ldquo;You have interesting friends,rdquo; Annabeth murmured.
ldquo;Bob is interesting!rdquo; The Titan turned and grinned. ldquo;Yes, thank you!rdquo;
The big guy had good ears. Annabeth would have to remember that.
ldquo;So, Bobhellip;rdquo; She tried to sound casual and friendly, which wasnrsquo;t easy with a throat scorched by firewater. ldquo;How did you get to Tartarus?rdquo;
ldquo;I jumped,rdquo; he said, like it was obvious.
ldquo;You jumped into Tartarus,rdquo; she said, ldquo;because Percy said your name?rdquo;
ldquo;He needed me.rdquo; Those silver eyes gleamed in the darkness. ldquo;It is okay. I was tired of sweeping the palace. Come along! We are almost at a rest stop.rdquo;
A rest stop.
Annabeth couldnrsquo;t imagine what those words meant in Tartarus. She remembered all the times she, Luke, and Thalia had relied on highway rest stops when they were homeless demigods, trying to survive.
Wherever Bob was taking them, she hoped it had clean restrooms and a snack machine. She repressed the giggles. Yes, she was definitely losing it.
Annabeth hobbled along, trying to ignore the rumble in her stomach. She stared at Bobrsquo;s back as he led them toward the wall of darkness, now only a few hundred yards away. His blue janitorrsquo;s coveralls were ripped between the shoulder blades, as if someone had tried to stab him. Cleaning rags stuck out of his pocket. A squirt bottle swung from his belt, the blue liquid inside sloshing hypnotically.
Annabeth remembered Percyrsquo;s story about meeting the Titan. Thalia Grace, Nico di Angelo, and Percy had worked together to defeat Bob on the banks of the Lethe. After wiping his memory, they didnrsquo;t have the heart to kill him. He became so gentle and sweet and cooperative that they left him at the palace of Hades, where Persephone promised he would be looked after.
Apparently, the Underworld king and queen thought ldquo;looking afterrdquo; someone meant giving him a broom and having him sweep up their messes. Annabeth wondered how even Hades could be so callous. Shersquo;d never felt sorry for a Titan before, but it didnrsquo;t seem right taking a brainwashed immortal and turning him into an unpaid janitor.
Hersquo;s not your friend, she reminded herself.
She was terrified that Bob would suddenly remember himself. Tartarus was where monsters came to regenerate. What if it healed his memory? If he became Iapetus againhellip;well, Annabeth had seen the way he had dealt with those empousai. Annabeth had no weapon. She and Percy were in no condition to fight a Titan.
She glanced nervously at Bobrsquo;s broom handle, wondering how long it would be before that hidden spearhead jutted out and got pointed at her.
Following Bob through Tartarus was a crazy risk. Unfortunately, she couldnrsquo;t think of a better plan.
They picked their way across the ashen wasteland as red lightning flashed overhead in the poisonous clouds. Just another lovely day in the dungeon of creation. Annabeth couldnrsquo;t see far in the hazy air, but the longer they walked, the more certain she became that the entire landscape was a downward curve.
Shersquo;d heard conflicting descriptions of Tartarus. It was a bottomless pit. It was a fortress surrounded by brass walls. It was nothing but an endless void.
One story described it as the inverse of the skymdash;a huge, hollow, upside-down dome of rock. That seemed the most accurate, though if Tartarus was a dome, Annabeth guessed it was like the skymdash;with no real bottom but made of multiple layers, each one darker and less hospitable than the last.
And even that wasnrsquo;t the full, horrible truth.hellip;
They passed a blister in the groundmdash;a writhing, translucent bubble the size of a minivan. Curled inside was the half-formed body of a drakon. Bob speared the blister without a second thought. It burst in a geyser of steaming yellow slime, and the drakon dissolved into nothing.
Bob kept walking.
Monsters are zits on the skin of Tartarus, Annabeth thought. She shuddered. Sometimes she wished she didnrsquo;t have such a good imagination, because now she was certain they were walking across a living thing. This whole twisted landscapemdash;the dome, pit, or whatever you called itmdash;was the body of the god Tartarusmdash;the most ancient incarnation of evil. Just as Gaea inhabited the surface of the earth, Tartarus inhabited the pit.
If that god noticed them walking across his skin, like fleas on a doghellip;Enough. No more thinking.
ldquo;Here,rdquo; Bob said.
They stopped at the top of a ridge. Below them, in a sheltered depression like a moon crater, stood a ring of broken black marble columns surrounding a dark stone altar.
ldquo;Hermesrsquo;s shrine,rdquo; Bob explained.
Percy frowned. ldquo;A Hermes shrine in Tartarus?rdquo;
Bob laughed in delight. ldquo;Yes. It fell from somewhere long ago. Maybe mortal world. Maybe Olympus. Anyway, monsters steer clear. Mostly.rdquo;
ldquo;How did you know it was here?rdquo; Annabeth asked.
Bobrsquo;s smile faded. He got a vacant look in his eyes. ldquo;Canrsquo;t remember.rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s okay,rdquo; Percy said quickly.
Annabeth felt like kicking herself. Before Bob became Bob, he had been Iapetus the Titan. Like all his brethren, hersquo;d been imprisoned in Tartarus for eons. Of course he knew his way around. If he remembered this shrine, he might start recalling other details of his old prison and his old life. That would not be good.
They climbed into the crater and entered the circle of columns. Annabeth collapsed on a broken slab of marble, too exhausted to take another step. Percy stood over her protectively, scanning their surroundings. The inky storm front was less than a hundred feet away now, obscuring everything ahead of them. The craterrsquo;s rim blocked their view of the wasteland behind. Theyrsquo;d be well hidden here, but if monsters did stumble across them, they would have no warning.
ldquo;You said someone was chasing us,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Who?rdquo;
Bob swept his broom around the base of the altar, occasionally crouching to study the ground as if looking for something. ldquo;They are following, yes. They know you are here. Giants and Titans. The defeated ones. They know.rdquo;
The defeated oneshellip;
Annabeth tried to control her fear. How many Titans and giants had she and Percy fought over the years? Each one had seemed like an impossible challenge. If all of them were down here in Tartarus, and if they were actively hunting Percy and Annabethhellip;
ldquo;Why are we stopping, then?rdquo; she said. ldquo;We should keep moving.rdquo;
ldquo;Soon,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;But mortals need rest. Good place here. Best place forhellip;oh, long, long way. I will guard you.rdquo;
Annabeth glanced at Percy, sending him the silent message: Uh, no. Hanging out with a Titan was bad enough. Going to sleep while the Titan guarded youhellip;she didnrsquo;t need to be a daughter of Athena to know that was one hundred percent unwise.
ldquo;You sleep,rdquo; Percy told her. ldquo;Irsquo;ll keep the first watch with Bob.rdquo;
Bob rumbled in agreement. ldquo;Yes, good. When you wake, food should be here!rdquo;
Annabethrsquo;s stomach did a rollover at the mention of food. She didnrsquo;t see how Bob could summon food in the midst of Tartarus. Maybe he was a caterer as well as a janitor.
She didnrsquo;t want to sleep, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids turned to lead. ldquo;Percy, wake me for second watch. Donrsquo;t be a hero.rdquo;
He gave her that smirk shersquo;d come to love. ldquo;Who, me?rdquo;
He kissed her, his lips parched and feverishly warm. ldquo;Sleep.rdquo;
Annabeth felt like she was back in the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood, overcome with drowsiness. She curled up on the hard ground and closed her eyes.
LATER, SHE MADE A RESOLUTION: Never EVER sleep in Tartarus.
Demigod dreams were always bad. Even in the safety of her bunk at camp, shersquo;d had horrible nightmares. In Tartarus, they were a thousand times more vivid.
First, she was a little girl again, struggling to climb Half-Blood Hill. Luke Castellan held her hand, pulling her along. Their satyr guide Grover Underwood pranced nervously at the summit, yelling, ldquo;Hurry! Hurry!rdquo;
Thalia Grace stood behind them, holding back an army of hellhounds with her terror-invoking shield, Aegis.
From the top of the hill, Annabeth could see the camp in the valley belowmdash;the warm lights of the cabins, the possibility of sanctuary. She stumbled, twisting her ankle, and Luke scooped her up to carry her. When they looked back, the monsters were only a few yards awaymdash;dozens of them surrounding Thalia.
ldquo;Go!rdquo; Thalia yelled. ldquo;Irsquo;ll hold them off.rdquo;
She brandished her spear, and forked lightning slashed through the monstersrsquo; ranks; but as the hellhounds fell, more took their place.
ldquo;We have to run!rdquo; Grover cried.
He led the way into camp. Luke followed, with Annabeth crying, beating at his chest, and screaming that they couldnrsquo;t leave Thalia alone. But it was too late.
The scene shifted.
Annabeth was older, climbing to the summit of Half-Blood Hill. Where Thalia had made her last stand, a tall pine tree now rose. Overhead a storm was raging.
Thunder shook the valley. A blast of lightning split the tree down to its roots, opening a smoking crevice. In the darkness below stood Reyna, the praetor of New Rome. Her cloak was the color of blood fresh from a vein. Her gold armor glinted. She stared up, her face regal and distant, and spoke directly into Annabethrsquo;s mind.
You have done well, Reyna said, but the voice was Athenarsquo;s. The rest of my journey must be on the wings of Rome.
The praetorrsquo;s dark eyes turned as gray as storm clouds.
I must stand here, Reyna told her. The Roman must bring me.
The hill shook. The ground rippled as the grass became folds of silkmdash;the dress of a massive goddess. Gaea rose over Camp Half-Bloodmdash;her sleeping face as large as a mountain.
Hellhounds poured over the hills. Giants, six-armed Earthborn, and wild Cyclopes charged from the beach, tearing down the dining pavilion, setting fire to the cabins and the Big House.
Hurry, said the voice of Athena. The message must be sent.
The ground split at Annabethrsquo;s feet and she fell into darkness.
Her eyes flew open. She cried out, grasping Percyrsquo;s arms. She was still in Tartarus, at the shrine of Hermes.
Her body tingled with dread. ldquo;Is itmdash;is it my turn to watch?rdquo;
ldquo;No, no. Wersquo;re good. I let you sleep.rdquo;
ldquo;Percy!rdquo;
ldquo;Hey, itrsquo;s fine. Besides, I was too excited to sleep. Look.rdquo;
Bob the Titan sat cross-legged by the altar, happily munching a piece of pizza.
Annabeth rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was still dreaming. ldquo;Is thathellip;pepperoni?rdquo;
ldquo;Burnt offerings,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Sacrifices to Hermes from the mortal world, I guess. They appeared in a cloud of smoke. Wersquo;ve got half a hot dog, some grapes, a plate of roast beef, and a package of peanut Mamp;Mrsquo;s.rdquo;
ldquo;Mamp;Mrsquo;s for Bob!rdquo; Bob said happily. ldquo;Uh,
The idea made Annabeth giddy with homesickness. At every meal, the campers would burn a portion of their food to honor their godly parents. The smoke supposedly pleased the gods, but Annabeth had never thought about where the food went when it was burned. Maybe the offerings reappeared on the godsrsquo; altars in Olympushellip;or even here, in the middle of Tartarus.
ldquo;Peanut Mamp;Mrsquo;s,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Connor Stoll always burned a pack for his dad at dinner.rdquo;
She thought about sitting in the dining pavilion, watching the sunset over Long Island Sound. That was the first place she and Percy had truly kissed. Her eyes smarted.
Percy put his hand on her shoulder. ldquo;Hey, this is good. Actual food from home, right?rdquo;
She nodded. They finished eating in silence.
Bob chomped down the last of his Mamp;Mrsquo;s. ldquo;Should go now. They will be here in a few minutes.rdquo;
ldquo;A few minutes?rdquo; Annabeth reached for her dagger, then remembered she didnrsquo;t have it.
ldquo;Yeshellip;well, I think minuteshellip;rdquo; Bob scratched his silvery hair. ldquo;Time is hard in Tartarus. Not the same.rdquo;
Percy crept to the edge of the crater. He peered back the way theyrsquo;d come. ldquo;I donrsquo;t see anything, but that doesnrsquo;t mean much. Bob, which giants are we talking about? Which Titans?rdquo;
Bob grunted. ldquo;Not sure of names. Six, maybe seven. I can sense them.rdquo;
ldquo;Six or seven?rdquo; Annabeth wasnrsquo;t sure her barbecue would stay down. ldquo;And can they sense you?rdquo;
ldquo;Donrsquo;t know.rdquo; Bob smiled. ldquo;Bob is different! But they can smell demigods, yes. You two smell very strong. Good strong. Likehellip;hmm. Like buttery bread!rdquo;
Percy climbed back to the altar. ldquo;Is it possible to kill a giant in Tartarus? I mean, since we donrsquo;t have a god to help us?rdquo;
He looked at Annabeth as if she actually had an answer.
ldquo;Percy, I donrsquo;t know. Traveling in Tartarus, fighting monsters herehellip;itrsquo;s never been done before. Maybe Bob could help us kill a giant? Maybe a Titan would count as a god? I just donrsquo;t know.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Okay.rdquo;
She could see the worry in his eyes. For years, hersquo;d depended on her for answers. Now, when he needed her most, she couldnrsquo;t help. She hated being so clueless, but nothing shersquo;d ever learned at camp had prepared her for Tartarus. There was only one thing she was sure of: they had to keep moving. They couldnrsquo;t be caught by six or seven hostile immortals.
She stood, still disoriented from her nightmares. Bob started cleaning up, collecting their trash in a little pile, using his squirt bottle to wipe off the altar.
ldquo;Where to now?rdquo; Annabeth asked.
Percy pointed at the stormy wall of darkness. ldquo;Bob says that way. Apparently the Doors of Deathmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;You told him?rdquo; Annabeth didnrsquo;t mean it to come out so harsh, but Percy winced.
ldquo;While you were asleep,rdquo; he admitted. ldquo;Annabeth, Bob can help. We need a guide.rdquo;
ldquo;Bob helps!rdquo; Bob agreed. ldquo;Into the Dark Lands. The Doors of Deathhellip;hmm, walking straight to them would be bad. Too many monsters gathered there. Even Bob could not sweep that many. They would kill Percy and Annabeth in about two seconds.rdquo; The Titan frowned. ldquo;I think seconds. Time is hard in Tartarus.rdquo;
ldquo;Right,rdquo; Annabeth grumbled. ldquo;So is there another way?rdquo;
ldquo;Hiding,rdquo; said Bob. ldquo;The Death Mist could hide you.rdquo;
ldquo;Ohhellip;rdquo; Annabeth suddenly felt very small in the shadow of the Titan. ldquo;Uh, what is Death Mist?rdquo;
ldquo;It is dangerous,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;But if the lady will give you Death Mist, it might hide you. If we can avoid Night. The lady is very close to Night. That is bad.rdquo;
ldquo;The lady,rdquo; Percy repeated.
ldquo;Yes.rdquo; Bob pointed ahead of them into the inky blackness. ldquo;We should go.rdquo;
Percy glanced at Annabeth, obviously hoping for guidance, but she had none. She was thinking about her nightmaremdash;Thaliarsquo;s tree splintered by lightning, Gaea rising on the hillside and unleashing her monsters on Camp Half-Blood.
ldquo;Okay, then,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;I guess wersquo;ll see a lady about some Death Mist.rdquo;
ldquo;Wait,rdquo; Annabeth said.
Her mind was buzzing. She thought of her dream about Luke and Thalia. She recalled the stories Luke had told her about his father, Hermesmdash;god of travelers, guide to the spirits of the dead, god of communication.
She stared at the black altar.
ldquo;Annabeth?rdquo; Percy sounded concerned.
She walked to the pile of trash and picked out a reasonably clean paper napkin.
She remembered her vision of Reyna, standing in the smoking crevice beneath the ruins of Thaliarsquo;s pine tree, speaking with the voice of Athena:
I must stand here. The Roman must bring me.
Hurry. The message must be sent.
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; she said, ldquo;offerings burned in the mortal world appear on this altar, right?rdquo;
Bob frowned uncomfortably, like he wasnrsquo;t ready for a pop quiz. ldquo;Yes?rdquo;
ldquo;So what happens if I burn something on the altar here?rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s all right,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;You donrsquo;t know. Nobody knows, because itrsquo;s never been done.rdquo;
There was a chance, she thought, just the slimmest chance that an offering burned on this altar might appear at Camp Half-Blood.
