“Thank you, guys,” Piper said. “I—”
She wanted to tell them how much they meant to her. They’d sacrificed everything, maybe even their quest, to help her. She couldn’t repay them, couldn’t even put her gratitude into words. But her friends’ expressions told her they understood.
Then, right next to Jason, the air began to shimmer. At first Piper thought it was heat off the tarmac, or maybe gas fumes from the helicopter, but she’d seen something like this before in Medea’s fountain. It was an Iris message. An image appeared in the air—a dark-haired girl in silver winter camouflage, holding a bow.
Jason stumbled back in surprise. “Thalia!”
“Thank the gods,” said the Hunter. The scene behind her was hard to make out, but Piper heard yelling, metal clashing on metal, and explosions.
“We’ve found her,” Thalia said. “Where are you?”
“Oakland,” he said. “Where are you?”
“The Wolf House! Oakland is good; you’re not too far. We’re holding off the giant’s minions, but we can’t hold them forever. Get here before sunset, or it’s all over. ”
“Then it’s not too late?” Piper cried. Hope surged through her, but Thalia’s expression quickly dampened it.
“Not yet,” Thalia said. “But Jason—it’s worse than I realized. Porphyrion is rising. Hurry. ”
“But where is the Wolf House?” he pleaded.
“Our last trip,” Thalia said, her image starting to flicker. “The park. Jack London. Remember?”
This made no sense to Piper, but Jason looked like he’d been shot. He tottered, his face pale, and the Iris message disappeared.
“Bro, you all right?” Leo asked. “You know where she is?”
“Yes,” Jason said. “Sonoma Valley. Not far. Not by air. ”
Piper turned to the ranger pilot, who’d been watching all this with an increasingly puzzled expression.
“Ma’am,” Piper said with her best smile. “You don’t mind helping us one more time, do you?”
“I don’t mind,” the pilot agreed.
“We can’t take a mortal into battle,” Jason said. “It’s too dangerous. ” He turned to Leo. “Do you think you could fly this thing?”
“Um …” Leo’s expression didn’t exactly reassure Piper. But then he put his hand on the side of the helicopter, concentrating hard, as if listening to the machine.
“Bell 412HP utility helicopter,” Leo said. “Composite four-blade main rotor, cruising speed twenty-two knots, service ceiling twenty-thousand feet. The tank is near full. Sure, I can fly it. ”
Piper smiled at the ranger again. “You don’t have a problem with an under-aged unlicensed kid borrowing your copter, do you? We’ll return it. ”
“I—” The pilot nearly choked on the words, but she got them out: “I don’t have a problem with that. ”
Leo grinned. “Hop in, kids. Uncle Leo’s gonna take you for a ride. ”
FLY A HELICOPTER? SURE, WHY NOT. Leo had done plenty of crazier things that week.
The sun was going down as they flew north over the Richmond Bridge, and Leo couldn’t believe the day had gone so quickly. Once again, nothing like ADHD and a good fight to the death to make time fly.
Piloting the chopper, he went back and forth between confidence and panic. If he didn’t think about it, he found himself automatically flipping the right switches, checking the altimeter, easing back on the stick, and flying straight. If he allowed himself to consider what he was doing, he started freaking out. He imagined his Aunt Rosa yelling at him in Spanish, telling him he was a delinquent lunatic who was going to crash and burn. Part of him suspected she was right.
“Going okay?” Piper asked from the copilot’s seat. She sounded more nervous than he was, so Leo put on a brave face.
“Aces,” he said. “So what’s the Wolf House?”
Jason knelt between their seats. “An abandoned mansion in the Sonoma Valley. A demigod built it—Jack London. ”
Leo couldn’t place the name. “He an actor?”
“Writer,” Piper said. “Adventure stuff, right? Call of the Wild? White Fang?”
“Yeah,” Jason said. “He was a son of Mercury—I mean, Hermes. He was an adventurer, traveled the world. He was even a hobo for a while. Then he made a fortune writing. He bought a big ranch in the country and decided to build this huge mansion—the Wolf House. ”
“Named that ’cause he wrote about wolves?” Leo guessed.
“Partially,” Jason said. “But the site, and the reason he wrote about wolves—he was dropping hints about his personal experience. There’re a lot of holes in his life story—how he was born, who his dad was, why he wandered around so much—stuff you can only explain if you know he was a demigod. ”