the seven wonders of the ancient world. Made by the same dude who did the Athena Parthenos.’
‘Please tell me we don’t have to find it,’ Percy said. ‘I’ve had enough huge magic statues for one trip.’
‘Agreed.’ Hazel patted Arion’s flank, as the stallion was acting skittish.
Leo felt like whinnying and stomping his hooves, too. He was hot and agitated and hungry. He felt like they’d prodded the poisonous snake about as much as they could and the snake was about strike back. He wanted to call it a day and return to the ship before that happened.
Unfortunately, when Frank mentioned Temple of Zeus and statue, Leo’s brain had made a connection. Against his better judgement, he shared it.
‘Hey, Percy,’ he said, ‘remember that statue of Nike in the museum? The one that was all in pieces?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Didn’t it used to stand here, at the Temple of Zeus? Feel free to tell me I’m wrong. I’d love to be wrong.’
Percy’s hand went to his pocket. He slipped out his pen, Riptide. ‘You’re right. So if Nike was anywhere … this would be a good spot.’
Frank scanned their surroundings. ‘I don’t see anything.’
‘What if we promoted, like, Adidas shoes?’ Percy wondered. ‘Would that make Nike mad enough to show up?’
Leo smiled nervously. Maybe he and Percy did share something else – a stupid sense of humour. ‘Yeah, I bet that would totally be against her sponsorship deal. THOSE ARE NOT THE OFFICIAL SHOES OF THE OLYMPICS! YOU WILL DIE NOW!’
Hazel rolled her eyes. ‘You’re both impossible.’
Behind Leo, a thunderous voice shook the ruins: ‘YOU WILL DIE NOW!’
Leo almost jumped out of his tool belt. He turned … and mentally kicked himself. He just had to invoke Adidas, the goddess of off-brand shoes.
Towering over him in a golden chariot, with a spear aimed at his heart, was the goddess Nike.
XI
Leo
THE GOLD WINGS WERE OVERKILL.
Leo could dig the chariot and the two white horses. He was okay with Nike’s glittering sleeveless dress (Calypso totally rocked that style, but that wasn’t relevant) and Nike’s piled-up braids of dark hair circled with a gilded laurel wreath.
Her expression was wide-eyed and a little crazy, like she’d just had twenty espressos and ridden a roller coaster, but that didn’t bother Leo. He could even deal with the gold-tipped spear pointed at his chest.
But those wings – they were polished gold, right down to the last feather. Leo could admire the intricate workmanship, but it was too much, too bright, too flashy. If her wings had been solar panels, Nike would’ve produced enough energy to power Miami.
‘Lady,’ he said, ‘could you fold your flappers, please? You’re giving me a sunburn.’
‘What?’ Nike’s head jerked towards him like a startled chicken’s. ‘Oh … my brilliant plumage. Very well. I suppose you can’t die in glory if you are blinded and burned.’
She tucked in her wings. The temperature dropped to a normal hundred-and-twenty-degree summer afternoon.
Leo glanced at his friends. Frank stood very still, sizing up the goddess. His backpack hadn’t yet morphed into a bow and quiver, which was probably prudent. He couldn’t have been too freaked out, because he’d avoided turning into a giant goldfish.
Hazel was having trouble with Arion. The roan stallion nickered and bucked, avoiding eye contact with the white horses pulling Nike’s chariot.
As for Percy, he held his magic ballpoint pen like he was trying to decide whether to bust out some sword moves or autograph Nike’s chariot.
Nobody stepped forward to talk. Leo kind of missed having Piper and Annabeth with them. They were good at the whole talking thing.
He decided somebody had better say something before they all died in glory.
‘So!’ He pointed his index fingers at Nike. ‘I didn’t get the briefing, and I’m pretty sure the information wasn’t covered in Frank’s pamphlet. Could you tell me what’s going on here?’
Nike’s wide-eyed stare unnerved him. Was Leo’s nose on fire? That happened sometimes when he got stressed.
‘We must have victory!’ the goddess shrieked. ‘The contest must be decided! You have come here to determine the winner, yes?’
Frank cleared his throat. ‘Are you Nike or Victoria?’
‘Argghh!’ The goddess clutched the side of her head. Her horses reared, causing Arion to do the same.
The goddess shuddered and split into two separate images, which reminded Leo – ridiculously – of when he used to lie on the floor in his apartment as a kid and play with the coiled doorstop on the skirting board. He would pull it back and let it fly: sproing! The stopper would shudder back and forth so fast it looked like it was splitting into two separate coils.