Doubtful, but if it did workhellip;
ldquo;Annabeth?rdquo; Percy said again. ldquo;Yoursquo;re planning something. Yoursquo;ve got that Irsquo;m-planning-something look.rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t have an Irsquo;m-planning-something look.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, you totally do. Your eyebrows knit and your lips press together andmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Do you have a pen?rdquo; she asked him.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re kidding, right?rdquo; He brought out Riptide.
ldquo;Yes, but can you actually write with it?rdquo;
ldquo;Imdash;I donrsquo;t know,rdquo; he admitted. ldquo;Never tried.rdquo;
He uncapped the pen. As usual, it sprang into a full-sized sword. Annabeth had watched him do this hundreds of times. Normally when he fought, Percy simply discarded the cap. It always appeared in his pocket later, as needed. When he touched the cap to the point of the sword, it would turn back into a ballpoint pen.
ldquo;What if you touch the cap to the other end of the sword?rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Like where yoursquo;d put the cap if you were actually going to write with the pen.rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Percy looked doubtful, but he touched the cap to the hilt of the sword. Riptide shrank back into a ballpoint pen, but now the writing point was exposed.
ldquo;May I?rdquo; Annabeth plucked it from his hand. She flattened the napkin against the altar and began to write. Riptidersquo;s ink glowed Celestial bronze.
ldquo;What are you doing?rdquo; Percy asked.
ldquo;Sending a message,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;I just hope Rachel gets it.rdquo;
ldquo;Rachel?rdquo; Percy asked. ldquo;You mean our Rachel? Oracle of Delphi Rachel?rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s the one.rdquo; Annabeth suppressed a smile.
Whenever she brought up Rachelrsquo;s name, Percy got nervous. At one point, Rachel had been interested in dating Percy. That was ancient history. Rachel and Annabeth were good friends now. But Annabeth didnrsquo;t mind making Percy a little uneasy. You had to keep your boyfriend on his toes.
Annabeth finished her note and folded the napkin. On the outside, she wrote:
Connor,
Give this to Rachel. Not a prank. Donrsquo;t be a moron.
Love,
Annabeth
She took a deep breath. She was asking Rachel Dare to do something ridiculously dangerous, but it was the only way she could think of to communicate with the Romansmdash;the only way that might avoid bloodshed.
ldquo;Now I just need to burn it,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Anybody got a match?rdquo;
The point of Bobrsquo;s spear shot from his broom handle. It sparked against the altar and erupted in silvery fire.
ldquo;Uh, thanks.rdquo; Annabeth lit the napkin and set it on the altar. She watched it crumble to ash and wondered if she was crazy. Could the smoke really make it out of Tartarus?
ldquo;We should go now,rdquo; Bob advised. ldquo;Really, really go. Before we are killed.rdquo;
Annabeth stared at the wall of blackness in front of them. Somewhere in there was a lady who dispensed a Death Mist that might hide them from monstersmdash;a plan recommended by a Titan, one of their bitterest enemies. Another dose of weirdness to explode her brain.
ldquo;Right,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Irsquo;m ready.rdquo;
ANNABETH LITERALLY STUMBLED over the second Titan.
After entering the storm front, they plodded on for what seemed like hours, relying on the light of Percyrsquo;s Celestial bronze blade, and on Bob, who glowed faintly in the dark like some sort of crazy janitor angel.
Annabeth could only see about five feet in front of her. In a strange way, the Dark Lands reminded her of San Francisco, where her dad livedmdash;on those summer afternoons when the fog bank rolled in like cold, wet packing material and swallowed Pacific Heights. Except here in Tartarus, the fog was made of ink.
Rocks loomed out of nowhere. Pits appeared at their feet, and Annabeth barely avoided falling in. Monstrous roars echoed in the gloom, but Annabeth couldnrsquo;t tell where they came from. All she could be certain of was that the terrain was still sloping down.
Down seemed to be the only direction allowed in Tartarus. If Annabeth backtracked even a step, she felt tired and heavy, as if gravity were increasing to discourage her. Assuming that the entire pit was the body of Tartarus, Annabeth had a nasty feeling they were marching straight down his throat.
She was so preoccupied with that thought, she didnrsquo;t notice the ledge until it was too late.
Percy yelled, ldquo;Whoa!rdquo; He grabbed for her arm, but she was already falling.
Fortunately, it was only a shallow depression. Most of it was filled with a monster blister. She had a soft landing on a warm bouncy surface and was feeling luckymdash;until she opened her eyes and found herself staring through a glowing gold membrane at another, much larger face.
She screamed and flailed, toppling sideways off the mound. Her heart did a hundred jumping jacks.
Percy helped her to her feet. ldquo;You okay?rdquo;
She didnrsquo;t trust herself to answer. If she opened her mouth, she might scream again, and that would be undignified. She was a daughter of Athena, not some shrill girlie victim in a horror movie.
But gods of Olympushellip; Curled in the membrane bubble in front of her was a fully formed Titan in golden armor, his skin the color of polished pennies. His eyes were closed, but he scowled so deeply he appeared to be on the verge of a bloodcurdling war cry. Even through the blister, Annabeth could feel the heat radiating from his body.
ldquo;Hyperion,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;I hate that guy.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Percy agreed. ldquo;Maybe the maple tree died, and he wound up back here?rdquo;
Annabeth remembered how Hyperion had summoned fiery explosions, and how many satyrs and nymphs hersquo;d destroyed before Percy and Grover stopped him.
She was about to suggest that they burst Hyperionrsquo;s bubble before he woke up. He looked ready to pop out at any moment and start charbroiling everything in his path.
Then she glanced at Bob. The silvery Titan was studying Hyperion with a frown of concentrationmdash;maybe recognition. Their faces looked so much alike.hellip;
Annabeth bit back a curse. Of course they looked alike. Hyperion was his brother. Hyperion was the Titan lord of the east. Iapetus, Bob, was the lord of the west. Take away Bobrsquo;s broom and his janitorrsquo;s clothes, put him in armor and cut his hair, change his color scheme from silver to gold, and Iapetus would have been almost indistinguishable from Hyperion.
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; she said, ldquo;we should go.rdquo;
ldquo;Gold, not silver,rdquo; Bob murmured. ldquo;But he looks like me.rdquo;
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Hey, buddy, over here.rdquo;
The Titan reluctantly turned.
ldquo;Am I your friend?rdquo; Percy asked.
ldquo;Yes.rdquo; Bob sounded dangerously uncertain. ldquo;We are friends.rdquo;
ldquo;You know that some monsters are good,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;And some are bad.rdquo;
ldquo;Hmm,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Likehellip;the pretty ghost ladies who serve Persephone are good. Exploding zombies are bad.rdquo;
ldquo;Right,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;And some mortals are good, and some are bad. Well, the same thing is true for Titans.rdquo;
ldquo;Titanshellip;rdquo; Bob loomed over them, glowering. Annabeth was pretty sure her boyfriend had just made a big mistake.
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s what you are,rdquo; Percy said calmly. ldquo;Bob the Titan. Yoursquo;re good. Yoursquo;re awesome, in fact. But some Titans are not. This guy here, Hyperion, is full-on bad. He tried to kill mehellip;tried to kill a lot of people.rdquo;
Bob blinked his silver eyes. ldquo;But he lookshellip;his face is somdash;rdquo;
ldquo;He looks like you,rdquo; Percy agreed. ldquo;Hersquo;s a Titan, like you. But hersquo;s not good like you are.rdquo;
ldquo;Bob is good.rdquo; His fingers tightened on his broom handle. ldquo;Yes. There is always at least one good onemdash;monsters, Titans, giants.rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Percy grimaced. ldquo;Well, Irsquo;m not sure about the giants.rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, yes.rdquo; Bob nodded earnestly.
Annabeth sensed theyrsquo;d already been in this place too long. Their pursuers would be closing in.
ldquo;We should go,rdquo; she urged. ldquo;What do we do abouthellip;?rdquo;
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; Percy said, ldquo;itrsquo;s your call. Hyperion is your kind. We could leave him alone, but if he wakes upmdash;rdquo;
Bobrsquo;s broom-spear swept into motion. If hersquo;d been aiming at Annabeth or Percy, they wouldrsquo;ve been cut in half. Instead, Bob slashed through the monstrous blister, which burst in a geyser of hot golden mud.
Annabeth wiped the Titan sludge out of her eyes. Where Hyperion had been, there was nothing but a smoking crater.
ldquo;Hyperion is a bad Titan,rdquo; Bob announced, his expression grim. ldquo;Now he canrsquo;t hurt my friends. He will have to re-form somewhere else in Tartarus. Hopefully it will take a long time.rdquo;
The Titanrsquo;s eyes seemed brighter than usual, as if he were about to cry quicksilver.
ldquo;Thank you, Bob,rdquo; Percy said.
How was he keeping his cool? The way he talked to Bob left Annabeth awestruckhellip;and maybe a little uneasy, too. If Percy had been serious about leaving the choice to Bob, then she didnrsquo;t like how much he trusted the Titan. If hersquo;d been manipulating Bob into making that choicehellip;well, then, Annabeth was stunned that Percy could be so calculating.
He met her eyes, but she couldnrsquo;t read his expression. That bothered her too.
ldquo;Wersquo;d better keep going,rdquo; he said.
She and Percy followed Bob, the golden mud flecks from Hyperionrsquo;s burst bubble glowing on his janitorrsquo;s uniform.
AFTER A WHILE, Annabethrsquo;s feet felt like Titan mush. She marched along, following Bob, listening to the monotonous slosh of liquid in his cleaning bottle.
Stay alert, she told herself, but it was hard. Her thoughts were as numb as her legs. From time to time, Percy took her hand or made an encouraging comment; but she could tell the dark landscape was getting to him as well. His eyes had a dull sheenmdash;like his spirit was being slowly extinguished.
He fell into Tartarus to be with you, said a voice in her head. If he dies, it will be your fault.
ldquo;Stop it,rdquo; she said aloud.
Percy frowned. ldquo;What?rdquo;
ldquo;No, not you.rdquo; She tried for a reassuring smile, but she couldnrsquo;t quite muster one. ldquo;Talking to myself. This placehellip;itrsquo;s messing with my mind. Giving me dark thoughts.rdquo;
The worry lines deepened around Percyrsquo;s sea-green eyes. ldquo;Hey, Bob, where exactly are we heading?rdquo;
ldquo;The lady,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Death Mist.rdquo;
Annabeth fought down her irritation. ldquo;But what does that mean? Who is this lady?rdquo;
ldquo;Naming her?rdquo; Bob glanced back. ldquo;Not a good idea.rdquo;
Annabeth sighed. The Titan was right. Names had power, and speaking them here in Tartarus was probably very dangerous.
ldquo;Can you at least tell us how far?rdquo; she asked.
ldquo;I do not know,rdquo; Bob admitted. ldquo;I can only feel it. We wait for the darkness to get darker. Then we go sideways.rdquo;
She was tempted to ask for a rest, but she didnrsquo;t want to stop. Not here in this cold, dark place. The black fog seeped into her body, turning her bones into moist Styrofoam.
She wondered if her message would get to Rachel Dare. If Rachel could somehow carry her proposal to Reyna without getting killed in the processhellip;
A ridiculous hope, said the voice in her head. You have only put Rachel in danger. Even if she finds the Romans, why should Reyna trust you after all that has happened?
Annabeth was tempted to shout back at the voice, but she resisted. Even if she were going crazy, she didnrsquo;t want to look like she was going crazy.
She desperately needed something to lift her spirits. A drink of actual water. A moment of sunlight. A warm bed. A kind word from her mother.
Suddenly Bob stopped. He raised his hand: Wait.
ldquo;What?rdquo; Percy whispered.
ldquo;Shh,rdquo; Bob warned. ldquo;Ahead. Something moves.rdquo;
Annabeth strained her ears. From somewhere in the fog came a deep thrumming noise, like the idling engine of a large construction vehicle. She could feel the vibrations through her shoes.
ldquo;We will surround it,rdquo; Bob whispered. ldquo;Each of you, take a flank.rdquo;
For the millionth time, Annabeth wished she had her dagger. She picked up a chunk of jagged black obsidian and crept to the left. Percy went right, his sword ready.
Bob took the middle, his spearhead glowing in the fog.
The humming got louder, shaking the gravel at Annabethrsquo;s feet. The noise seemed to be coming from immediately in front of them.
ldquo;Ready?rdquo; Bob murmured.
Annabeth crouched, preparing to spring. ldquo;On three?rdquo;
A figure appeared in the fog. Bob raised his spear.
ldquo;Wait!rdquo; Annabeth shrieked.
Bob froze just in time, the point of his spear hovering an inch above the head of a tiny calico kitten.
ldquo;Rrow?rdquo; said the kitten, clearly unimpressed by their attack plan. It butted its head against Bobrsquo;s foot and purred loudly.
It seemed impossible, but the deep rumbling sound was coming from the kitten. As it purred, the ground vibrated and pebbles danced. The kitten fixed its yellow, lamp-like eyes on one particular rock, right between Annabethrsquo;s feet, and pounced.
The cat couldrsquo;ve been a demon or a horrible Underworld monster in disguise. But Annabeth couldnrsquo;t help it. She picked it up and cuddled it. The little thing was bony under its fur, but otherwise it seemed perfectly normal.
ldquo;How didhellip;?rdquo; She couldnrsquo;t even form the question. ldquo;What is a kitten doinghellip;?rdquo;
The cat grew impatient and squirmed out of her arms. It landed with a thump, padded over to Bob, and started purring again as it rubbed against his boots.
ldquo;It must be a good monster.rdquo; Bob looked up nervously. ldquo;Isnrsquo;t it?rdquo;
Annabeth felt a lump in her throat. Seeing the huge Titan and this tiny kitten together, she suddenly felt insignificant compared to the vastness of Tartarus. This place had no respect for anythingmdash;good or bad, small or large, wise or unwise. Tartarus swallowed Titans and demigods and kittens indiscriminately.
Bob knelt down and scooped up the cat. It fit perfectly in Bobrsquo;s palm, but it decided to explore. It climbed the Titanrsquo;s arm, made itself at home on his shoulder, and closed its eyes, purring like an earthmover. Suddenly its fur shimmered. In a flash, the kitten became a ghostly skeleton, as if it had stepped behind an X-ray machine. Then it was a regular kitten again.
Annabeth blinked. ldquo;Did you seemdash;?rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah.rdquo; Percy knit his eyebrows. ldquo;Oh, manhellip;I know that kitten. Itrsquo;s one of the ones from the Smithsonian.rdquo;
Annabeth tried to make sense of that. Shersquo;d never been to the Smithsonian with Percy.hellip; Then she recalled several years ago, when the Titan Atlas had captured her. Percy and Thalia had led a quest to rescue her. Along the way, theyrsquo;d watched Atlas raise some skeleton warriors from dragon teeth in the Smithsonian Museum.
According to Percy, the Titanrsquo;s first attempt went wrong. Hersquo;d planted saber-toothed tiger teeth by mistake, and raised a batch of skeleton kittens from the soil.
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s one of them?rdquo; Annabeth asked. ldquo;How did it get here?rdquo;
Percy spread his hands helplessly. ldquo;Atlas told his servants to take the kittens away. Maybe they destroyed the cats and they were reborn in Tartarus? I donrsquo;t know.rdquo;
ldquo;Itrsquo;s cute,rdquo; Bob said, as the kitten sniffed his ear.
ldquo;But is it safe?rdquo; Annabeth asked.
The Titan scratched the kittenrsquo;s chin. Annabeth didnrsquo;t know if it was a good idea, carrying around a cat grown from a prehistoric tooth; but obviously it didnrsquo;t matter now. The Titan and the cat had bonded.
ldquo;I will call him Small Bob,rdquo; said Bob. ldquo;He is a good monster.rdquo;
End of discussion. The Titan hefted his spear and they continued marching into the gloom.
Annabeth walked in a daze, trying not to think about pizza. To keep herself distracted, she watched Small Bob the kitten pacing across Bobrsquo;s shoulders and purring, occasionally turning into a glowing kitty skeleton and then back to a calico fuzz-ball.
ldquo;Here,rdquo; Bob announced.
He stopped so suddenly, Annabeth almost ran into him.
Annabeth couldnrsquo;t tell if it was actually darker, but the air did seem colder and thicker, as if theyrsquo;d stepped into a different microclimate. Again she was reminded of San Francisco, where you could walk from one neighborhood to the next and the temperature might drop ten degrees. She wondered if the Titans had built their palace on Mount Tamalpais because the Bay Area reminded them of Tartarus.
What a depressing thought. Only Titans would see such a beautiful place as a potential outpost of the abyssmdash;a hellish home away from home.
Bob struck off to the left. They followed. The air definitely got colder. Annabeth pressed against Percy for warmth. He put his arm around her. It felt good being close to him, but she couldnrsquo;t relax.
Theyrsquo;d entered some sort of forest. Towering black trees soared into the gloom, perfectly round and bare of branches, like monstrous hair follicles. The ground was smooth and pale.
With our luck, Annabeth thought, wersquo;re marching through the armpit of Tartarus.
