The Last Olympian by Rick Riordan

little pictures of Hermes taped above May Castellan’s sink. I wondered if Ms. Castellan had been so crazy when Luke was little. That green-eyed fit could’ve seriously scared a nine-year-old kid. And if Hermes never visited, if he’d left Luke alone with his mom all those years . . .
    “No wonder Luke ran away,” I said. “I mean, it wasn’t right to leave his mom like that, but still—he was just a kid. Hermes shouldn’t have abandoned them.”
    Hestia scratched behind Mrs. O’Leary’s ears. The hellhound wagged her tail and accidentally knocked over a tree.
    “It’s easy to judge others,” Hestia warned. “But will you follow Luke’s path? Seek the same powers?”
    Nico set down his plate. “We have no choice, my lady. It’s the only way Percy stands a chance.”
    “Mmm.” Hestia opened her hand and the fire roared. Flames shot thirty feet into the air. Heat slapped me in the face. Then the fire died back down to normal.
    “Not all powers are spectacular.” Hestia looked at me. “Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding. Do you believe me?”
    “Uh-huh,” I said. Anything to keep her from messing with her flame powers again.
    The goddess smiled. “You are a good hero, Percy Jackson. Not too proud. I like that. But you have much to learn. When Dionysus was made a god, I gave up my throne for him. It was the only way to avoid a civil war among the gods.”
    “It unbalanced the Council,” I remembered. “Suddenly there were seven guys and five girls.”
    Hestia shrugged. “It was the best solution, not a perfect one. Now I tend the fire. I fade slowly into the background. No one will ever write epic poems about the deeds of Hestia. Most demigods don’t even stop to talk to me. But that is no matter. I keep the peace. I yield when necessary. Can you do this?”
    “I don’t know what you mean.”
    She studied me. “Perhaps not yet. But soon. Will you continue your quest?”
    “Is that why you’re here—to warn me against going?”
    Hestia shook her head. “I am here because when all else fails, when all the other mighty gods have gone off to war, I am all that’s left. Home. Hearth. I am the last Olympian. You must remember me when you face your final decision.”
    I didn’t like the way she said final .
    I looked at Nico, then back at Hestia’s warm glowing eyes. “I have to continue, my lady. I have to stop Luke . . . I mean Kronos.”
    Hestia nodded. “Very well. I cannot be of much assistance, beyond what I have already told you. But since you sacrificed to me, I can return you to your own hearth. I will see you again, Percy, on Olympus.”
    Her tone was ominous, as though our next meeting would not be happy.
    The goddess waved her hand, and everything faded.
    Suddenly I was home. Nico and I were sitting on the couch in my mom’s apartment on the Upper East Side. That was the good news. The bad news was that the rest of the living room was occupied by Mrs. O’Leary.
    I heard a muffled yell from the bedroom. Paul’s voice said, “Who put this wall of fur in the doorway?”
    “Percy?” my mom called out. “Are you here? Are you all right?”
    “I’m here!” I shouted back.
    “WOOF!” Mrs. O’Leary tried to turn in a circle to find my mom, knocking all the pictures off the walls. She’s only met my mom once before (long story), but she loves her.
    It took a few minutes, but we finally got things worked out. After destroying most of the furniture in the living room and probably making our neighbors really mad, we got my parents out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where we sat around the kitchen table. Mrs. O’Leary still took up the entire living room, but she’d settled her head in the kitchen doorway so she could see us, which made her happy. My mom tossed her a ten-pound family-size tube of ground beef, which disappeared down her gullet. Paul poured lemonade for the rest of us while I explained about our visit to Connecticut.
    “So it’s