Chapter 3

We drove through the course of the night. I found myself in a seaside motel, out at the stormy sea. My mother, Hesione. Daughter of Oceanus. The Lightbringer's wife.

My grandfather Oz. My earliest memory of Nantucket summers, where he used to live, swum to the surface of my mind:

"Go, Agalia," my mother coaxed. Her eyes reflected the waves.

"But mama, what if I drown? What if there are sharks?-" I screamed as she tossed me into the water. The ocean caught me like a trampoline. Laughter came from beneath the foam.

"I'm flying!" I spread my arms like wings

She laughed. "It's your birthright."

The rocky New England coast was the same. Hermes emerged from the kitchen, pizza box in hand. He smiled, handing me a plate. "Help yourself."

I ate a slice, numb. Only the worst situations could ruin Hawaiian pizza.

"The riddle says we have to find Hesione. Isn't Lethe the river of forgetfulness?"

"What the dead drink from to forget the past." He glanced out the bay window at the brewing storm. "The riddle revealed itself to you tonight. That means we have until morning to cross the Styx. Before Phobos rises and Apollo's alarm clock goes off."

"Is she - is she in Hades?"

He sighed heavily. "When your father was taken to Scythia to be bound the second time, your mother followed him. She fought Zeus barehanded. He dared not strike her, not an Oceanid. But Zeus wanted to know what Prometheus hid."

"He begged Hesione to cooperate, but she wouldn't even open her lips. So he gave Hesione to the Furies and their forceful persuasion," Hermes murmured. "They dragged her kicking and screaming to Hades."

"It was the final straw. Oceanus and the old gods turned their backs on Olympus. The demigods rejected Zeus' reign. And in the madness, Hesione escaped. She dove into the Lethe and forgot every memory, even you. With your father's silence and your mother's amnesia, there was no chance you'd be found."

"But they're gods."

Hermes laughed. "When Prometheus wants something to stay hidden, it's never found. No. The fact he and your mother stayed hidden for twelve years is incredible. It gave you time to grow."

He finished off the last pizza slice. "The Fates came to your parents before you were born. 'Your daughter is the key to Olympus' salvation,′ they prophesied. 'Like Zeus sheltered from Cronus' eye, she must be raised in secret. Go - while Phobos still sleeps!"

"Prometheus left that night. But before the midnight hour, he summoned me. "Take care of Agalia, Hermes," he said. "When the time comes, she'll need you." I've been watching over you ever since. Kind of like a guardian angel but a zillion times cooler. Angels don't know how to drive. Point is, you're my charge."

"But why did you pop into my life now?"

"Because the time's come for you to inherit."

"Huh?"

Hermes had somehow found a beer. "How can I say this without sounding like a lunatic? Well, Agalia. Y'know Jason and the Argonauts?"

"Sure."

"There's a part where Medea heals Jason with a very special flower: the prometheion. When your father was bound, his blood fell into barren Scythia, and from it, the prometheion grew. It's the flower of immortality."

"But what does that have to do with me?"

Hermes drained his beer. "As your father's power has grown, so has the potency of his lineage." He took my hand. "All of his children, at this point, would be immortal. But you're human. Prometheus certainly hid a flame."

"Right…"

"Your immortality is chained up in human bonds. You're undetectable. You stink of mortality. Even Cerberus couldn't track you." He folded my hand, placing it in my lap. "Our hold on Earth is tenuous. Your blood? It has the power to ground us, something Olympians desperately need."

I shuddered.

Hermes checked his watch. "Time to meet your gramps, sweetheart. C'mon!" he beckoned, whizzing to the porch door. I noticed pairs of wings beating at his heels.

I ran to the rocky strand, filled with coarse sand and sea glass. Hermes ran through seaweed and barnacles.

"Whoo!" He plunged into the waves. "C'mon. You know you want to." He breast-stroked.

"I do?" The tide pulled at me, sucking me in. The undeniable draw had me racing after the messenger god. I dove into the waves; the chill water swept me away.

Laughter shook the sea's basin. The water bore me aloft. Not a drop clung to me - only the caress of the ocean. Hermes skimmed the surface, as if his sandals were jet skis.

"This is impossible," I noted.

Hermes grinned. "Only improbable."

A whirlpool whizzed before us, and from the depths rose a towering god. He smiled brilliantly, skin tanned and wrinkled like a fisherman. He had a curled white mustache and graying black hair. He tilted his black cap to me.

"Oh, Agalia," he whispered. "How you've grown."

"Grandpa Oz? You died thirteen years ago!"

"Did I, now?" He winked. He stood in the middle of the sea as casually as if he were waiting in line at the supermarket.

"You're taller than I remember."

"Well, dear, you're shorter! Oh, Agalia. You have your mother's face, and your father's eyes. But I wonder. Do you still have my feet?"

I stuck one up in the air. "Still flat-footed."