Suddenly her senses were on high alert, as if somebody had snapped a rubber band against the base of her neck. She rested her hand on the trunk of the nearest tree.
ldquo;What is it?rdquo; Percy raised his sword.
Bob turned and looked back, confused. ldquo;We are stopping?rdquo;
Annabeth held up her hand for silence. She wasnrsquo;t sure what had set her off. Nothing looked different. Then she realized the tree trunk was quivering. She wondered momentarily if it was the kittenrsquo;s purr; but Small Bob had fallen asleep on Large Bobrsquo;s shoulder.
Bob and Percy closed ranks with her, standing back to back.
Annabeth strained her eyes, trying to see above them in the dark, but nothing moved.
She had almost decided she was being paranoid when the first monster dropped to the ground only five feet away.
Annabethrsquo;s first thought: The Furies.
The creature looked almost exactly like one: a wrinkled hag with batlike wings, brass talons, and glowing red eyes. She wore a tattered dress of black silk, and her face was twisted and ravenous, like a demonic grandmother in the mood to kill.
Bob grunted as another one dropped in front of him, and then another in front of Percy. Soon there were half a dozen surrounding them. More hissed in the trees above.
They couldnrsquo;t be Furies, then. There were only three of those, and these winged hags didnrsquo;t carry whips. That didnrsquo;t comfort Annabeth. The monstersrsquo; talons looked plenty dangerous.
ldquo;What are you?rdquo; she demanded.
The arai, hissed a voice. The curses!
Annabeth tried to locate the speaker, but none of the demons had moved their mouths. Their eyes looked dead; their expressions were frozen, like a puppetrsquo;s. The voice simply floated overhead like a movie narratorrsquo;s, as if a single mind controlled all the creatures.
ldquo;Whatmdash;what do you want?rdquo; Annabeth asked, trying to maintain a tone of confidence.
The voice cackled maliciously. To curse you, of course! To destroy you a thousand times in the name of Mother Night!
ldquo;Only a thousand times?rdquo; Percy murmured. ldquo;Oh, goodhellip;I thought we were in trouble.rdquo;
The circle of demon ladies closed in.
EVERYTHING SMELLED LIKE POISON. Two days after leaving Venice, Hazel still couldnrsquo;t get the noxious scent of eau de cow monster out of her nose.
The seasickness didnrsquo;t help. The Argo II sailed down the Adriatic, a beautiful glittering expanse of blue; but Hazel couldnrsquo;t appreciate it, thanks to the constant rolling of the ship. Above deck, she tried to keep her eyes fixed on the horizonmdash;the white cliffs that always seemed just a mile or so to the east. What country was that, Croatia? She wasnrsquo;t sure. She just wished she were on solid ground again.
The thing that nauseated her most was the weasel.
Last night, Hecatersquo;s pet Gale had appeared in her cabin. Hazel woke from a nightmare, thinking, What is that smell? She found a furry rodent propped on her chest, staring at her with its beady black eyes.
Nothing like waking up screaming, kicking off your covers, and dancing around your cabin while a weasel scampers between your feet, screeching and farting.
Her friends rushed to her room to see if she was okay. The weasel was difficult to explain. Hazel could tell that Leo was trying hard not to make a joke.
In the morning, once the excitement died down, Hazel decided to visit Coach Hedge, since he could talk to animals.
Shersquo;d found his cabin door ajar and heard the coach inside, talking as if he were on the phone with someonemdash;except they had no phones on board. Maybe he was sending a magical Iris-message? Hazel had heard that the Greeks used those a lot.
ldquo;Sure, hon,rdquo; Hedge was saying. ldquo;Yeah, I know, baby. No, itrsquo;s great news, butmdash;rdquo; His voice broke with emotion. Hazel suddenly felt horrible for eavesdropping.
She wouldrsquo;ve backed away, but Gale squeaked at her heels. Hazel knocked on the coachrsquo;s door.
Hedge poked his head out, scowling as usual, but his eyes were red.
ldquo;What?rdquo; he growled.
ldquo;Umhellip;sorry,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Are you okay?rdquo;
The coach snorted and opened his door wide. ldquo;Kinda question is that?rdquo;
There was no one else in the room.
ldquo;Imdash;rdquo; Hazel tried to remember why she was there. ldquo;I wondered if you could talk to my weasel.rdquo;
The coachrsquo;s eyes narrowed. He lowered his voice. ldquo;Are we speaking in code? Is there an intruder aboard?rdquo;
ldquo;Well, sort of.rdquo;
Gale peeked out from behind Hazelrsquo;s feet and started chattering.
The coach looked offended. He chattered back at the weasel. They had what sounded like a very intense argument.
ldquo;What did she say?rdquo; Hazel asked.
ldquo;A lot of rude things,rdquo; grumbled the satyr. ldquo;The gist of it: shersquo;s here to see how it goes.rdquo;
ldquo;How what goes?rdquo;
Coach Hedge stomped his hoof. ldquo;How am I supposed to know? Shersquo;s a polecat! They never give a straight answer. Now, if yoursquo;ll excuse me, Irsquo;ve got, uh, stuffhellip;rdquo;
He closed the door in her face.
After breakfast, Hazel stood at the port rail, trying to settle her stomach. Next to her, Gale ran up and down the railing, passing gas; but the strong wind off the Adriatic helped whisk it away.
Hazel wondered what was wrong with Coach Hedge. He must have been using an Iris-message to talk with someone, but if hersquo;d gotten great news, why had he looked so devastated? Shersquo;d never seen him so shaken up. Unfortunately, she doubted the coach would ask for help if he needed it. He wasnrsquo;t exactly the warm and open type.
She stared at the white cliffs in the distance and thought about why Hecate had sent Gale the polecat.
Shersquo;s here to see how it goes.
Something was about to happen. Hazel would be tested.
She didnrsquo;t understand how she was supposed to learn magic with no training. Hecate expected her to defeat some super-powerful sorceressmdash;the lady in the gold dress, whom Leo had described from his dream. But how?
Hazel had spent all her free time trying to figure that out. Shersquo;d stared at her spatha, trying to make it look like a walking stick. Shersquo;d tried to summon a cloud to hide the full moon. Shersquo;d concentrated until her eyes crossed and her ears popped, but nothing happened. She couldnrsquo;t manipulate the Mist.
The last few nights, her dreams had gotten worse. She found herself back in the Fields of Asphodel, drifting aimlessly among the ghosts. Then she was in Gaearsquo;s cave in Alaska, where Hazel and her mother had died as the ceiling collapsed and the voice of the Earth Goddess wailed in anger. She was on the stairs of her motherrsquo;s apartment building in New Orleans, face-to-face with her father, Pluto. His cold fingers gripped her arm. The fabric of his black wool suit writhed with imprisoned souls. He fixed her with his dark angry eyes and said: The dead see what they believe they will see. So do the living. That is the secret.
Hersquo;d never said that to her in real life. She had no idea what it meant.
The worst nightmares seemed like glimpses of the future. Hazel was stumbling through a dark tunnel while a womanrsquo;s laughter echoed around her.
Control this if you can, child of Pluto, the woman taunted.
And always, Hazel dreamed about the images shersquo;d seen at Hecatersquo;s crossroads: Leo falling through the sky; Percy and Annabeth lying unconscious, possibly dead, in front of black metal doors; and a shrouded figure looming above themmdash;the giant Clytius wrapped in darkness.
Next to her on the rail, Gale the weasel chittered impatiently. Hazel was tempted to push the stupid rodent into the sea.
I canrsquo;t even control my own dreams, she wanted to scream. How am I supposed to control the Mist?
She was so miserable, she didnrsquo;t notice Frank until he was standing at her side.
ldquo;Feeling any better?rdquo; he asked.
He took her hand, his fingers completely covering hers. She couldnrsquo;t believe how much taller hersquo;d gotten. He had changed into so many animals, she wasnrsquo;t sure why one more transformation should amaze herhellip;but suddenly hersquo;d grown into his weight. No one could call him pudgy or cuddly anymore. He looked like a football player, solid and strong, with a new center of gravity. His shoulders had broadened. He walked with more confidence.
What Frank had done on that bridge in Venicehellip;Hazel was still in awe. None of them had actually seen the battle, but no one doubted it. Frankrsquo;s whole bearing had changed. Even Leo had stopped making jokes at his expense.
ldquo;Irsquo;mmdash;Irsquo;m all right,rdquo; Hazel managed. ldquo;You?rdquo;
He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ldquo;Irsquo;m, uh, taller. Otherwise, yeah. Irsquo;m good. I havenrsquo;t really, you know, changed inside.hellip;rdquo;
His voice held a little of the old doubt and awkwardnessmdash;the voice of her Frank, who always worried about being a klutz and messing up.
Hazel felt relieved. She liked that part of him. At first, his new appearance had shocked her. Shersquo;d been worried that his personality had changed as well.
Now she was starting to relax about that. Despite all his strength, Frank was the same sweet guy. He was still vulnerable. He still trusted her with his biggest weaknessmdash;the piece of magical firewood she carried in her coat pocket, next to her heart.
ldquo;I know, and Irsquo;m glad.rdquo; She squeezed his hand. ldquo;Itrsquo;shellip;itrsquo;s actually not you Irsquo;m worried about.rdquo;
Frank grunted. ldquo;Howrsquo;s Nico doing?rdquo;
Shersquo;d been thinking about herself, not Nico, but she followed Frankrsquo;s gaze to the top of the foremast, where Nico was perched on the yardarm.
Nico claimed that he liked to keep watch because he had good eyes. Hazel knew that wasnrsquo;t the reason. The top of the mast was one of the few places on board where Nico could be alone. The others had offered him the use of Percyrsquo;s cabin, since Percy washellip;wel
ldquo;And promising to lead us to Epirus.rdquo; Frank nodded. ldquo;I get the feeling Nico doesnrsquo;t play well with others.rdquo;
Frank stood up straight. He was wearing a beige T-shirt with a picture of a horse and the words PALIO DI SIENA. Hersquo;d only bought it a couple of days ago, but now it was too small. When he stretched, his midriff was exposed.
Hazel realized she was staring. She quickly looked away, her face flushed.
ldquo;Nico is my only relative,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Hersquo;s not easy to like, buthellip;thanks for being kind to him.rdquo;
Frank smiled. ldquo;Hey, you put up with my grandmother in Vancouver. Talk about not easy to like.rdquo;
ldquo;I loved your grandmother!rdquo;
Gale the polecat scampered up to them, farted, and ran away.
ldquo;Ugh.rdquo; Frank waved away the smell. ldquo;Why is that thing here, anyway?rdquo;
Hazel was almost glad she wasnrsquo;t on dry land. As agitated as she felt, gold and gems would probably be popping up all around her feet.
ldquo;Hecate sent Gale to observe,rdquo; she said.
ldquo;Observe what?rdquo;
Hazel tried to take comfort in Frankrsquo;s presence, his new aura of solidity and strength.
ldquo;I donrsquo;t know,rdquo; she said at last. ldquo;Some kind of test.rdquo;
Suddenly the boat lurched forward.
HAZEL AND FRANK TUMBLED OVER EACH OTHER. Hazel accidentally gave herself the Heimlich maneuver with the pommel of her sword and curled on the deck, moaning and coughing up the taste of katobleps poison.
Through a fog of pain, she heard the shiprsquo;s figurehead, Festus the bronze dragon, creaking in alarm and shooting fire.
Dimly, Hazel wondered if theyrsquo;d hit an icebergmdash;but in the Adriatic, in the middle of summer?
The ship rocked to port with a massive commotion, like telephone poles snapping in half.
ldquo;Gahh!rdquo; Leo yelled somewhere behind her. ldquo;Itrsquo;s eating the oars!rdquo;
What is? Hazel wondered. She tried to stand, but something large and heavy was pinning her legs. She realized it was Frank, grumbling as he tried to extract himself from a pile of loose rope.
Everyone else was scrambling. Jason jumped over them, his sword drawn, and raced toward the stern. Piper was already on the quarterdeck, shooting food from her cornucopia and yelling, ldquo;Hey! HEY! Eat this, ya stupid turtle!rdquo;
Turtle?
Frank helped Hazel to her feet. ldquo;You okay?rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Hazel lied, clutching her stomach. ldquo;Go!rdquo;
Frank sprinted up the steps, slinging off his backpack, which instantly transformed into a bow and quiver. By the time he reached the helm, he had already fired one arrow and was nocking the second.
Leo frantically worked the shiprsquo;s controls. ldquo;Oars wonrsquo;t retract. Get it away! Get it away!rdquo;
Up in the rigging, Nicorsquo;s face was slack with shock.
ldquo;Styxmdash;itrsquo;s huge!rdquo; he yelled. ldquo;Port! Go port!rdquo;
Coach Hedge was the last one on deck. He compensated for that with enthusiasm. He bounded up the steps, waving his baseball bat, and without hesitation goat-galloped to the stern and leaped over the rail with a gleeful ldquo;Ha-HA!rdquo;
Hazel staggered toward the quarterdeck to join her friends. The boat shuddered. More oars snapped, and Leo yelled, ldquo;No, no, no! Dang slimy-shelled son of a mother!rdquo;
Hazel reached the stern and couldnrsquo;t believe what she saw.
When she heard the word turtle, she thought of a cute little thing the size of a jewelry box, sitting on a rock in the middle of a fishpond. When she heard huge, her mind tried to adjustmdash;okay, perhaps it was like the Galapagos tortoise shersquo;d seen in the zoo once, with a shell big enough to ride on.
She did not envision a creature the size of an island. When she saw the massive dome of craggy black and brown squares, the word turtle simply did not compute. Its shell was more like a landmassmdash;hills of bone, shiny pearl valleys, kelp and moss forests, rivers of seawater trickling down the grooves of its carapace.
On the shiprsquo;s starboard side, another part of the monster rose from the water like a submarine.
Lares of Romehellip;was that its head?
Its gold eyes were the size of wading pools, with dark sideways slits for pupils. Its skin glistened like wet army camouflagemdash;brown flecked with green and yellow. Its red, toothless mouth couldrsquo;ve swallowed the Athena Parthenos in one bite.
Hazel watched as it snapped off half a dozen oars.
ldquo;Stop that!rdquo; Leo wailed.
Coach Hedge clambered around the turtlersquo;s shell, whacking at it uselessly with his baseball bat and yelling, ldquo;Take that! And that!rdquo;
Jason flew from the stern and landed on the creaturersquo;s head. He stabbed his golden sword straight between its eyes, but the blade slipped sideways, as if the turtlersquo;s skin were greased steel. Frank shot arrows at the monsterrsquo;s eyes with no success. The turtlersquo;s filmy inner eyelids blinked with uncanny precision, deflecting each shot. Piper shot cantaloupes into the water, yelling, ldquo;Fetch, ya stupid turtle!rdquo; But the turtle seemed fixated on eating the Argo II.
ldquo;How did it get so close?rdquo; Hazel demanded.
Leo threw his hands up in exasperation. ldquo;Must be that shell. Guess itrsquo;s invisible to sonar. Itrsquo;s a freaking stealth turtle!rdquo;
ldquo;Can the ship fly?rdquo; Piper asked.
ldquo;With half our oars broken off?rdquo; Leo punched some buttons and spun his Archimedes sphere. ldquo;Irsquo;ll have to try something else.rdquo;
ldquo;There!rdquo; Nico yelled from above. ldquo;Can you get us to those straits?rdquo;
Hazel looked where he was pointing. About half a mile to the east, a long strip of land ran parallel to the coastal cliffs. It was hard to be sure from a distance, but the stretch of water between them looked to be only twenty or thirty yards acrossmdash;possibly wide enough for the Argo II to slip through, but definitely not wide enough for the giant turtlersquo;s shell.
ldquo;Yeah. Yeah.rdquo; Leo apparently understood. He turned the Archimedes sphere. ldquo;Jason, get away from that thingrsquo;s head! I have an idea!rdquo;
Jason was still hacking away at the turtlersquo;s face, but when he heard Leo say I have an idea, he made the only smart choice. He flew away as fast as possible.
ldquo;Coach, come on!rdquo; Jason said.
ldquo;No, I got this!rdquo; Hedge said, but Jason grabbed him around the waist and took off. Unfortunately, the coach struggled so much that Jasonrsquo;s sword fell out of his hand and splashed into the sea.
ldquo;Coach!rdquo; Jason complained.
ldquo;What?rdquo; Hedge said. ldquo;I was softening him up!rdquo;
The turtle head-butted the hull, almost tossing the whole crew off the port side. Hazel heard a cracking sound, like the keel had splintered.
ldquo;Just another minute,rdquo; Leo said, his hands flying over the console.
ldquo;We might not be here in another minute!rdquo; Frank fired his last arrow.
Piper yelled at the turtle, ldquo;Go away!rdquo;
For a moment, it actually worked. The turtle turned from the ship and dipped its head underwater. But then it came right back and rammed them even harder.
