05 The Last Olympian by Riordan Rick

Author:Riordan, Rick [Rick, Riordan,]
Format: epub
Published: 2010-04-10T22:20:53.889000+00:00

"No!" I searched the wreckage on my side of the bridge. I stared down at the river.Nothing.

I yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness. I was about to whistle for Blackjack to help me search, when my mom's phone rang. The LCD display said I had a call from Finklestein & Associatesprobably a demigod calling on a borrowed phone.

I picked up, hoping for good news. Of course I was wrong.

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TWELVE

RACHEL MAKES A

BAD DEAL

I grabbed Will Solace from the Apollo cabin and told the restof his siblings to keep searching for Michael Yew. We borrowed a Yamaha FZI from a sleeping biker and drove to the Plaza Hotel at speeds that would've given my mom a heart attack. I'd never driven a motorcycle before, but it wasn't any harder than riding apegasus .

Along the way, I noticed a lot of empty pedestals that usually held statues. Plan twenty-three seemed to be working. I didn't know if that was good or bad.

It only took us five minutes to reach the Plazaan old-fashioned white stone hotel with a gabled blue roof, sitting at the southeast corner of Central Park.

Tactically speaking, the Plaza wasn't the best place for a headquarters. It wasn't the tallest building in town, or the most centrally located. But it had old-school style and had attracted a lot of famous demigods over the years, like the Beatles and Alfred Hitchcock, so I figured we were in good company.

I gunned the Yamaha over the curb and swerved to a stop at the fountain outside the hotel.

Will and I hopped off. The statue at the top of the fountain called down, "Oh, fine. I suppose you want me to watch your biketoo!"

She was a life-size bronze standing in the middle of a granite bowl. She wore only a bronze sheet around her legs, and she was holding a basket of metal fruit. I'd never paid her too much attention before. Then again, she'd never talked to me before.

"Are you supposed to be Demeter?" I asked.

A bronze apple sailed over my head.

"Everyone thinks I'm Demeter.'" she complained. "I'm Pompona, the Roman Goddess of Plenty, but why shouldyou care? Nobody cares about the minor gods. If you cared about the minor gods, you wouldn't be losing this war! Three cheers for Morpheus and Hecate, I say!"

"Watch the bike," I told her.

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I'd never actually been inside thePlaza. The lobby was impressive, with the crystal chandeliers and the passed-out rich people, but I didn't pay much attention. A couple of Hunters gave us directions to the elevators, and we rode up to the penthouse suites.

Demigods had completely taken over the top floors. Campers and Hunters were crashed out on sofas, washing up in the bathrooms, ripping silk draperies to bandage their wounds, and helping themselves to snacks and sodas from the minibars. A couple of timber wolves were drinking out of the toilets.

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