My grandpa Oz - Oceanus? - chuckled. "I've pined away after you, darling. Waiting for the time to come. And your dear gran's been even worse. She has just the room for you." He drove a golden trident into the waves. The whirlpool opened. "Hold on to your cap, Hermes," Oceanus laughed.

"Kalabunga!" Hermes whooped. The waves carried me into the ocean's depths.

"Died in a fishing accident?" I muttered. "Oh grandpa Oz. Now I know why."

My grandparents' hall was a strange mix of Grecian temple and New England cottage. I sat at their white marble table, jaw wide open as I took in the opulent yet homey decor. My grandmother – Tethys, or Titi - fawned over me. She was tall and beautiful, with large eyes and a soft face.

"Look, Oz! Look at Agalia's beautiful, thick black curls. Just like you."

Grandpa rubbed his balding head. "But love, I can't remember having hair."

"Oh Oz!" grandma clucked, batting him. "You're as handsome as you were in the Golden Age. Isn't that right, Hermes? He's stately." She pushed more lobster on Hermes.

"Mmm-hmm," he said. He tore the tail from the lobster, bathing it in butter. "You're both beautiful. Beautiful, wonderful people. Beautiful, wonderful lobster." He lost himself to the food. "And Aggie's the spanking image of Prometheus. Creepy, isn't it? It's almost like the old man's looking back at me."

I blushed.

"But she has the Oceanid build, tall and strong," Oceanus smiled, nodding at his wife. "You'd be lucky to do half as well, Hermes, once you finally settle down. Imagine, legions of Hermes tykes wreaking havoc across the world," he chuckled. "It'd be something."

Hermes shrugged. "Wives, women, goddesses, girls. It's all the same. I'm the son of Zeus. I'll never settle down."

Grandpa snorted. "Just wait until you're a decrepit old windbag, Hermes. Age creeps up on you. Cronus flies, and beauty falls after him, into the boiling sea."

"You must've enjoyed Aphrodite falling into your lap."

My grandfather cleared his throat, under grandma's glare. "That's a story for another day, m'boy."

"Grandma," I said. "Where's dad?"

Her face darkened. "He's gone searching for Hesione." She touched my cheek. "Lightheartedness aside, we don't have much time. You must descend with the dawn. As the goddess of fresh water, I can lead you to Lake Avernus. Hermes will guide you the rest of the way."

I looked at the wing-footed messenger. "Hermes Psychopompous, the guide to the underworld," I said. "You lead souls to Hades, don't you?"

He smiled. "I'm a jack of all trades." He shifted his appearance. Now Hermes wielded a caduceus, dressed in a leather jacket and combat boots. "This is what I wear when I go out clubbing. Hades. Clubs. Same thing." He snapped his fingers. My jeans and sweater were replaced by leather pants and lacy black top. "There. Now you'll blend in."

"Is Hades like an industrial Goth club?"

"Close to it. Hades lets Percy do whatever she wants with the place."

Grandpa shook his head. "Gods have no respect for chitons anymore." He smoked his pipe. "Hermes, keep Agalia safe. She's worth her weight in fish."

"Glad to know I'm worth something."

Hermes looked at me knowingly. "There's a spring in Hades, Aggie. Mnemosyne, the Spring of Remembrance."

After dinner, grandma ushered me into my room. It would make a princess turn pink with envy. Hermes accompanied me, sitting down in a pearly chair. His face was shadowed under his traveler's cap.

"Your father created mankind. He knows the intricacies of vessels, how to bind immortal souls to flesh. Is it any wonder the Lightbringer's creations grow powerful enough to usurp the gods? That flame, Aggie, that he stole from heaven. He gave part of it to mankind, but kept the burning fennel for himself. He knew there was a time Olympus would need it."

"The flame Prometheus stole from Zeus is still alive? But why?"

"Your name, Agalia. Did your father tell you what it means?"

"Brightness. Something like that."

Hermes smiled softly. "'Wisdom is the wise man's flame...'"

"'Knowledge his earthly delight.′ '" I whispered. My stomach sunk. "That's what dad used to say when I complained about homework."

Hermes stared out across the sea. "A time came for the flame to take form."

A stone lodged in my throat. "I- it can't be. That's impossible."

Hermes took my hand in his. He smiled soft. "Stranger things have happened. We change form all the time. And nothing, not even light, is what it seems."

He laid his caduceus against the wall. An air mattress appeared beneath him. "Hearth and heart. Arguably the same thing. And if so, the heart of Olympus is dying." He searched for a comfortable position. "The Dodekatheon's flame is dying, no matter how hard Hestia tends to it. I wonder, are my days numbered? We need new blood. New fire. New life! A tie to the mortal world."

I shuddered. "I can't help you. I have my own life. It may be small, and I may be struggling, but it's mine."

"Your fate was determined the day your father formed you from the flame." The olive oil candles sputtered and died. The room was pitch-black. "Sleep. You need all the rest you can get."