Jason and Coach Hedge landed on the deck.
ldquo;You all right?rdquo; Piper asked.
ldquo;Fine,rdquo; Jason muttered. ldquo;Without a weapon, but fine.rdquo;
ldquo;Fire in the shell!rdquo; Leo cried, spinning his Wii controller.
Hazel thought the stern had exploded. Jets of fire blasted out behind them, washing over the turtlersquo;s head. The ship shot forward and threw Hazel to the deck again.
She hauled herself up and saw that the ship was bouncing over the waves at incredible speed, trailing fire like a rocket. The turtle was already a hundred yards behind them, its head charred and smoking.
The monster bellowed in frustration and started after them, its paddle feet scooping through the water with such power that it actually started to gain on them. The entrance to the straits was still a quarter mile ahead.
ldquo;A distraction,rdquo; Leo muttered. ldquo;Wersquo;ll never make it unless we get a distraction.rdquo;
ldquo;A distraction,rdquo; Hazel repeated.
She concentrated and thought: Arion!
She had no idea whether it would work. But instantly, Hazel spotted something on the horizonmdash;a flash of light and steam. It streaked across the surface of the Adriatic. In a heartbeat, Arion stood on the quarterdeck.
Gods of Olympus, Hazel thought. I love this horse.
Arion snorted as if to say, Of course you do. Yoursquo;re not stupid.
Hazel climbed on his back. ldquo;Piper, I could use that charmspeak of yours.rdquo;
ldquo;Once upon a time, I liked turtles,rdquo; Piper muttered, accepting a hand up. ldquo;Not anymore!rdquo;
Hazel spurred Arion. He leaped over the side of the boat, hitting the water at a full gallop.
The turtle was a fast swimmer, but it couldnrsquo;t match Arionrsquo;s speed. Hazel and Piper zipped around the monsterrsquo;s head, Hazel slicing with her sword, Piper shouting random commands like, ldquo;Dive! Turn left! Look behind you!rdquo;
The sword did no damage. Each command only worked for a moment, but they were making the turtle very annoyed. Arion whinnied derisively as the turtle snapped at him, only to get a mouthful of horse vapor.
Soon the monster had completely forgotten the Argo II. Hazel kept stabbing at its head. Piper kept yelling commands and using her cornucopia to bounce coconuts and roasted chickens off the turtlersquo;s eyeballs.
As soon as the Argo II had passed into the straits, Arion broke off his harassment. They sped after the ship, and a moment later were back on deck.
The rocket fire had extinguished, though smoking bronze exhaust vents still jutted from the stern. The Argo II limped forward under sail power, but their plan had paid off. They were safely harbored in the narrow waters, with a long, rocky island to starboard and the sheer white cliffs of the mainland to port. The turtle stopped at the entrance to the straits and glared at them balefully, but it made no attempt to follow. Its shell was obviously much too wide.
Hazel dismounted and got a big hug from Frank. ldquo;Nice work out there!rdquo; he said.
Her face flushed. ldquo;Thanks.rdquo;
Piper slid down next to her. ldquo;Leo, since when do we have jet propulsion?rdquo;
ldquo;Aw, you knowhellip;rdquo; Leo tried to look modest and failed. ldquo;Just a little something I whipped up in my spare time. Wish I could give you more than a few seconds of burn, but at least it got us out of there.rdquo;
ldquo;And roasted the turtlersquo;s head,rdquo; Jason said appreciatively. ldquo;So what now?rdquo;
ldquo;Kill it!rdquo; Coach said. ldquo;You even have to ask? We got enough distance. We got ballistae. Lock and load, demigods!rdquo;
Jason frowned. ldquo;Coach, first of all, you made me lose my sword.rdquo;
ldquo;Hey! I didnrsquo;t ask for an evac!rdquo;
ldquo;Second, I donrsquo;t think the ballistae will do any good. That shell is like Nemean Lion skin. Its head isnrsquo;t any softer.rdquo;
ldquo;So we chuck one right down its throat,rdquo; Coach said, ldquo;like you guys did with that shrimp monster thing in the Atlantic. Light it up from the inside.rdq
ldquo;You wait and fix the oars!rdquo; Coach said. ldquo;Or just sail the other direction, you big galoot.rdquo;
Frank looked confused. ldquo;Whatrsquo;s a galoot?rdquo;
ldquo;Guys!rdquo; Nico called down from the mast. ldquo;About sailing the other direction? I donrsquo;t think thatrsquo;s going to work.rdquo;
He pointed past the prow.
A quarter mile ahead of them, the long rocky strip of land curved in and met the cliffs. The channel ended in a narrow V.
ldquo;Wersquo;re not in a strait,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Wersquo;re in a dead end.rdquo;
Hazel got a cold feeling in her fingers and toes. On the port rail, Gale the weasel sat up on her haunches, staring at Hazel expectantly.
ldquo;This is a trap,rdquo; Hazel said.
The others looked at her.
ldquo;Nah, itrsquo;s fine,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Worse that happens, we make repairs. Might take overnight, but I can get the ship flying again.rdquo;
At the mouth of the inlet, the turtle roared. It didnrsquo;t appear interested in leaving.
ldquo;Wellhellip;rdquo; Piper shrugged. ldquo;At least the turtle canrsquo;t get us. Wersquo;re safe here.rdquo;
That was something no demigod should ever say. The words had barely left Piperrsquo;s mouth when an arrow sank into the mainmast, six inches from her face.
The crew scattered for cover, except for Piper, who stood frozen in place, gaping at the arrow that had almost pierced her nose the hard way.
ldquo;Piper, duck!rdquo; Jason whispered harshly.
But no other missiles rained down.
Frank studied the angle of the bolt in the mast and pointed toward the top of the cliffs.
ldquo;Up there,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Single shooter. See him?rdquo;
The sun was in her eyes, but Hazel spotted a tiny figure standing at the top of the ledge. His bronze armor glinted.
ldquo;Who the heck is he?rdquo; Leo demanded. ldquo;Why is he firing at us?rdquo;
ldquo;Guys?rdquo; Piperrsquo;s voice was thin and watery. ldquo;Therersquo;s a note.rdquo;
Hazel hadnrsquo;t seen it before, but a parchment scroll was tied to the arrow shaft. She wasnrsquo;t sure why, but that made her angry. She stormed over and untied it.
ldquo;Uh, Hazel?rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;You sure thatrsquo;s safe?rdquo;
She read the note out loud. ldquo;First line: Stand and deliver.rdquo;
ldquo;What does that mean?rdquo; Coach Hedge complained. ldquo;We are standing. Well, crouching, anyway. And if that guy is expecting a pizza delivery, forget it!rdquo;
ldquo;Therersquo;s more,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;This is a robbery. Send two of your party to the top of the cliff with all your valuables. No more than two. Leave the magic horse. No flying. No tricks. Just climb.rdquo;
ldquo;Climb what?rdquo; Piper asked.
Nico pointed. ldquo;There.rdquo;
A narrow set of steps was carved into the cliff, leading to the top. The turtle, the dead-end channel, the cliffhellip;Hazel got the feeling this was not the first time the letter writer had ambushed a ship here.
She cleared her throat and kept reading aloud: ldquo;I do mean all your valuables. Otherwise my turtle and I will destroy you. You have five minutes.rdquo;
ldquo;Use the catapults!rdquo; cried the coach.
ldquo;P.S.,rdquo; Hazel read, ldquo;Donrsquo;t even think about using your catapults.rdquo;
ldquo;Curse it!rdquo; said the coach. ldquo;This guy is good.rdquo;
ldquo;Is the note signed?rdquo; Nico asked.
Hazel shook her head. Shersquo;d heard a story back at Camp Jupiter, something about a robber who worked with a giant turtle; but as usual, as soon as she needed the information, it sat annoyingly in the back of her memory, just out of reach.
The weasel Gale watched her, waiting to see what she would do.
The test hasnrsquo;t happened yet, Hazel thought.
Distracting the turtle hadnrsquo;t been enough. Hazel hadnrsquo;t proven anything about how she could manipulate the Misthellip;mostly because she couldnrsquo;t manipulate the Mist.
Leo studied the cliff top and muttered under his breath. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s not a good trajectory. Even if I could arm the catapult before that guy pincushioned us with arrows, I donrsquo;t think I could make the shot. Thatrsquo;s hundreds of feet, almost straight up.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Frank grumbled. ldquo;My bow is useless too. Hersquo;s got a huge advantage, being above us like that. I couldnrsquo;t reach him.rdquo;
ldquo;And, umhellip;rdquo; Piper nudged the arrow that was stuck in the mast. ldquo;I have a feeling hersquo;s a good shot. I donrsquo;t think he meant to hit me. But if he didhellip;rdquo;
She didnrsquo;t need to elaborate. Whoever that robber was, he could hit a target from hundreds of feet away. He could shoot them all before they could react.
ldquo;Irsquo;ll go,rdquo; Hazel said.
She hated the idea, but she was sure Hecate had set this up as some sort of twisted challenge. This was Hazelrsquo;s testmdash;her turn to save the ship. As if she needed confirmation, Gale scampered along the railing and jumped on her shoulder, ready to hitch a ride.
The others stared at her.
Frank gripped his bow. ldquo;Hazelmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;No, listen,rdquo; she said, ldquo;this robber wants valuables. I can go up there, summon gold, jewels, whatever he wants.rdquo;
Leo raised an eyebrow. ldquo;If we pay him off, you think hersquo;ll actually let us go?rdquo;
ldquo;We donrsquo;t have much choice,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;Between that guy and the turtlehellip;rdquo;
Jason raised his hand. The others fell silent.
ldquo;Irsquo;ll go too,rdquo; he said. ldquo;The letter says two people. Irsquo;ll take Hazel up there and watch her back. Besides, I donrsquo;t like the look of those steps. If Hazel fallshellip;well, I can use the winds to keep us both from coming down the hard way.rdquo;
Arion whinnied in protest, as if to say, Yoursquo;re going without me? Yoursquo;re kidding, right?
ldquo;I have to, Arion,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Jasonhellip;yes. I think yoursquo;re right. Itrsquo;s the best plan.rdquo;
ldquo;Only wish I had my sword.rdquo; Jason glared at the coach. ldquo;Itrsquo;s back there at the bottom of the sea, and we donrsquo;t have Percy to retrieve it.rdquo;
The name Percy passed over them like a cloud. The mood on deck got even darker.
Hazel stretched out her arm. She didnrsquo;t think about it. She just concentrated on the water and called for Imperial gold.
A stupid idea. The sword was much too far away, probably hundreds of feet underwater. But she felt a quick tug in her fingers, like a bite on a fishing line, and Jasonrsquo;s blade flew out of the water and into her hand.
ldquo;Here,rdquo; she said, handing it over.
Jasonrsquo;s eyes widened. ldquo;Howhellip; That was like half a mile!rdquo;
ldquo;Irsquo;ve been practicing,rdquo; she said, though it wasnrsquo;t true.
She hoped she hadnrsquo;t accidentally cursed Jasonrsquo;s sword by summoning it, the way she cursed jewels and precious metals.
Somehow, though, she thought, weapons were different. After all, shersquo;d raised a bunch of Imperial gold equipment from Glacier Bay and distributed it to the Fifth Cohort. That had worked out okay.
She decided not to worry about it. She felt so angry at Hecate and so tired of being manipulated by the gods that she wasnrsquo;t going to let any trifling problems stand in her way. ldquo;Now, if there are no other objections, we have a robber to meet.rdquo;
HAZEL LIKED THE GREAT OUTDOORSmdash;but climbing a two-hundred-foot cliff on a stairway without rails, with a bad-tempered weasel on her shoulder? Not so much. Especially when she could have ridden Arion to the top in a matter of seconds.
Jason walked behind her so he could catch her if she fell. Hazel appreciated that, but it didnrsquo;t make the sheer drop any less scary.
She glanced to her right, which was a mistake. Her foot almost slipped, sending a spray of gravel over the edge. Gale squeaked in alarm.
ldquo;You all right?rdquo; Jason asked.
ldquo;Yes.rdquo; Hazelrsquo;s heart jackhammered at her ribs. ldquo;Fine.rdquo;
She had no room to turn and look at him. She just had to trust he wouldnrsquo;t let her plummet to her death. Since he could fly, he was the only logical backup. Still, she wished it was Frank at her back, or Nico, or Piper, or Leo. Or evenhellip;well, okay, maybe not Coach Hedge. But still, Hazel couldnrsquo;t get a read on Jason Grace.
Ever since shersquo;d arrived at Camp Jupiter, shersquo;d heard stories about him. The campers spoke with reverence about the son of Jupiter whorsquo;d risen from the lowly ranks of the Fifth Cohort to become praetor, led them to victory in the Battle of Mount Tam, then disappeared. Even now, after all the events of the past couple of weeks, Jason seemed more like a legend than a person. She had a hard time warming up to him, with those icy blue eyes and that careful reserve, like he was calculating every word before he said it. Also, she couldnrsquo;t forget how he had been ready to write off her brother, Nico, when theyrsquo;d learned he was a captive in Rome.
Jason had thought Nico was bait for a trap. He had been right. And maybe, now that Nico was safe, Hazel could see why Jasonrsquo;s caution was a good idea. Still, she didnrsquo;t quite know what to think of the guy. What if they got themselves in trouble at the top of this cliff, and Jason decided that saving Hazel wasnrsquo;t in the best interest of the quest?
She glanced up. She couldnrsquo;t see the thief from here, but she sensed he was waiting. Hazel was confident she could produce enough gems and gold to impress even the greediest robber. She wondered if the treasures she summoned would still bring bad luck. Shersquo;d never been sure whether that curse had been broken when she had died the first time. This seemed like a good opportunity to find out. Anybody who robbed innocent demigods with a giant turtle deserved a few nasty curses.
Gale the weasel jumped off her shoulder and scampered ahead. She glanced back and barked eagerly.
ldquo;Going as fast as I can,rdquo; Hazel muttered.
She couldnrsquo;t shake the feeling that the weasel was anxious to watch her fail.
ldquo;This, uh, controlling the Mist,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Have you had any luck?rdquo;
ldquo;No,rdquo; Hazel admitted.
She didnrsquo;t like to think about her failuresmdash;the seagull she couldnrsquo;t turn into a dragon, Coach Hedgersquo;s baseball bat stubbornly refusing to turn into a hot dog. She just couldnrsquo;t make herself believe any of it was possible.
ldquo;Yoursquo;ll get it,rdquo; Jason said.
His tone surprised her. It wasnrsquo;t a throwaway comment just to be nice. He sounded truly convinced. She kept climbing, but she imagined him watching her with those piercing blue eyes, his jaw set with confidence.
ldquo;How can you be sure?rdquo; she asked.
ldquo;Just am. Irsquo;ve got a good instinct for what people can domdash;demigods, anyway. Hecate wouldnrsquo;t have picked you if she didnrsquo;t believe you had power.rdquo;
Maybe that should have made Hazel feel better. It didnrsquo;t.
She had a good instinct for people too. She understood what motivated most of her friendsmdash;even her brother, Nico, who wasnrsquo;t easy to read.
But Jason? She didnrsquo;t have a clue. Everybody said he was a natural leader. She believed it.
But Hazel couldnrsquo;t forget that Jason had been Herarsquo;s first move in the war against the giants. The Queen of Olympus had dropped Jason into Camp Half-Blood, which had started this entire chain of events to stop Gaea. Why Jason first? Something told Hazel he was the linchpin. Jason would be the final play, too.
To storm or fire the world must fall. Thatrsquo;s what the prophecy said. As much as Hazel feared fire, she feared storms more. Jason Grace could cause some pretty huge storms.
She glanced up and saw the rim of the cliff only a few yards above her.
She reached the top, breathless and sweaty. A long sloping valley marched inland, dotted with scraggly olive trees and limestone boulders. There were no signs of civilization.
Hazelrsquo;s legs trembled from the climb. Gale seemed anxious to explore. The weasel barked and farted and scampered into the nearest bushes. Far below, the Argo II looked like a toy boat in the channel. Hazel didnrsquo;t understand how anyone could shoot an arrow accurately from this high up, accounting for the wind and the glare of the sun off the water. At the mouth of the inlet, the massive shape of the turtlersquo;s shell glinted like a burnished coin.
Jason joined her at the top, looking no worse for the climb.
He started to say, ldquo;Wheremdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Here!rdquo; said a voice.
Hazel flinched. Only ten feet away, a man had appeared, a bow and quiver over his shoulder and two old-fashioned flintlock dueling pistols in his hands. He wore high leather boots, leather breeches, and a pirate-style shirt. His curly black hair looked like a little kidrsquo;s do and his sparkly green eyes were friendly enough, but a red bandana covered the lower half of his face.
ldquo;Welcome!rdquo; the bandit cried, pointing his guns at them. ldquo;Your money or your life!rdquo;
Hazel was certain that he hadnrsquo;t been there a second ago. Hersquo;d simply materialized, as if hersquo;d stepped out from behind an invisible curtain.
ldquo;Who are you?rdquo; Hazel asked.
