The Lost Hero

XLV PIPER

BORROWING THE HELICOPTER WAS EASY.. Getting her dad on board was not.

Piper needed only a few words through Leo’s improvised bullhorn to convince the pilot to land on the mountain. The Park Service copter was big enough for medical evacuations or search and rescue, and when Piper told the very nice ranger pilot lady that it would be a great idea to fly them to the Oakland Airport, she readily agreed.

“No,” her dad muttered, as they picked him up off the ground. “Piper, what—there were monsters—there were monsters—”

She needed both Leo’s and Jason’s help to hold him, while Coach Hedge gathered their supplies. Fortunately Hedge had put his pants and shoes back on, so Piper didn’t have to explain the goat legs.

It broke Piper’s heart to see her dad like this—pushed beyond the breaking point, crying like a little boy. She didn’t know what the giant had done to him exactly, how the monsters had shattered his spirit, but she didn’t think she could stand to find out.

“It’ll be okay, Dad,” she said, making her voice as soothing as possible. She didn’t want to charmspeak her own father, but it seemed the only way. “These people are my friends. We’re going to help you. You’re safe now.”

He blinked, and looked up at helicopter rotors. “Blades. They had a machine with so many blades. They had six arms …”

When they got him to the bay doors, the pilot came over to help. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.

“Smoke inhalation,” Jason suggested. “Or heat exhaustion.”

“We should get him to a hospital,” the pilot said.

“It’s okay,” Piper said. “The airport is good.”

“Yeah, the airport is good,” the pilot agreed immediately. Then she frowned, as if uncertain why she’d changed her mind. “Isn’t he Tristan McLean, the movie star?”

“No,” Piper said. “He only looks like him. Forget it.”

“Yeah,” the pilot said. “Only looks like him. I—” She blinked, confused. “I forgot what I was saying. Let’s get going.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at Piper, obviously impressed, but Piper felt miserable. She didn’t want to twist people’s minds, convince them of things they didn’t believe. It felt so bossy, so wrong—like something Drew would do back at camp, or Medea in her evil department store. And how would it help her father? She couldn’t convince him he would be okay, or that nothing had happened. His trauma was just too deep.

Finally they got him on board, and the helicopter took off. The pilot kept getting questions over her radio, asking her where she was going, but she ignored them. They veered away from the burning mountain and headed toward the Berkeley Hills.

“Piper.” Her dad grasped her hand and held on like he was afraid he’d fall. “It’s you? They told me—they told me you would die. They said … horrible things would happen.”

“It’s me, Dad.” It took all her willpower not to cry. She had to be strong for him. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“They were monsters,” he said. “Real monsters. Earth spirits, right out of Grandpa Tom’s stories—and the Earth Mother was angry with me. And the giant, Tsul’kälû, breathing fire—” He focused on Piper again, his eyes like broken glass, reflecting a crazy kind of light. “They said you were a demigod. Your mother was …”

“Aphrodite,” Piper said. “Goddess of love.”

“I—I—” He took a shaky breath, then seemed to forget how to exhale.

Piper’s friends were careful not to watch. Leo fiddled with a lug nut from his tool belt. Jason gazed at the valley below—the roads backing up as mortals stopped their cars and gawked at the burning mountain. Gleeson chewed on the stub of his carnation, and for once the satyr didn’t look in the mood to yell or boast.

Tristan McLean wasn’t supposed to be seen like this. He was a star. He was confident, stylish, suave—always in control. That was the public image he projected. Piper had seen the image falter before. But this was different. Now it was broken, gone.

“I didn’t know about Mom,” Piper told him. “Not until you were taken. When we found out where you were, we came right away. My friends helped me. No one will hurt you again.”

Her dad couldn’t stop shivering. “You’re heroes—you and your friends. I can’t believe it. You’re a real hero, not like me. Not playing a part. I’m so proud of you, Pipes.” But the words were muttered listlessly, in a semi-trance.

He gazed down on the valley, and his grip on Piper’s hand went slack. “Your mother never told me.”

“She thought it was for the best.” It sounded lame, even to Piper, and no amount of charmspeak could change that. But she didn’t tell her dad what Aphrodite had really worried about: If he has to spend the rest of his life with those memories, knowing that gods and spirits walk the earth, it will shatter him.

Piper felt inside the pocket of her jacket. The vial was still there, warm to her touch.

But how could she erase his memories? Her dad finally knew who she was. He was proud of her, and for once she was his hero, not the other way around. He would never send her away now. They shared a secret.

How could she go back to the way things were?

She held his hand, speaking to him about small things—her time at the Wilderness School, her cabin at Camp Half-Blood. She told him how Coach Hedge ate carnations and got knocked on his butt on Mount Diablo, how Leo had tamed a dragon, and how Jason had made wolves back down by talking in Latin. Her friends smiled reluctantly as she recounted their adventures. Her dad seemed to relax as she talked, but he didn’t smile. Piper wasn’t even sure he heard her.

As they passed over the hills into the East Bay, Jason tensed. He leaned so far out the doorway Piper was afraid he’d fall.

He pointed. “What is that?”

Piper looked down, but she didn’t see anything interesting—just hills, woods, houses, little roads snaking through the canyons. A highway cut through a tunnel in the hills, connecting the East Bay with the inland towns.

“Where?” Piper asked.

“That road,” he said. “The one that goes through the hills.”

Piper picked up the com helmet the pilot had given her and relayed the question over the radio. The answer wasn’t very exciting.

“She says it’s Highway 24,” Piper reported. “That’s the Caldecott Tunnel. Why?”

Jason stared intently at the tunnel entrance, but he said nothing. It disappeared from view as they flew over downtown Oakland, but Jason still stared into the distance, his expression almost as unsettled as Piper’s dad’s.

“Monsters,” her dad said, a tear tracing his cheek. “I live in a world of monsters.”