That’s what Nike looked like: a divine doorstop, splitting in two.
On the left was the first version: glittery sleeveless dress, dark hair circled with laurels, golden wings folded behind her. On the right was a different version, dressed for war in a Roman breastplate and greaves. Short auburn hair peeked out from the rim of a tall helmet. Her wings were feathery white, her dress purple, and the shaft of her spear was fixed with a plate-sized Roman insignia – a golden SPQR in a laurel wreath.
‘I am Nike!’ cried the image on the left.
‘I am Victoria!’ cried the one on the right.
For the first time, Leo understood the old saying his abuelo used to use: talking out of the side of your mouth. This goddess was literally saying two different things at once. She kept shuddering and splitting, making Leo dizzy. He was tempted to get out his tools and adjust the idle on her carburettor, because that much vibration would make her engine fly apart.
‘I am the decider of victory!’ Nike screamed. ‘Once I stood here at the corner of Zeus’s temple, venerated by all! I oversaw the games of Olympia. Offerings from every city-state were piled at my feet!’
‘Games are irrelevant!’ yelled Victoria. ‘I am the goddess of success in battle! Roman generals worshipped me! Augustus himself erected my altar in the Senate House!’
‘Ahhhh!’ both voices screamed in agony. ‘We must decide! We must have victory!’
Arion bucked so violently that Hazel had to slide off his back to avoid getting thrown. Before she could calm him down, the horse disappeared, leaving a vapour trail through the ruins.
‘Nike,’ Hazel said, stepping forward slowly, ‘you’re confused, like all the gods. The Greeks and Romans are on the verge of war. It’s causing your two aspects to clash.’
‘I know that!’ The goddess shook her spear, the tip rubber-banding into two points. ‘I cannot abide unresolved conflict! Who is stronger? Who is the winner?’
‘Lady, nobody’s the winner,’ Leo said. ‘If that war happens, everybody loses.’
‘No winner?’ Nike looked so shocked, Leo was pretty sure his nose must be on fire. ‘There is always a winner! One winner. Everyone else is a loser! Otherwise victory is meaningless. I suppose you want me to give certificates to all the contestants? Little plastic trophies to every single athlete or soldier for participation? Should we all line up and shake hands and tell each other, Good game? No! Victory must be real. It must be earned. That means it must be rare and difficult, against steep odds, and defeat must be the other possibility.’
The goddess’s two horses nipped at each other, as if getting into the spirit.
‘Uh … okay,’ Leo said. ‘I can tell you’ve got strong feelings about that. But the real war is against Gaia.’
‘He’s right,’ Hazel said. ‘Nike, you were Zeus’s charioteer in the last war with the giants, weren’t you?’
‘Of course!’
‘Then you know Gaia is the real enemy. We need your help to defeat her. The war isn’t between the Greeks and Romans.’
Victoria roared, ‘The Greeks must perish!’
‘Victory or death!’ Nike wailed. ‘One side must
prevail!’
Frank grunted. ‘I get enough of this from my dad screaming in my head.’
Victoria glared down at him. ‘A child of Mars, are you? A praetor of Rome? No true Roman would spare the Greeks. I cannot abide to be split and confused – I cannot think straight! Kill them! Win!’
‘Not happening,’ Frank said, though Leo noticed Zhang’s right eye was twitching.
Leo was struggling, too. Nike was sending off waves of tension, setting his nerves on fire. He felt like he was crouched at the starting line, waiting for someone to yell ‘Go!’ He had the irrational desire to wrap his hands around Frank’s neck, which was stupid, since his hands wouldn’t even fit around Frank’s neck.
‘Look, Miss Victory …’ Percy tried for a smile. ‘We don’t want to interrupt your crazy time. Maybe you can just finish this conversation with yourself and we’ll come back later, with, um, some bigger weapons and possibly some sedatives.’
The goddess brandished her spear. ‘You will determine the matter once and for all! Today, now, you will decide the victor! Four of you? Excellent! We will have teams. Perhaps girls versus boys!’
Hazel said, ‘Uh … no.’
‘Shirts versus skins!’
‘Definitely no,’ said Hazel.
‘Greeks versus Romans!’ Nike cried. ‘Yes, of course! Two and two. The last demigod standing wins. The others will die gloriously.’
A competitive urge pulsed through Leo’s body. It took all of his effort not to reach in his tool belt, grab a mallet and whop Hazel and Frank upside their heads.
He realized how right Annabeth had been not to send anyone whose parents had natural rivalries. If Jason were here, he and Percy would probably already be on the ground, bashing each other’s brains out.