The bandit laughed. ldquo;Sciron, of course!rdquo;
ldquo;Chiron?rdquo; Jason asked. ldquo;Like the centaur?rdquo;
The bandit rolled his eyes. ldquo;Sky-ron, my friend. Son of Poseidon! Thief extraordinaire! All-around awesome guy! But thatrsquo;s not important. Irsquo;m not seeing any valuables!rdquo; he cried, as if this were excellent news. ldquo;I guess that means you want to die?rdquo;
ldquo;Wait,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Wersquo;ve got valuables. But if we give them up, how can we be sure yoursquo;ll let us go?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, they always ask that,rdquo; Sciron said. ldquo;I promise you, on the River Styx, that as soon as you surrender what I want, I will not shoot you. I will send you right back down that cliff.rdquo;
Hazel gave Jason a wary look. River Styx or no, the way Sciron phrased his promise didnrsquo;t reassure her.
ldquo;What if we fought you?rdquo; Jason asked. ldquo;You canrsquo;t attack us and hold our ship hostage at the samemdash;rdquo;
BANG! BANG!
It happened so fast, Hazelrsquo;s brain needed a moment to catch up.
Smoke curled from the side of Jasonrsquo;s head. Just above his left ear, a groove cut through his hair like a racing stripe. One of Scironrsquo;s flintlocks was still pointed at his face. The other flintlock was pointed down, over the side of the cliff, as if Scironrsquo;s second shot had been fired at the Argo II.
Hazel choked from delayed shock. ldquo;What did you do?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, donrsquo;t worry!rdquo; Sciron laughed. ldquo;If you could see that farmdash;which you canrsquo;tmdash;yoursquo;d see a hole in the deck between the shoes of the big young man, the one with the bow.rdquo;
ldquo;Frank!rdquo;
Sciron shrugged. ldquo;If you say so. That was just a demonstration. Irsquo;m afraid it could have been much more serious.rdquo;
He spun his flintlocks. The hammers reset, and Hazel had a feeling the guns had just magically reloaded.
Sciron waggled his eyebrows at Jason. ldquo;So! To answer your questionmdash;yes, I can attack you and hold your ship hostage at the same time. Celestial bronze ammunition. Quite deadly to demigods. You two would die firstmdash;bang, bang. Then I could take my time picking off your friends on that ship. Target practice is so much more fun with live targets running around screaming!rdquo;
Jason touched the new furrow that the bullet had plowed through his hair. For once, he didnrsquo;t look very confident.
Hazelrsquo;s ankles wobbled. Frank was the best shot she knew with a bow, but this bandit Sciron was inhumanly good.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re a son of Poseidon?rdquo; she managed. ldquo;I wouldrsquo;ve thought Apollo, the way you shoot.rdquo;
The smile lines deepened around his eyes. ldquo;Why, thank you! Itrsquo;s just from practice, though. The giant turtlemdash;thatrsquo;s due to my parentage. You canrsquo;t go around taming giant turtles without being a son of Poseidon! I could overwhelm your ship with a tidal wave, of course, but itrsquo;s terribly difficult work. Not nearly as fun as ambushing and shooting people.rdquo;
Hazel tried to collect her thoughts, stall for time, but it was difficult while staring down the smoking barrels of those flintlocks. ldquo;Uhhellip;whatrsquo;s the bandana for?rdquo;
ldquo;So no one recognizes me!rdquo; Sciron said.
ldquo;But you introduced yourself,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Yoursquo;re Sciron.rdquo;
The banditrsquo;s eyes widened. ldquo;How did youmdash; Oh. Yes, I suppose I did.rdquo; He lowered one flintlock and scratched the side of his head with the other. ldquo;Terribly sloppy of me. Sorry. Irsquo;m afraid Irsquo;m a little rusty. Back from the dead, and all that. Let me try again.rdquo;
He leveled his pistols. ldquo;Stand and deliver! I am an anonymous bandit, and you do not need to know my name!rdquo;
An anonymous bandit. Something clicked in Hazelrsquo;s memory. ldquo;Theseus. He killed you once.rdquo;
Scironrsquo;s shoulders slumped. ldquo;Now, why did you have to mention him? We were getting along so well!rdquo;
Jason frowned. ldquo;Hazel, you know this guyrsquo;s story?rdquo;
She nodded, though the details were murky. ldquo;Theseus met him on the road to Athens. Sciron would kill his victims by, umhellip;rdquo;
Something about the turtle. Hazel couldnrsquo;t remember.
ldquo;Theseus was such a cheater!rdquo; Sciron complained. ldquo;I donrsquo;t want to talk about him. Irsquo;m back from the dead now. Gaea promised me I could stay on the coastline and rob all the demigods I wanted, and thatrsquo;s what Irsquo;m going to do! Nowhellip;where were we?rdquo;
ldquo;You were about to let us go,rdquo; Hazel ventured.
ldquo;Hmmhellip;rdquo; Sciron said. ldquo;No, Irsquo;m pretty sure that wasnrsquo;t it. Ah, right! Money or your life. Where are your valuables? No valuables? Then Irsquo;ll have tomdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Wait,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;I have our valuables. At least, I can get them.rdquo;
Sciron pointed a flintlock at Jasonrsquo;s head. ldquo;Well, then, my dear, hop to it, or my next shot will cut off more than your friendrsquo;s hair!rdquo;
Hazel hardly needed to concentrate. She was so anxious, the ground rumbled beneath her and immediately yielded a bumper cropmdash;precious metals popping to the surface as though the dirt was anxious to expel them.
She found herself surrounded by a knee-high mound of treasuremdash;Roman denarii, silver drachmas, ancient gold jewelry, glittering diamonds and topaz and rubiesmdash;enough to fill several lawn bags.
Sciron laughed with delight. ldquo;How in the world did you do that?rdquo;
Hazel didnrsquo;t answer. She thought about all the coins that had appeared at the crossroads with Hecate. Here were even moremdash;centuriesrsquo; worth of hidden wealth from every empire that had ever claimed this landmdash;Greek, Roman, Byzantine, and so many others. Those empires were gone, leaving only a barren coastline for Sciron the bandit.
That thought made her feel small and powerless.
ldquo;Just take the treasure,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Let us go.rdquo;
Sciron chuckled. ldquo;Oh, but I did say all your valuables. I understand yoursquo;re holding something very special on that shiphellip;a certain ivory-and-gold statue about, say, forty feet tall?rdquo;
The sweat started to dry on Hazelrsquo;s neck, sending a shiver down her back.
Jason stepped forward. Despite the gun pointed at his face, his eyes were as hard as sapphires. ldquo;The statue isnrsquo;t negotiable.rdquo;
ldquo;Yoursquo;re right, itrsquo;s not!rdquo; Sciron agreed. ldquo;I must have it!rdquo;
ldquo;Gaea told you about it,rdquo; Hazel guessed. ldquo;She ordered you to take it.rdquo;
Sciron shrugged. ldquo;Maybe. But she told me I could keep it for myself. Hard to pass up that offer! I donrsquo;t intend to die again, my friends. I intend to live a long life as a very wealthy man!rdquo;
ldquo;The statue wonrsquo;t do you any good,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Not if Gaea destroys the world.rdquo;
The muzzles of Scironrsquo;s pistols wavered. ldquo;Pardon?rdquo;
ldquo;Gaea is using you,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;If you take that statue, we wonrsquo;t be able to defeat her. Shersquo;s planning on wiping all mortals and demigods off the face of the earth, letting her giants and monsters take over. So where will you spend your gold, Sciron? Assuming Gaea even lets you live.rdquo;
Hazel let that sink in. She figured Sciron would have no trouble believing in double-crosses, being a bandit and all.
He was silent for a count of ten.
Finally his smile lines returned.
ldquo;All right!rdquo; he said. ldquo;Irsquo;m not unreasonable. Keep the statue.rdquo;
Jason blinked. ldquo;We can go?rdquo;
ldquo;Just one more thing,rdquo; Sciron said. ldquo;I always demand a show of respect. Before I let my victims leave, I insist that they wash my feet.rdquo;
Hazel wasnrsquo;t sure shersquo;d heard him right. Then Sciron kicked off his leather boots, one after the other. His bare feet were the most disgusting things Hazel had ever seenhellip;and she had seen some very disgusting things.
They were puffy, wrinkled, and white as dough, as if theyrsquo;d been soaking in formaldehyde for a few centuries. Tufts of brown hair sprouted from each misshapen toe. His jagged toenails were green and yellow, like a tortoisersquo;s shell.
Then the smell hit her. Hazel didnrsquo;t know if her fatherrsquo;s Underworld palace had a cafeteria for zombies, but if it did, that cafeteria would smell like Scironrsquo;s feet.
ldquo;So!rdquo; Sciron wriggled his disgusting toes. ldquo;Who wants the left, and who wants the right?rdquo;
Jasonrsquo;s face turned almost as white as those feet. ldquo;Yoursquo;vehellip;got to be kidding.rdquo;
ldquo;Not at all!rdquo; Sciron said. ldquo;Wash my feet, and wersquo;re done. Irsquo;ll send you back down the cliff. I promise on the River Styx.rdquo;
He made that promise so easily, alarm bells rang in Hazelrsquo;s mind. Feet. Send you back down the cliff. Tortoise shell.
The story came back to her, all the missing pieces fitting into place. She remembered how Sciron killed his victims.
ldquo;Could we have a moment?rdquo; Hazel asked the bandit.
Hazel climbed out of her pile of treasure. She led Jason as far away as she daredmdash;about fifty feet down the cliff, which she hoped was out of earshot.
ldquo;Sciron kicks his victims off the cliff,rdquo; she whispered.
Jason scowled. ldquo;What?rdquo;
ldquo;When you kneel down to wash his feet,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s how he kills you. When yoursquo;re off-balance, woozy from the smell of his feet, hersquo;ll kick you over the edge. Yoursquo;ll fall right into the mouth of his giant turtle.rdquo;
Jason took a moment to digest that, so to speak. He glanced over the cliff, where the turtlersquo;s massive shell glinted just under the water.
ldquo;So we have to fight,rdquo; Jason said.
ldquo;Scironrsquo;s too fast,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Hersquo;ll kill us both.rdquo;
ldquo;Then Irsquo;ll be ready to fly. When he kicks me over, Irsquo;ll float halfway down the cliff. Then when he kicks you, Irsquo;ll catch you.rdquo;
Hazel shook her head. ldquo;If he kicks you hard and fast enough, yoursquo;ll be too dazed to fly. And even if you can, Scironrsquo;s got the eyes of a marksman. Hersquo;ll watch you fall. If you hover, hersquo;ll just shoot you out of the air.rdquo;
ldquo;Thenhellip;rdquo; Jason clenched his sword hilt. ldquo;I hope you have another idea?rdquo;
A few feet away, Gale the weasel appeared from the bushes. She gnashed her teeth and peered at Hazel as if to say, Well? Do you?
Hazel calmed her nerves, trying to avoid pulling more gold from the ground. She remembered the dream shersquo;d had of her father Plutorsquo;s voice: The dead see what they believe they will see. So do the living. That is the secret.
She understood what she had to do. She hated the idea worse than she hated that farting weasel, worse than she hated Scironrsquo;s feet.
ldquo;Unfortunately, yes,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;We have to let Sciron win.rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo; Jason demanded.
Hazel told him the plan.
ldquo;FINALLY!rdquo; SCIRON CRIED. ldquo;That was much longer than two minutes!rdquo;
ldquo;Sorry,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;It was a big decisionhellip;which foot.rdquo;
Hazel tried to clear her mind and imagine the scene through Scironrsquo;s eyesmdash;what he desired, what he expected.
That was the key to using the Mist. She couldnrsquo;t force someone to see the world her way. She couldnrsquo;t make Scironrsquo;s reality appear less believable. But if she showed him what he wanted to seehellip;well, she was a child of Pluto. Shersquo;d spent decades with the dead, listening to them yearn for past lives that were only half-remembered, distorted by nostalgia.
The dead saw what they believed they would see. So did the living.
Pluto was the god of the Underworld, the god of wealth. Maybe those two spheres of influence were more connected than Hazel had realized. There wasnrsquo;t much difference between longing and greed.
If she could summon gold and diamonds, why not summon another kind of treasuremdash;a vision of the world people wanted to see?
Of course she could be wrong, in which case she and Jason were about to be turtle food.
She rested her hand on her jacket pocket, where Frankrsquo;s magical firewood seemed heavier than usual. She wasnrsquo;t just carrying his lifeline now. She was carrying the lives of the entire crew.
Jason stepped forward, his hands open in surrender. ldquo;Irsquo;ll go first, Sciron. Irsquo;ll wash your left foot.rdquo;
ldquo;Excellent choice!rdquo; Sciron wriggled his hairy, corpse-like toes. ldquo;I may have stepped on something with that foot. It felt a little squishy inside my boot. But Irsquo;m sure yoursquo;ll clean it properly.rdquo;
Jasonrsquo;s ears reddened. From the tension in his neck, Hazel could tell that he was tempted to drop the charade and attackmdash;one quick slash with his Imperial gold blade. But Hazel knew if he tried, he would fail.
ldquo;Sciron,rdquo; she broke in, ldquo;do you have water? Soap? How are we supposed to washmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Like this!rdquo; Sciron spun his left flintlock. Suddenly it became a squirt bottle with a rag. He tossed it to Jason.
Jason squinted at the label. ldquo;You want me to wash your feet with glass cleaner?rdquo;
ldquo;Of course not!rdquo; Sciron knit his eyebrows. ldquo;It says multi-surface cleanser. My feet definitely qualify as multi-surface. Besides, itrsquo;s antibacterial. I need that. Believe me, water wonrsquo;t do the trick on these babies.rdquo;
Sciron wiggled his toes, and more zombie café odor wafted across the cliffs.
Jason gagged. ldquo;Oh, gods, nohellip;rdquo;
Sciron shrugged. ldquo;You can always choose whatrsquo;s in my other hand.rdquo; He hefted his right flintlock.
ldquo;Hersquo;ll do it,rdquo; Hazel said.
Jason glared at her, but Hazel won the staring contest.
ldquo;Fine,rdquo; he muttered.
ldquo;Excellent! Nowhellip;rdquo; Sciron hopped to the nearest chunk of limestone that was the right size for a footstool. He faced the water and planted his foot, so he looked like some explorer whorsquo;d just claimed a new country. ldquo;Irsquo;ll watch the horizon while you scrub my bunions. Itrsquo;ll be much more enjoyable.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;I bet.rdquo;
Jason knelt in front of the bandit, at the edge of the cliff, where he was an easy target. One kick, and hersquo;d topple over.
Hazel concentrated. She imagined she was Sciron, the lord of bandits. She was looking down at a pathetic blond-haired kid who was no threat at allmdash;just another defeated demigod about to become his victim.
In her mind, she saw what would happen. She summoned the Mist, calling it from the depths of the earth the way she did with gold or silver or rubies.
Jason squirted the cleaning fluid. His eyes watered. He wiped Scironrsquo;s big toe with his rag and turned aside to gag. Hazel could barely watch. When the kick happened, she almost missed it.
Sciron slammed his foot into Jasonrsquo;s chest. Jason tumbled backward over the edge, his arms flailing, screaming as he fell. When he was about to hit the water, the turtle rose up and swallowed him in one bite, then sank below the surface.
Alarm bells sounded on the Argo II. Hazelrsquo;s friends scrambled on deck, manning the catapults. Hazel heard Piper wailing all the way from the ship.
It was so disturbing, Hazel almost lost her focus. She forced her mind to split into two partsmdash;one intensely focused on her task, one playing the role Sciron needed to see.
She screamed in outrage. ldquo;What did you do?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, dearhellip;rdquo; Sciron sounded sad, but Hazel got the impression he was hiding a grin under his bandana. ldquo;That was an accident, I assure you.rdquo;
ldquo;My friends will kill you now!rdquo;
ldquo;They can try,rdquo; Sciron said. ldquo;But in the meantime, I think you have time to wash my other foot! Believe me, my dear. My turtle is full now. He doesnrsquo;t want you too. Yoursquo;ll be quite safe, unless you refuse.rdquo;
He leveled the flintlock pistol at her head.
She hesitated, letting him see her anguish. She couldnrsquo;t agree too easily, or he wouldnrsquo;t think she was beaten.
ldquo;Donrsquo;t kick me,rdquo; she said, half-sobbing.
His eyes twinkled. This was exactly what he expected. She was broken and helpless. Sciron, the son of Poseidon, had won again.
