Bridge and headed for Long Island Sound.

It seemed like forever until they saw the beach at camp. They thanked the hippocampi and waded ashore, only to find Argus waiting for them. He stood in the sand with his arms crossed, his hundred eyes glaring at them.

"Is she here?" Percy asked.

Argus nodded grimly.

"Is everything okay?" Annabeth said.

He shook his head.

They followed him up the trail. It was surreal being back at camp, because everything looked so peaceful: no burning buildings, no wounded fighters. The cabins were bright in the sunshine, and the fields glittered with dew. But the place was mostly empty.

Up at the Big House, something was definitely wrong. Green light was shooting out all the windows. Mist — the magical kind — swirled around the yard. Chiron lay on a horse-size stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing around him. Blackjack cantered nervously in the grass.

Rachel Dare stood at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms were raised like she was waiting for someone inside the house to throw her a ball.

"What's she doing?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get past the barriers?"

"She flew," one of the satyrs said, looking accusingly at Blackjack. "Right past the dragon, right through the magic boundaries."

"Rachel!" Percy called, but the satyrs stopped him when he tried to go any closer.

"Percy, don't," Chiron warned. He winced as he tried to move. His left arm was in a sling, his two back legs were in splints, and his head was wrapped in bandages. "You can't interrupt."

"I thought you explained things to her!"

"I did. And I invited her here."

Percy stared at Chiron in disbelief. "You said you'd never let anyone try again! You said—"

"I know what I said, Percy. But I was wrong. Rachel had a vision about the curse of Hades. She believes it may be lifted now. She convinced me she deserves a chance."

"And if the curse isn't lifted? If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!"

The Mist swirled around Rachel. She shivered like she was going into shock.

"Hey!" Percy shouted. "Stop!"

He ran toward her, ignoring the satyrs. He got within ten feet and hit something like an invisible beach ball. He bounced back and landed in the grass.

Rachel opened her eyes and turned. She looked like she was sleepwalking — like she could see them, but only in a dream.

"It's all right." Her voice sounded far away. "This is why I've come."

"You'll be destroyed!"

She shook her head. "This is where I belong, Percy. I finally understand why."

The house rumbled. The door flew open and green light poured out. Brooklyn recognized the warm musty smell of snakes.

Mist curled into a hundred smoky serpents, slithering up the porch columns, curling around the house. Then the Oracle appeared in the doorway.

The withered mummy shuffled forward in a rainbow dress. Her hair was falling out in clumps. Her leathery skin was cracking like the seat of a worn-out bus. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into space, but Brooklyn got the creepiest feeling she was being drawn straight toward Rachel.

Rachel held out her arms. She didn't look scared.

"You've waited too long," Rachel said. "But I'm here now."

The sun blazed more brightly. A man appeared above the porch, floating in the air — a blond dude in a white toga, with sunglasses and a cocky smile.

"Apollo," Percy realized.

He winked at Percy but held up his finger to his lips.

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he said. "You have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are you sure you want this?"

Rachel nodded. "It's my destiny."

"Do you accept the risks?"

"I do."

"Then proceed," the god said.

Rachel closed her eyes. "I accept this role. I pledge myself to Apollo, God of Oracles. I open my eyes to the future and embrace the past. I accept the spirit of Delphi, Voice of the Gods, Speaker of Riddles, Seer of Fate."

Brooklyn didn't know where Rachel was getting the words, but they flowed out of her as the Mist thickened. A green column of smoke, like a huge python, uncoiled from the mummy's mouth and slithered down the stairs, curling affectionately around Rachel's feet. The Oracle's mummy crumbled, falling away until it was nothing but a pile of dust in an old tie-dyed dress. Mist enveloped Rachel in a column.

For a moment Brooklyn couldn't see her at all. Then the smoke cleared.

Rachel collapsed and curled into the fetal position. Annabeth, Percy, Nico, and Brooklyn rushed forward, but Apollo said, "Stop! This is the most delicate part."

"What's going on?" Brooklyn demanded. "What do you mean?"

Apollo studied Rachel with concern. "Either the spirit takes hold, or it doesn't."

"And if it doesn't?" Annabeth asked.

"Five syllables," Apollo said, counting them on his fingers. "That would be real bad."

"That's six," Brooklyn muttered under her breath.

Despite Apollo's warning, Percy ran forward and knelt over Rachel. The smell of the attic was gone. The Mist sank into the ground and the green light faded. But Rachel was still pale. She was barely breathing.

Then her eyes fluttered open. She focused on him with difficulty. "Percy."

"Are you okay?"

She tried to sit up. "Ow." She pressed her hands to her temples.

"Rachel," Nico said, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could see you dying."

"I'm all right," she murmured. "Please, help me up. The visions — they're a little disorienting."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy asked.

Apollo drifted down from the porch. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Oracle of Delphi."

"You're kidding," Brooklyn said.

Rachel managed a weak smile. "It's a little surprising to me too, but this is my fate. I saw it when I was in New York. I know why I was born with true sight. I was meant to become the Oracle."

Percy blinked. "You mean you can tell the future now?"

"Not all the time," she said. "But there are visions, images, words in my mind. When someone asks me a question, I . . . oh no—"

"It's starting," Apollo announced.

Rachel doubled over like someone had punched her. Then she stood up straight and her eyes glowed serpent green.

When she spoke, her voice sounded tripled — like three Rachels were talking at once:

"Eight half-bloods shall answer the call.

To storm or fire, the world must fall.

An oath to keep with a final breath,

And foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

At the last word, Rachel collapsed. Nico and Percy caught her and helped her to the porch. Her skin was feverish.

"I'm all right," she said, her voice returning to normal.

"What was that?" Percy asked.

She shook her head, confused. "What was what?"

"I believe," Apollo said, "that we just heard the next Great Prophecy."

"What does it mean?" Percy demanded.

Rachel frowned. "I don't even remember what I said."

"No," Apollo mused. "The spirit will only speak through you occasionally. The rest of the time, our Rachel will be much as she's always been. There's no point in grilling her, even if she has just issued the next big prediction for the future of the world."

"What?" Percy burst out in outrage. "But—"

"Percy," Apollo said, "I wouldn't worry too much. The last Great Prophecy about you took almost seventy years to complete. This one may not even happen in your lifetime."

Brooklyn snorted. Yeah, right.

"Maybe," Percy said, "but it didn't sound so good."

"No," said Apollo cheerfully. "It certainly didn't. She's going to make a wonderful Oracle!"

It was hard to drop the subject, but Apollo insisted that Rachel needed to rest, and she did look pretty disoriented.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said. "Back on Olympus, I didn't explain everything to you, but the calling frightened me. I didn't think you'd understand."

"I still don't," he admitted. "But I guess I'm happy for you."

Rachel smiled. "Happy probably isn't the right word. Seeing the future isn't going to be easy, but it's my destiny. I only hope my family . . ."

She didn't finish her thought.

"Will you still go to Clarion Academy?" Percy asked.

"I made a promise to my father. I guess I'll try to be a normal kid during the school year, but—"

"But right now you need sleep," Apollo scolded. "Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for our new Oracle, do you?"

"No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him. "Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought."

"I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the entrance . . . really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those home theater systems."

Chiron cleared his throat loudly.

"What?" Apollo demanded.

Rachel kissed Percy on the cheek and whispered something to him which made him blush. Then she turned and followed Apollo into the Big House.