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“Oh, please!” Gary said. “You think eternal youth and immortality make him the victim here?”

“I mean... have you seen the guy? He’s a nervous wreck.”

Gary folded his withered arms. “I’m disappointed, Percy Jackson. If you insist on helping Ganymede, I suppose I was wrong about you. Grave dust it is.”

“Hold on!” I squeaked. Sometimes when I’m in imminent danger of death, my Mickey Mouse voice comes out. “Look, I get why you’re angry. But seeing as we have common ground with the wholemortals shouldn’t be godsthing, isn’t there some way we can reach a deal?”

Gary studied me. The milky splotches drifted across his eyes like clouds on some alien planet.

“Perhaps...” His sly tone made me sorry I’d asked. “How about I give you one chance to win the cup? You should feel honored, Percy Jackson. In the history of humankind, I have only made this offer to one other hero.”

“Hercules,” I guessed, because the answer is almost always Hercules.

Gary nodded. “You must defeat me in wrestling. Ifyouwin, I will give you the chalice. If I win... you will fulfill your purpose sooner than expected, and I will turn you into a pile of powdered bone. Do we have an agreement?”

In the demigod business, we call this atrick question.

If I refused, I would get zapped to dust. If I agreed, I’d have to wrestle an old guy.ThenI’d get zapped to dust....

Looking at Gary, I found it hard to focus—and not just because of his filthy loincloth or his missing teeth. His presence made me feel claustrophobic in my own body. Blood roared in my ears. My hands turned sweaty. I had to fight a sense of panic, like my flesh had already started to crumble.

I understood why even a goddess like Iris might be scared of this guy. Immortality was one thing. Being old forever... that was something else. Other gods preferred to look young and beautiful. Gary owned his age, every millennium of it. I imagined that when the Olympians looked at him, they saw just how ancient they really were. He was like the painting in that story about the guy who never ages, but his portrait does. Earl Grey? No. That’s a kind of tea. Whatever, the story creeped me out.

None of that helped me come up with an answer. Gary was staring at me expectantly, so I fell back on my demigod tool of last resort: procrastination.

“I have conditions,” I said.

Gary tilted his wrinkly head. “Medical conditions?”

“No. Conditions for fighting you. First, if I lose, you only kill me. You leave my friends alone.”

“Old Age never leaves anyone alone.”

“You know what I mean. You don’t dust themnow. You let them go.”

“Acceptable.”

“Next...” I faltered.Come on, Percy. There has to be anext.“When you say I have to defeat you, what would that look like? You’re a god. I can’t kill you.”

“Obviously, young fool,” Gary scoffed. “If you can bend even one of my knees to the ground, I will consider that sufficient. I, on the other hand, will win when I flatten your face against the pavement. That is more than fair.”

“That was the first word that came to my mind,” I said.“Fair.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.” I racked my brain, wondering what other demands I should make. Bottled water? A bowl of only blue M&M’s in my dressing room? I needed Annabeth here to help me think.

Oh. Right. That was a thing I could ask for.

“Let my friends go,” I told Gary.

“You already asked that.”

“No,” I said. “I mean let them go from whatever you’re doing to them right now.” I gestured at Annabeth, who was still frozen at the chess game.

“I just slowed them down,” said Gary. “Old Age does that to everyone.”

“I want them here,” I said. “To say good-bye, if nothing else. Whatever happens to me, I want them to see it.”