Hazel could hardly believe this guy had the same father as Percy Jackson. Then she remembered that Poseidon had a changeable personality, like the sea. Maybe his children reflected that. Percy was a child of Poseidonrsquo;s better naturemdash;powerful, but gentle and helpful, the kind of sea that sped ships safely to distant lands. Sciron was a child of Poseidonrsquo;s other sidemdash;the kind of sea that battered relentlessly at the coastline until it crumbled away, or carried the innocents from shore and let them drown, or smashed ships and killed entire crews without mercy.
She snatched up the spray bottle Jason had dropped.
ldquo;Sciron,rdquo; she growled, ldquo;your feet are the least disgusting thing about you.rdquo;
His green eyes hardened. ldquo;Just clean.rdquo;
She knelt, trying to ignore the smell. She shuffled to one side, forcing Sciron to adjust his stance, but she imagined that the sea was still at her back. She held that vision in her mind as she shuffled sideways again.
ldquo;Just get on with it!rdquo; Sciron said.
Hazel suppressed a smile. Shersquo;d managed to turn Sciron one hundred and eighty degrees, but he still saw the water in front of him, the rolling countryside at his back.
She started to clean.
Hazel had done plenty of ugly work before. Shersquo;d cleaned the unicorn stables at Camp Jupiter. Shersquo;d filled and dug latrines for the legion.
This is nothing, she told herself. But it was hard not to retch when she looked at Scironrsquo;s toes.
When the kick came, she flew backward, but she didnrsquo;t go far. She landed on her butt in the grass a few yards away.
Sciron stared at her. ldquo;Buthellip;rdquo;
Suddenly the world shifted. The illusion melted, leaving Sciron totally confused. The sea was at his back. Hersquo;d only succeeded in kicking Hazel away from the ledge.
He lowered his flintlock. ldquo;Howmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Stand and deliver,rdquo; Hazel told him.
Jason swooped out of the sky, right over her head, and body-slammed the bandit over the cliff.
Sciron screamed as he fell, firing his flintlock wildly, but for once hitting nothing. Hazel got to her feet. She reached the cliffrsquo;s edge in time to see the turtle lunge and snap Sciron out of the air.
Jason grinned. ldquo;Hazel, that was amazing. Seriouslyhellip;Hazel? Hey, Hazel?rdquo;
Hazel collapsed to her knees, suddenly dizzy.
Distantly, she could hear her friends cheering from the ship below. Jason stood over her, but he was moving in slow motion, his outline blurry, his voice nothing but static.
Frost crept across the rocks and grass around her. The mound of riches shersquo;d summoned sank back into the earth. The Mist swirled.
What have I done? she thought in a panic. Something went wrong.
ldquo;No, Hazel,rdquo; said a deep voice behind her. ldquo;You have done well.rdquo;
She hardly dared to breathe. Shersquo;d only heard that voice once before, but she had replayed it in her mind thousands of times.
She turned and found herself looking up at her father.
He was dressed in Roman stylemdash;his dark hair close-cropped, his pale, angular face clean-shaven. His tunic and toga were of black wool, embroidered with threads of gold. The faces of tormented souls shifted in the fabric. The edge of his toga was lined with the crimson of a senator or a praetor, but the stripe rippled like a river of blood. On Plutorsquo;s ring finger was a massive opal, like a chunk of polished frozen Mist.
His wedding ring, Hazel thought. But Pluto had never married Hazelrsquo;s mother. Gods did not marry mortals. That ring would signify his marriage to Persephone.
The thought made Hazel so angry, she shook off her dizziness and stood.
ldquo;What do you want?rdquo; she demanded.
She hoped her tone would hurt himmdash;jab him for all the pain hersquo;d caused her. But a faint smile played across his mouth.
ldquo;My daughter,rdquo; he said. ldquo;I am impressed. Y
ldquo;We are,rdquo; Pluto agreed. ldquo;But you invoked me so strongly that you allowed me to appearhellip;if only for a moment.rdquo;
ldquo;I didnrsquo;t invoke you.rdquo;
But even as she said it, she knew it wasnrsquo;t true. For the first time, willingly, shersquo;d embraced her lineage as a child of Pluto. Shersquo;d tried to understand her fatherrsquo;s powers and use them to the fullest.
ldquo;When you come to my house in Epirus,rdquo; Pluto said, ldquo;you must be prepared. The dead will not welcome you. And the sorceress Pasiphaëmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Pacify?rdquo; Hazel asked. Then she realized that must be the womanrsquo;s name.
ldquo;She will not be fooled as easily as Sciron.rdquo; Plutorsquo;s eyes glittered like volcanic stone. ldquo;You succeeded in your first test, but Pasiphaë intends to rebuild her domain, which will endanger all demigods. Unless you stop her at the House of Hadeshellip;rdquo;
His form flickered. For a moment he was bearded, in Greek robes with a golden laurel wreath in his hair. Around his feet, skeletal hands broke through the earth.
The god gritted his teeth and scowled.
His Roman form stabilized. The skeletal hands dissolved back into the earth.
ldquo;We do not have much time.rdquo; He looked like a man whorsquo;d just been violently ill. ldquo;Know that the Doors of Death are at the lowest level of the Necromanteion. You must make Pasiphaë see what she wants to see. You are right. That is the secret to all magic. But it will not be easy when you are in her maze.rdquo;
ldquo;What do you mean? What maze?rdquo;
ldquo;You will understand,rdquo; he promised. ldquo;And, Hazel Levesquehellip;you will not believe me, but I am proud of your strength. Sometimeshellip;sometimes the only way I can care for my children is to keep my distance.rdquo;
Hazel bit back an insult. Pluto was just another deadbeat godly dad making weak excuses. But her heart pounded as she replayed his words: I am proud of your strength.
ldquo;Go to your friends,rdquo; Pluto said. ldquo;They will be worried. The journey to Epirus still holds many perils.rdquo;
ldquo;Wait,rdquo; Hazel said.
Pluto raised an eyebrow.
ldquo;When I met Thanatos,rdquo; she said, ldquo;you knowhellip;Deathhellip;he told me I wasnrsquo;t on your list of rogue spirits to capture. He said maybe thatrsquo;s why you were keeping your distance. If you acknowledged me, yoursquo;d have to take me back to the Underworld.rdquo;
Pluto waited. ldquo;What is your question?rdquo;
ldquo;Yoursquo;re here. Why donrsquo;t you take me to the Underworld? Return me to the dead?rdquo;
Plutorsquo;s form started to fade. He smiled, but Hazel couldnrsquo;t tell if he was sad or pleased. ldquo;Perhaps that is not what I want to see, Hazel. Perhaps I was never here.rdquo;
PERCY WAS RELIEVED when the demon grandmothers closed in for the kill.
Sure, he was terrified. He didnrsquo;t like the odds of three against several dozen. But at least he understood fighting. Wandering through the darkness, waiting to be attackedmdash;that had been driving him crazy.
Besides, he and Annabeth had fought together many times. And now they had a Titan on their side.
ldquo;Back off.rdquo; Percy jabbed Riptide at the nearest shriveled hag, but she only sneered.
We are the arai, said that weird voice-over, like the entire forest was speaking. You cannot destroy us.
Annabeth pressed against his shoulder. ldquo;Donrsquo;t touch them,rdquo; she warned. ldquo;Theyrsquo;re the spirits of curses.rdquo;
ldquo;Bob doesnrsquo;t like curses,rdquo; Bob decided. The skeleton kitten Small Bob disappeared inside his coveralls. Smart cat.
The Titan swept his broom in a wide arc, forcing the spirits back, but they came in again like the tide.
We serve the bitter and the defeated, said the arai. We serve the slain who prayed for vengeance with their final breath. We have many curses to share with you.
The firewater in Percyrsquo;s stomach started crawling up his throat. He wished Tartarus had better beverage options, or maybe a tree that dispensed antacid fruit.
ldquo;I appreciate the offer,rdquo; he said. ldquo;But my mom told me not to accept curses from strangers.rdquo;
The nearest demon lunged. Her claws extended like bony switchblades. Percy cut her in two, but as soon as she vaporized, the sides of his chest flared with pain. He stumbled back, clamping his hand to his rib cage. His fingers came away wet and red.
ldquo;Percy, yoursquo;re bleeding!rdquo; Annabeth cried, which was kind of obvious to him at that point. ldquo;Oh, gods, on both sides.rdquo;
It was true. The left and right hems of his tattered shirt were sticky with blood, as if a javelin had run him through.
Or an arrowhellip;
Queasiness almost knocked him over. Vengeance. A curse from the slain.
He flashed back to an encounter in Texas two years agomdash;a fight with a monstrous rancher who could only be killed if each of his three bodies was cut through simultaneously.
ldquo;Geryon,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;This is how I killed him.hellip;rdquo;
The spirits bared their fangs. More arai leaped from the black trees, flapping their leathery wings.
Yes, they agreed. Feel the pain you inflicted upon Geryon. So many curses have been leveled at you, Percy Jackson. Which will you die from? Choose, or we will rip you apart!
Somehow he stayed on his feet. The blood stopped spreading, but he still felt like he had a hot metal curtain rod sticking through his ribs. His sword arm was heavy and weak.
ldquo;I donrsquo;t understand,rdquo; he muttered.
Bobrsquo;s voice seemed to echo from the end of a long tunnel: ldquo;If you kill one, it gives you a curse.rdquo;
ldquo;But if we donrsquo;t kill themhellip;rdquo; Annabeth said.
ldquo;Theyrsquo;ll kill us anyway,rdquo; Percy guessed.
Choose! the arai cried. Will you be crushed like Kampê? Or disintegrated like the young telkhines you slaughtered under Mount St. Helens? You have spread so much death and suffering, Percy Jackson. Let us repay you!
The winged hags pressed in, their breath sour, their eyes burning with hatred. They looked like Furies, but Percy decided these things were even worse. At least the three Furies were under the control of Hades. These things were wild, and they just kept multiplying.
If they really embodied the dying curses of every enemy Percy had ever destroyedhellip;then Percy was in serious trouble. Hersquo;d faced a lot of enemies.
One of the demons lunged at Annabeth. Instinctively, she dodged. She brought her rock down on the old ladyrsquo;s head and broke her into dust.
It wasnrsquo;t like Annabeth had a choice. Percy wouldrsquo;ve done the same thing. But instantly Annabeth dropped her rock and cried in alarm.
ldquo;I canrsquo;t see!rdquo; She touched her face, looking around wildly. Her eyes were pure white.
Percy ran to her side as the arai cackled.
Polyphemus cursed you when you tricked him with your invisibility in the Sea of Monsters. You called yourself Nobody. He could not see you. Now you will not see your attackers.
ldquo;Irsquo;ve got you,rdquo; Percy promised. He put his arm around Annabeth, but as the arai advanced, he didnrsquo;t know how he could protect either of them.
A dozen demons leaped from every direction, but Bob yelled, ldquo;SWEEP!rdquo;
His broom whooshed over Percyrsquo;s head. The entire arai offensive line toppled backward like bowling pins.
More surged forward. Bob whacked one over the head and speared another, blasting them to dust. The others backed away.
Percy held his breath, waiting for their Titan friend to be laid low with some terrible curse, but Bob seemed finemdash;a massive silvery bodyguard keeping death at bay with the worldrsquo;s most terrifying cleaning implement.
ldquo;Bob, you okay?rdquo; Percy asked. ldquo;No curses?rdquo;
ldquo;No curses for Bob!rdquo; Bob agreed.
The arai snarled and circled, eying the broom. The Titan is already cursed. Why should we torture him further? You, Percy Jackson, have already destroyed his memory.
Bobrsquo;s spearhead dipped.
ldquo;Bob, donrsquo;t listen to them,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Theyrsquo;re evil!rdquo;
Time slowed. Percy wondered if the spirit of Kronos was somewhere nearby, swirling in the darkness, enjoying this moment so much that he wanted it to last forever. Percy felt exactly like he had at twelve years old, battling Ares on that beach in Los Angeles, when the shadow of the Titan lord had first passed over him.
Bob turned. His wild white hair looked like an exploded halo. ldquo;My memoryhellip; It was you?rdquo;
Curse him, Titan! the arai urged, their red eyes gleaming. Add to our numbers!
Percyrsquo;s heart pressed against his spine. ldquo;Bob, itrsquo;s a long story. I didnrsquo;t want you to be my enemy. I tried to make you a friend.rdquo;
By stealing your life, the arai said. Leaving you in the palace of Hades to scrub floors!
Annabeth gripped Percyrsquo;s hand. ldquo;Which way?rdquo; she whispered. ldquo;If we have to run?rdquo;
He understood. If Bob wouldnrsquo;t protect them, their only chance was to runmdash;but that wasnrsquo;t any chance at all.
ldquo;Bob, listen,rdquo; he tried again, ldquo;the arai want you to get angry. They spawn from bitter thoughts. Donrsquo;t give them what they want. We are your friends.rdquo;
Even as he said it, Percy felt like a liar. Hersquo;d left Bob in the Underworld and hadnrsquo;t given him a thought since. What made them friends? The fact that Percy needed him now? Percy always hated it when the gods used him for their errands. Now Percy was treating Bob the same way.
You see his face? the arai growled. The boy cannot even convince himself. Did he visit you, after he stole your memory?
ldquo;No,rdquo; Bob murmured. His lower lip quivered. ldquo;The other one did.rdquo;
Percyrsquo;s thoughts moved sluggishly. ldquo;The other one?rdquo;
ldquo;Nico.rdquo; Bob scowled at him, his eyes full of hurt. ldquo;Nico visited. Told me about Percy. Said Percy was good. Said he was a friend. That is why Bob helped.rdquo;
ldquo;Buthellip;rdquo; Percyrsquo;s voice disintegrated like someone had hit it with a Celestial bronze blade. Hersquo;d never felt so low and dishonorable, so unworthy of having a friend.
The arai attacked, and this time Bob did not stop them.
ldquo;LEFT!rdquo; PERCY DRAGGED ANNABETH, slicing through the arai to clear a path. He probably brought down a dozen curses on himself, but he didnrsquo;t feel them right away, so he kept running.
The pain in his chest flared with every step. He wove between the trees, leading Annabeth at a full sprint despite her blindness.
Percy realized how much she trusted him to get her out of this. He couldnrsquo;t let her down, yet how could he save her? And if she was permanently blindhellip; No. He suppressed a surge of panic. He would figure out how to cure her later. First they had to escape.
Leathery wings beat the air above them. Angry hissing and the scuttling of clawed feet told him the demons were at their backs.
As they ran past one of the black trees, he slashed his sword across the trunk. He heard it topple, followed by the satisfying crunch of several dozen arai as they were smashed flat.
If a tree falls in the forest and crushes a demon, does the t
ldquo;What?rdquo; she cried. ldquo;What is it?rdquo;
ldquo;Cliff,rdquo; he gasped. ldquo;Big cliff.rdquo;
ldquo;Which way, then?rdquo;
Percy couldnrsquo;t see how far the cliff dropped. It could be ten feet or a thousand. There was no telling what was at the bottom. They could jump and hope for the best, but he doubted ldquo;the bestrdquo; ever happened in Tartarus.
So, two options: right or left, following the edge.
He was about to choose randomly when a winged demon descended in front of him, hovering over the void on her bat wings, just out of sword reach.
Did you have a nice walk? asked the collective voice, echoing all around them.
Percy turned. The arai poured out of the woods, making a crescent around them. One grabbed Annabethrsquo;s arm. Annabeth wailed in rage, judo-flipping the monster and dropping on its neck, putting her whole body weight into an elbow strike that wouldrsquo;ve made any pro wrestler proud.
The demon dissolved, but when Annabeth got to her feet, she looked stunned and afraid as well as blind.
ldquo;Percy?rdquo; she called, panic creeping into her voice.
ldquo;Irsquo;m right here.rdquo;
He tried to put his hand on her shoulder, but she wasnrsquo;t standing where he thought. He tried again, only to find she was several feet farther away. It was like trying to grab something in a tank of water, with the light shifting the image away.
ldquo;Percy!rdquo; Annabethrsquo;s voice cracked. ldquo;Why did you leave me?rdquo;
ldquo;I didnrsquo;t!rdquo; He turned on the arai, his arms shaking with anger. ldquo;What did you do to her?rdquo;
We did nothing, the demons said. Your beloved has unleashed a special cursemdash;a bitter thought from someone you abandoned. You punished an innocent soul by leaving her in her solitude. Now her most hateful wish has come to pass: Annabeth feels her despair. She, too, will perish alone and abandoned.
ldquo;Percy?rdquo; Annabeth spread her arms, trying to find him. The arai backed up, letting her stumble blindly through their ranks.
ldquo;Who did I abandon?rdquo; Percy demanded. ldquo;I nevermdash;rdquo;
Suddenly his stomach felt like it had dropped off the cliff.
The words rang in his head: An innocent soul. Alone and abandoned. He remembered an island, a cave lit with soft glowing crystals, a dinner table on the beach tended by invisible air spirits.
ldquo;She wouldnrsquo;t,rdquo; he mumbled. ldquo;Shersquo;d never curse me.rdquo;
The eyes of the demons blurred together like their voices. Percyrsquo;s sides throbbed. The pain in his chest was worse, as if someone were slowly twisting a dagger.
Annabeth wandered among the demons, desperately calling his name. Percy longed to run to her, but he knew the arai wouldnrsquo;t allow it. The only reason they hadnrsquo;t killed her yet was that they were enjoying her misery.
Percy clenched his jaw. He didnrsquo;t care how many curses he suffered. He had to keep these leathery old hags focused on him and protect Annabeth as long as he could.
He yelled in fury and attacked them all.
FOR ONE EXCITING MINUTE, Percy felt like he was winning. Riptide cut through the arai as though they were made of powdered sugar. One panicked and ran face-first into a tree. Another screeched and tried to fly away, but Percy sliced off her wings and sent her spiraling into the chasm.
Each time a demon disintegrated, Percy felt a heavier sense of dread as another curse settled on him. Some were harsh and painful: a stabbing in the gut, a burning sensation like he was being blasted by a blowtorch. Some were subtle: a chill in the blood, an uncontrollable tic in his right eye.
Seriously, who curses you with their dying breath and says: I hope your eye twitches!
Percy knew that hersquo;d killed a lot of monsters, but hersquo;d never really thought about it from the monstersrsquo; point of view. Now all their pain and anger and bitterness poured over him, sapping his strength.
The arai just kept coming. For every one he cut down, six more seemed to appear.
His sword arm grew tired. His body ached, and his vision blurred. He tried to make his way toward Annabeth, but she was just out of reach, calling his name as she wandered among the demons.
As Percy blundered toward her, a demon pounced and sank its teeth into his thigh. Percy roared. He sliced the demon to dust, but immediately fell to his knees.
His mouth burned worse than when he had swallowed the firewater of the Phlegethon. He doubled over, shuddering and retching, as a dozen fiery snakes seemed to work their way down his esophagus.
You have chosen, said the voice of the arai, the curse of Phineashellip;an excellent painful death.
Percy tried to speak. His tongue felt like it was being microwaved. He remembered the old blind king who had chased harpies through Portland with a WeedWacker. Percy had challenged him to a contest, and the loser had drunk a deadly vial of gorgonrsquo;s blood. Percy didnrsquo;t remember the old blind man muttering a final curse, but as Phineas dissolved and returned to the Underworld, he probably hadnrsquo;t wished Percy a long and happy life.
After Percyrsquo;s victory then, Gaea had warned him: Do not press your luck. When your death comes, I promise it will be much more painful than gorgonrsquo;s blood.
Now he was in Tartarus, dying from gorgonrsquo;s blood plus a dozen other agonizing curses, while he watched his girlfriend stumble around, helpless and blind and believing hersquo;d abandoned her. He clutched his sword. His knuckles started to steam. White smoke curled off his forearms.
I wonrsquo;t die like this, he thought.
Not only because it was painful and insultingly lame, but because Annabeth needed him. Once he was dead, the demons would turn their attention to her. He couldnrsquo;t leave her alone.
The arai clustered around him, snickering and hissing.
His head will erupt first, the voice speculated.
No, the voice answered itself from another direction. He will combust all at once.
They were placing bets on how he would diehellip;what sort of scorch mark he would leave on the ground.
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; he croaked. ldquo;I need you.rdquo;
A hopeless plea. He could barely hear himself. Why should Bob answer his call twice? The Titan knew the truth now. Percy was no friend.
He raised his eyes one last time. His surroundings seemed to flicker. The sky boiled and the ground blistered.
Percy realized that what he saw of Tartarus was only a watered-down version of its true horrormdash;only what his demigod brain could handle. The worst of it was veiled, the same way the Mist veiled monsters from mortal sight. Now as Percy died, he began to see the truth.
The air was the breath of Tartarus. All these monsters were just blood cells circulating through his body. Everything Percy saw was a dream in the mind of the dark god of the pit.
This must have been the way Nico had seen Tartarus, and it had almost destroyed his sanity. Nicohellip;one of the many people Percy hadnrsquo;t treated well enough. He and Annabeth had only made it this far through Tartarus because Nico di Angelo had behaved like Bobrsquo;s true friend.
You see the horror of the pit? the arai said soothingly. Give up, Percy Jackson. Isnrsquo;t death better than enduring this place?
ldquo;Irsquo;m sorry,rdquo; Percy murmured.
He apologizes! The arai shrieked with delight. He regrets his failed life, his crimes against the children of Tartarus!
ldquo;No,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Irsquo;m sorry, Bob. I shouldrsquo;ve been honest with you. Pleasehellip;forgive me. Protect Annabeth.rdquo;
He didnrsquo;t expect Bob to hear him or care, but it felt right to clear his conscience. He couldnrsquo;t blame anyone else for his troubles. Not the gods. Not Bob. He couldnrsquo;t even blame Calypso, the girl hersquo;d left alone on that island. Maybe shersquo;d turned bitter and cursed Percyrsquo;s girlfriend out of despair. Stillhellip;Percy should have followed up with Calypso, made sure the gods sprang her from her exile on Ogygia like theyrsquo;d promised. He hadnrsquo;t treated her any better than hersquo;d treated Bob. He hadnrsquo;t even thought much about her, though her moonlace plant still bloomed in his momrsquo;s window box.
It took all his remaining effort, but he got to his feet. Steam rose from his whole body. His legs shook. His insides churned like a volcano.
At least Percy could go out fighting. He raised Riptide.
But before he could strike, all the arai in front of him exploded into dust.
BOB SERIOUSLY KNEW HOW TO USE A BROOM.
He slashed back and forth, destroying the demons one after the other while Small Bob the kitten sat on his shoulder, arching his back and hissing.
In a matter of seconds, the arai were gone. Most had been vaporized. The smart ones had flown off into the darkness, shrieking in terror.
Percy wanted to thank the Titan, but his voice wouldnrsquo;t work. His legs buckled. His ears rang. Through a red glow of pain, he saw Annabeth a few yards away, wandering blindly toward the edge of the cliff.
ldquo;Uh!rdquo; Percy grunted.
Bob followed his gaze. He bounded toward Annabeth and scooped her up. She yelled and kicked, pummeling Bobrsquo;s gut, but Bob didnrsquo;t seem to care. He carried her over to Percy and put her down gently.
The Titan touched her forehead. ldquo;Owie.rdquo;
Annabeth stopped fighting. Her eyes cleared. ldquo;Wheremdash; whatmdash;?rdquo;
She saw Percy, and a series of expressions flashed across her facemdash;relief, joy, shock, horror. ldquo;Whatrsquo;s wrong with him?rdquo; she cried. ldquo;What happened?rdquo;
She cradled his shoulders and wept into his scalp.
Percy wanted to tell her it was okay, but of course it wasnrsquo;t. He couldnrsquo;t even feel his body anymore. His consciousness was like a small helium balloon, loosely tied to the top of his head. It had no weight, no strength. It just kept expanding, getting lighter and lighter. He knew that soon it would either burst or the string would break, and his life would float away.
Annabeth took his face in her hands. She kissed him and tried to wipe the dust and sweat from his eyes.
Bob loomed over them, his broom planted like a flag. His face was unreadable, luminously white in the dark.
ldquo;Lots of curses,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Percy has done bad things to monsters.rdquo;
ldquo;Can you fix him?rdquo; Annabeth pleaded. ldquo;Like you did with my blindness? Fix Percy!rdquo;
Bob frowned. He picked at the name tag on his uniform like it was a scab.
Annabeth tried again. ldquo;Bobmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Iapetus,rdquo; Bob said, his voice a low rumble. ldquo;Before Bob. It was Iapetus.rdquo;
The air was absolutely still. Percy felt helpless, barely connected to the world.
ldquo;I like Bob better.rdquo; Annabethrsquo;s voice was surprisingly calm. ldquo;Which do you like?rdquo;
The Titan regarded her with his pure silver eyes. ldquo;I do not know anymore.rdquo;
He crouched next to her and studied Percy. Bobrsquo;s face looked haggard and careworn, as if he suddenly felt the weight of all his centuries.
ldquo;I promised,rdquo; he murmured. ldquo;Nico asked me to help. I do not think Iapetus or Bob likes breaking promises.rdquo; He touched Percyrsquo;s forehead.
ldquo;Bob cannot cure this,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Too much poison. Too many curses piled up.rdquo;
Annabeth hugged Percyrsquo;s shoulders. He wanted to say: I can feel that now. Ow. Too tight.
ldquo;What can we do, Bob?rdquo; Annabeth asked. ldquo;Is there water anywhere? Water might heal him.rdquo;
ldquo;No water,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Tartarus is bad.rdquo;
I noticed, Percy wanted to yell.
At least the Titan called himself Bob. Even if he blamed Percy for taking his memory, maybe he would help Annabeth if Percy didnrsquo;t make it.
ldquo;No,rdquo; Annabeth insisted. ldquo;No, there has to be a way. Something to heal him.rdquo;
Bob placed his hand on Percyrsquo;s chest. A cold tingle like eucalyptus oil spread across his sternum, but as soon as Bob lifted his hand, the relief stopped. Percyrsquo;s lungs felt as hot as lava again.
ldquo;Tartarus kills demigods,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;It heals monsters, but you do not belong. Tartarus will not heal Percy. The pit hates your kind.rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t care,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Even here, there has to be someplace he can rest, some kind of cure he can take. Maybe back at the altar of Hermes, ormdash;rdquo;
In the distance, a deep voice bellowedmdash;a voice that Percy recognized, unfortunately.
ldquo;I SMELL HIM!rdquo; roared the giant. ldquo;BEWARE, SON OF POSEIDON! I COME FOR YOU!rdquo;
ldquo;Polybotes,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;He hates Poseidon and his children. He is very close now.rdquo;
Annabeth struggled to get Percy to his feet. He hated making her work so hard, but he felt like a sack of billiard balls. Even with Annabeth supporting almost all his weight, he could barely stand.
ldquo;Bob, Irsquo;m going on, with or without you,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Will you help?rdquo;
The kitten Small Bob mewed and began to purr, rubbing against Bobrsquo;s chin.
Bob looked at Percy, and Percy wished he could read the Titanrsquo;s expression. Was he angry, or just thoughtful? Was he planning revenge, or was he just feeling hurt because Percy had lied about being his friend?
ldquo;There is one place,rdquo; Bob said at last. ldquo;There is a giant who might know what to do.rdquo;
Annabeth almost dropped Percy. ldquo;A giant. Uh, Bob, giants are bad.rdquo;
ldquo;One is good,rdquo; Bob insisted. ldquo;Trust me, and I will take youhellip;unless Polybotes and the others catch us first.rdquo;
JASON FELL ASLEEP ON THE JOB. Which was bad, since he was a thousand feet in the air.
He should have known better. It was the morning after their encounter with Sciron the bandit, and Jason was on duty, fighting some wild venti who were threatening the ship. When he slashed through the last one, he forgot to hold his breath.
A stupid mistake. When a wind spirit disintegrates, it creates a vacuum. Unless yoursquo;re holding your breath, the air gets sucked right out of your lungs. The pressure in your inner ears drops so fast, you black out.
Thatrsquo;s what happened to Jason.
Even worse, he instantly plunged into a dream. In the back of his subconscious, he thought: Really? Now?
He needed to wake up, or he would die; but he wasnrsquo;t able to hold on to that thought. In the dream, he found himself on the roof of a tall building, the nighttime skyline of Manhattan spread around him. A cold wind whipped through his clothes.
A few blocks away, clouds gathered above the Empire State Buildingmdash;the entrance to Mount Olympus itself. Lightning flashed. The air was metallic with the smell of oncoming rain. The top of the skyscraper was lit up as usual, but the lights seemed to be malfunctioning. They flickered from purple to orange as if the colors were fighting for dominance.
On the roof of Jasonrsquo;s building stood his old comrades from Camp Jupiter: an array of demigods in combat armor, their Imperial gold weapons and shields glinting in the dark. He saw Dakota and Nathan, Leila and Marcus. Octavian stood to one side, thin and pale, his eyes red-rimmed from sleeplessness or anger, a string of sacrificial stuffed animals around his waist. His augurrsquo;s white robe was draped over a purple T-shirt and cargo pants.
In the center of the line stood Reyna, her metal dogs Aurum and Argentum at her side. Upon seeing her, Jason felt an incredible pang of guilt. Hersquo;d let her believe they had a future together. He had never been in love with her, and he hadnrsquo;t led her on, exactlyhellip;but he also hadnrsquo;t shut her down.
Hersquo;d disappeared, leaving her to run the camp on her own. (Okay, that hadnrsquo;t exactly been Jasonrsquo;s idea, but stillhellip Then he had returned to Camp Jupiter with his new girlfriend Piper and a whole bunch of Greek friends in a warship. Theyrsquo;d fired on the Forum and run away, leaving Reyna with a war on her hands.
In his dream she looked tired. Others might not notice, but hersquo;d worked with her long enough to recognize the weariness in her eyes, the tightness in her shoulders under the straps of her armor. Her dark hair was wet, like shersquo;d taken a hasty shower.
The Romans stared at the roof-access door as if they were waiting for someone.
When the door opened, two people emerged. One was a faunmdash;no, Jason thoughtmdash;a satyr. Hersquo;d learned the difference at Camp Half-Blood, and Coach Hedge was always correcting him if he made that mistake. Roman fauns tended to hang around and beg and eat. Satyrs were more helpful, more engaged with demigod affairs. Jason didnrsquo;t think hersquo;d seen this particular satyr before, but he was sure the guy was from the Greek side. No faun would look so purposeful walking up to an armed group of Romans in the middle of the night.
He wore a green Nature Conservancy T-shirt with pictures of endangered whales and tigers and stuff. Nothing covered his shaggy legs and hooves. He had a bushy goatee, curly brown hair tucked into a Rasta-style cap, and a set of reed pipes around his neck. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, but considering the way he studied the Romans, noting their positions and their weapons, Jason figured this satyr had been in combat before.
At his side was a redheaded girl Jason recognized from Camp Half-Bloodmdash;their oracle, Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She had long frizzy hair, a plain white blouse, and jeans covered with hand-drawn ink designs. She held a blue plastic hairbrush that she tapped nervously against her thigh like a good luck talisman.
Jason remembered her at the campfire, reciting lines of prophecy that sent Jason, Piper, and Leo on their first quest together. She was a regular mortal teenagermdash;not a demigodmdash;but for reasons Jason never understood, the spirit of Delphi had chosen her as its host.
The real question: What was she doing with the Romans?
She stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Reyna. ldquo;You got my message.rdquo;
Octavian snorted. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s the only reason you made it this far alive, Graecus. I hope yoursquo;ve come to discuss surrender terms.rdquo;
ldquo;Octavianhellip;rdquo; Reyna warned.
ldquo;At least search them!rdquo; Octavian protested.
ldquo;No need,rdquo; Reyna said, studying Rachel Dare. ldquo;Do you bring weapons?rdquo;
Rachel shrugged. ldquo;I hit Kronos in the eye with this hairbrush once. Otherwise, no.rdquo;
The Romans didnrsquo;t seem to know what to make of that. The mortal didnrsquo;t sound like she was kidding.
ldquo;And your friend?rdquo; Reyna nodded to the satyr. ldquo;I thought you were coming alone.rdquo;
ldquo;This is Grover Underwood,rdquo; Rachel said. ldquo;Hersquo;s a leader of the Council.rdquo;
ldquo;What council?rdquo; Octavian demanded.
ldquo;Cloven Elders, man.rdquo; Groverrsquo;s voice was high and reedy, as if he were terrified, but Jason suspected the satyr had more steel than he let on. ldquo;Seriously, donrsquo;t you Romans have nature and trees and stuff? Irsquo;ve got some news you need to hear. Plus, Irsquo;m a card-carrying protector. Irsquo;m here to, you know, protect Rachel.rdquo;
Reyna looked like she was trying not to smile. ldquo;But no weapons?rdquo;
ldquo;Just the pipes.rdquo; Groverrsquo;s expression became wistful. ldquo;Percy always said my cover of lsquo;Born to be Wildrsquo; should count as a dangerous weapon, but I donrsquo;t think itrsquo;s that bad.rdquo;
Octavian sneered. ldquo;Another friend of Percy Jackson. Thatrsquo;s all I need to hear.rdquo;
Reyna held up her hand for silence. Her gold and silver dogs sniffed the air, but they remained calm and attentive at her side.
ldquo;So far, our guests speak the truth,rdquo; Reyna said. ldquo;Be warned, Rachel and Grover, if you start to lie, this conversation will not go well for you. Say what you came to say.rdquo;
From her jeans pocket, Rachel dug out a piece of paper like a napkin. ldquo;A message. From Annabeth.rdquo;
Jason wasnrsquo;t sure hersquo;d heard her right. Annabeth was in Tartarus. She couldnrsquo;t send anyone a note on a napkin.
Maybe Irsquo;ve hit the water and died, his subconscious said. This isnrsquo;t a real vision. Itrsquo;s some sort of after-death hallucination.
But the dream seemed very real. He could feel the wind sweeping across the roof. He could smell the storm. Lightning flickered over the Empire State Building, making the Romansrsquo; armor flash.
Reyna took the note. As she read it, her eyebrows crept higher. Her mouth parted in shock. Finally, she looked up at Rachel. ldquo;Is this a joke?rdquo;
ldquo;I wish,rdquo; Rachel said. ldquo;Theyrsquo;re really in Tartarus.rdquo;
ldquo;But howmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t know,rdquo; Rachel said. ldquo;The note appeared in the sacrificial fire at our dining pavilion. Thatrsquo;s Annabethrsquo;s handwriting. She asks for you by name.rdquo;
Octavian stirred. ldquo;Tartarus? What do you mean?rdquo;
Reyna handed him the letter.
Octavian muttered as he read: ldquo;Rome, Arachne, Athenamdash;Athena Parthenos?rdquo; He looked around in outrage, as if waiting for someone to contradict what he was reading. ldquo;A Greek trick! Greeks are infamous for their tricks!rdquo;
Reyna took back the note. ldquo;Why ask this of me?rdquo;
Rachel smiled. ldquo;Because Annabeth is wise. She believes you can do this, Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano.rdquo;
Jason felt like hersquo;d been slapped. Nobody ever used Reynarsquo;s full name. She hated telling anyone what it was. The only time Jason had ever said it aloud, just trying to pronounce it correctly, shersquo;d given him a murderous look. That was the name of a little girl in San Juan, she told him. I left it behind when I left Puerto Rico.
Reyna scowled. ldquo;How did youmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Uh,rdquo; Grover Underwood interrupted. ldquo;You mean your initials are RA-RA?rdquo;
Reynarsquo;s hand drifted toward her dagger.
ldquo;But thatrsquo;s not important!rdquo; the satyr said quickly. ldquo;Look, we wouldnrsquo;t have risked coming here if we didnrsquo;t trust Annabethrsquo;s instincts. A Roman leader returning the most important Greek statue to Camp Half-Bloodmdash;she knows that could prevent a war.rdquo;
ldquo;This isnrsquo;t a trick,rdquo; Rachel added. ldquo;Wersquo;re not lying. Ask your dogs.rdquo;
The metallic greyhounds didnrsquo;t react. Reyna stroked Aurumrsquo;s head thoughtfully. ldquo;The Athena Parthenoshellip;so the legend is tru
The other Romans muttered, glaring at their visitors. Jason remembered how persuasive Octavian could be, and he was winning the officers to his side.
Rachel Dare faced the augur. ldquo;Octavian, son of Apollo, you should take this more seriously. Even Romans respected your fatherrsquo;s Oracle of Delphi.rdquo;
ldquo;Ha!rdquo; Octavian said. ldquo;Yoursquo;re the Oracle of Delphi? Right. And Irsquo;m the Emperor Nero!rdquo;
ldquo;At least Nero could play music,rdquo; Grover muttered.
Octavian balled his fists.
Suddenly the wind shifted. It swirled around the Romans with a hissing sound, like a nest of snakes. Rachel Dare glowed in a green aura, as if hit by a soft emerald spotlight. Then the wind faded and the aura was gone.
The sneer melted from Octavianrsquo;s face. The Romans rustled uneasily.
ldquo;Itrsquo;s your decision,rdquo; Rachel said, as if nothing had happened. ldquo;I have no specific prophecy to offer you, but I can see glimpses of the future. I see the Athena Parthenos on Half-Blood Hill. I see her bringing it.rdquo; She pointed at Reyna. ldquo;Also, Ella has been murmuring lines from your Sibylline Booksmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo; Reyna interrupted. ldquo;The Sibylline Books were destroyed centuries ago.rdquo;
ldquo;I knew it!rdquo; Octavian pounded his fist into his palm. ldquo;That harpy they brought back from the questmdash;Ella. I knew she was spouting prophecies! Now I understand. Shemdash;she somehow memorized a copy of the Sibylline Books.rdquo;
Reyna shook her head in disbelief. ldquo;How is that possible?rdquo;
ldquo;We donrsquo;t know,rdquo; Rachel admitted. ldquo;But, yes, that seems to be the case. Ella has a perfect memory. She loves books. Somewhere, somehow, she read your Roman book of prophecies. Now shersquo;s the only source for them.rdquo;
ldquo;Your friends lied,rdquo; Octavian said. ldquo;They told us the harpy was just muttering gibberish. They stole her!rdquo;
Grover huffed indignantly. ldquo;Ella isnrsquo;t your property! Shersquo;s a free creature. Besides, she wants to be at Camp Half-Blood. Shersquo;s dating one of my friends, Tyson.rdquo;
ldquo;The Cyclops,rdquo; Reyna remembered. ldquo;A harpy dating a Cyclopshellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s not relevant!rdquo; Octavian said. ldquo;The harpy has valuable Roman prophecies. If the Greeks wonrsquo;t return her, we should take their Oracle hostage! Guards!rdquo;
Two centurions advanced, their pila leveled. Grover brought his pipes to his lips, played a quick jig, and their spears turned into Christmas trees. The guards dropped them in surprise.
ldquo;Enough!rdquo; Reyna shouted.
She didnrsquo;t often raise her voice. When she did, everyone listened.
ldquo;Wersquo;ve strayed from the point,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Rachel Dare, yoursquo;re telling me Annabeth is in Tartarus, yet shersquo;s found a way to send this message. She wants me to bring this statue from the ancient lands to your camp.rdquo;
Rachel nodded. ldquo;Only a Roman can return it and restore peace.rdquo;
ldquo;And why would the Romans want peace,rdquo; Reyna asked, ldquo;after your ship attacked our city?rdquo;
ldquo;You know why,rdquo; Rachel said. ldquo;To avoid this war. To reconcile the godsrsquo; Greek and Roman sides. We have to work together to defeat Gaea.rdquo;
Octavian stepped forward to speak, but Reyna shot him a withering look.
ldquo;According to Percy Jackson,rdquo; Reyna said, ldquo;the battle with Gaea will be fought in the ancient lands. In Greece.rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s where the giants are,rdquo; Rachel agreed. ldquo;Whatever magic, whatever ritual the giants are planning to wake the Earth Mother, I sense it will happen in Greece. Buthellip;well, our problems arenrsquo;t limited to the ancient lands. Thatrsquo;s why I brought Grover to talk to you.rdquo;
The satyr tugged his goatee. ldquo;Yeahhellip;see, over the last few months, Irsquo;ve been talking to satyrs and nature spirits across the continent. Theyrsquo;re all saying the same thing. Gaea is stirringmdash;I mean, shersquo;s right on the edge of consciousness. Shersquo;s whispering in the minds of naiads, trying to turn them. Shersquo;s causing earthquakes, uprooting the dryadsrsquo; trees. Last week alone, she appeared in human form in a dozen different places, scaring the horns off some of my friends. In Colorado, a giant stone fist rose out of a mountain and swatted some Party Ponies like flies.rdquo;
Reyna frowned. ldquo;Party Ponies?rdquo;
ldquo;Long story,rdquo; Rachel said. ldquo;The point is: Gaea will rise everywhere. Shersquo;s already stirring. No place will be safe from the battle. And we know that her first targets are going to be the demigod camps. She wants us destroyed.rdquo;
ldquo;Speculation,rdquo; Octavian said. ldquo;A distraction. The Greeks fear our attack. Theyrsquo;re trying to confuse us. Itrsquo;s the Trojan Horse all over again!rdquo;
Reyna twisted the silver ring she always wore, with the sword and torch symbols of her mother, Bellona.
ldquo;Marcus,rdquo; she said, ldquo;bring Scipio from the stables.rdquo;
ldquo;Reyna, no!rdquo; Octavian protested.
She faced the Greeks. ldquo;I will do this for Annabeth, for the hope of peace between our camps, but do not think I have forgotten the insults to Camp Jupiter. Your ship fired on our city. You declared warmdash;not us. Now, leave.rdquo;
Grover stamped his hoof. ldquo;Percy would nevermdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Grover,rdquo; Rachel said, ldquo;we should go.rdquo;
Her tone said: Before itrsquo;s too late.
After they had retreated back down the stairs, Octavian wheeled on Reyna. ldquo;Are you mad?rdquo;
ldquo;I am praetor of the legion,rdquo; Reyna said. ldquo;I judge this to be in the best interest of Rome.rdquo;
ldquo;To get yourself killed? To break our oldest laws and travel to the ancient lands? How will you even find their ship, assuming you survive the journey?rdquo;
ldquo;I will find them,rdquo; Reyna said. ldquo;If they are sailing for Greece, I know a place Jason will stop. To face the ghosts in the House of Hades, he will need an army. There is only one place where he can find that sort of help.rdquo;
In Jasonrsquo;s dream, the building seemed to tilt under his feet. He remembered a conversation hersquo;d had with Reyna years ago, a promise they had made to each other. He knew what she was talking about.
ldquo;This is insanity,rdquo; Octavian muttered. ldquo;Wersquo;re already under attack. We must take the offensive! Those hairy dwarfs have been stealing our supplies, sabotaging our scouting partiesmdash;you know the Greeks sent them.rdquo;
ldquo;Perhaps,rdquo; Reyna said. ldquo;But you will not launch an attack without my orders. Continue scouting the enemy camp. Secure your positions. Gather all the allies you can, and if you catch those dwarfs, you have my blessing to send them back to Tartarus. But do not attack Camp Half-Blood until I return.rdquo;
Octavian narrowed his eyes. ldquo;While yoursquo;re gone, the augur is the senior officer. I will be in charge.rdquo;
ldquo;I know.rdquo; Reyna didnrsquo;t sound happy about it. ldquo;But you have my orders. You all heard them.rdquo; She scanned the faces of the centurions, daring them to question her.
She stormed off, her purple cloak billowing and her dogs at her heels.
Once she was gone, Octavian turned to the centurions. ldquo;Gather all the senior officers. I want a meeting as soon as Reyna has left on her foolrsquo;s quest. There will be a few changes in the legionrsquo;s plans.rdquo;
One of the centurions opened his mouth to respond, but for some reason he spoke in Piperrsquo;s voice: ldquo;WAKE UP!rdquo;
Jasonrsquo;s eyes snapped open, and he saw the oceanrsquo;s surface hurtling toward him.
JASON SURVIVEDmdash;BARELY.
Later, his friends explained that they hadnrsquo;t seen him falling from the sky until the last second. There was no time for Frank to turn into an eagle and catch him; no time to formulate a rescue plan.
Only Piperrsquo;s quick thinking and charmspeak had saved his life. Shersquo;d yelled WAKE UP! with so much force that Jason felt like hersquo;d been hit with defibrillator paddles. With a millisecond to spare, hersquo;d summoned the winds and avoided becoming a floating patch of demigod grease on the surface of the Adriatic.
Back on board, he had pulled Leo aside and suggested a course correction. Fortunately, Leo trusted him enough not to ask why.
ldquo;Weird vacation spot.rdquo; Leo grinned. ldquo;But, hey, yoursquo;re the boss!rdquo;
Now, sitting with his friends in the mess hall, Jason felt so awake, he doubted he would sleep for a week. His hands were jittery. He couldnrsquo;t stop tapping his feet. He guessed that this was how Leo felt all the time, except that Leo had a sense of humor.
After what Jason had seen in his dream, he didnrsquo;t feel much like joking.
While they ate lunch, Jason reported on his midair vision. His friends were quiet long enough for Coach Hedge to finish a peanut butter and banana sandwich, along with the ceramic plate.
The ship creaked as it sailed through the Adriatic, its remaining oars still out of alignment from the giant turtle attack. Every once in a while Festus the figurehead creaked and squeaked through the speakers, reporting the autopilot status in that weird machine language that only Leo could understand.
ldquo;A note from Annabeth.rdquo; Piper shook her head in amazement. ldquo;I donrsquo;t see how thatrsquo;s possible, but if it ismdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Shersquo;s alive,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Thank the gods and pass the hot sauce.rdquo;
Frank frowned. ldquo;What does that mean?rdquo;
Leo wiped the chip crumbs off his face. ldquo;It means pass the hot sauce, Zhang. Irsquo;m still hungry.rdquo;
Frank slid over a jar of salsa. ldquo;I canrsquo;t believe Reyna would try to find us. Itrsquo;s taboo, coming to the ancient lands. Shersquo;ll be stripped of her praetorship.rdquo;
ldquo;If she lives,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;It was hard enough for us to make it this far with seven demigods and a warship.rdquo;
ldquo;And me.rdquo; Coach Hedge belched. ldquo;Donrsquo;t forget, cupcake, you got the satyr advantage.rdquo;
Jason had to smile. Coach Hedge could be pretty ridiculous, but Jason was glad hersquo;d come along. He thought about the satyr hersquo;d seen in his dreammdash;Grover Underwood. He couldnrsquo;t imagine a satyr more different from Coach Hedge, but they both seemed brave in their own way.
It made Jason wonder about the fauns back at Camp Jupitermdash;whether they could be like that if the Roman demigods expected more from them. Another thing to add to his list.hellip;
His list. He hadnrsquo;t realized that he had one until that moment, but ever since leaving Camp Half-Blood, hersquo;d been thinking of ways to make Camp Jupiter morehellip;Greek.
He had grown up at Camp Jupiter. Hersquo;d done well there. But he had always been a little unconventional. He chafed under the rules.
He had joined the Fifth Cohort because everyone told him not to. They warned him it was the worst unit. So hersquo;d thought, Fine, Irsquo;ll make it the best.
Once he became praetor, hersquo;d campaigned to rename the legion the First Legion rather than the Twelfth Legion, to symbolize a new start for Rome. The idea had almost caused a mutiny. New R
So why did the idea fill him with dread? He felt guilty about leaving Reyna to rule without him, but stillhellip;part of him wanted to go back to Camp Half-Blood with Piper and Leo. He guessed that that made him a pretty terrible leader.
ldquo;Jason?rdquo; Leo asked. ldquo;Argo II to Jason. Come in.rdquo;
He realized his friends were looking at him expectantly. They needed reassurance. Whether or not he made it back to New Rome after the war, Jason had to step up now and act like a praetor.
ldquo;Yeah, sorry.rdquo; He touched the groove that Sciron the bandit had cut in his hair. ldquo;Crossing the Atlantic is a hard journey, no doubt. But Irsquo;d never bet against Reyna. If anyone can make it, she will.rdquo;
Piper circled her spoon through her soup. Jason was still a little nervous about her getting jealous of Reyna, but when she looked up, she gave him a dry smile that seemed more teasing than insecure.
ldquo;Well, Irsquo;d love to see Reyna again,rdquo; she said. ldquo;But how is she supposed to find us?rdquo;
Frank raised his hand. ldquo;Canrsquo;t you just send her an Iris-message?rdquo;
ldquo;Theyrsquo;re not working very well,rdquo; Coach Hedge put in. ldquo;Horrible reception. Every night, I swear, I could kick that rainbow goddess.hellip;rdquo;
He faltered. His face turned bright red.
ldquo;Coach?rdquo; Leo grinned. ldquo;Who have you been calling every night, you old goat?rdquo;
ldquo;No one!rdquo; Hedge snapped. ldquo;Nothing! I just meantmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;He means wersquo;ve already tried,rdquo; Hazel intervened, and the coach gave her a grateful look. ldquo;Some magic is interferinghellip;maybe Gaea. Contacting the Romans is even harder. I think theyrsquo;re shielding themselves.rdquo;
Jason looked from Hazel to the coach, wondering what was going on with the satyr, and how Hazel knew about it. Now that Jason thought about it, the coach hadnrsquo;t mentioned his cloud nymph girlfriend Mellie in a long time.hellip;
Frank drummed his fingers on the table. ldquo;I donrsquo;t suppose Reyna has a cell phonehellip;? Nah. Never mind. Shersquo;d probably have bad reception on a pegasus flying over the Atlantic.rdquo;
Jason thought about the Argo IIrsquo;s journey across the ocean, the dozens of encounters that had nearly killed them. Thinking about Reyna making that journey alonemdash;he couldnrsquo;t decide whether it was terrifying or awe-inspiring.
ldquo;Shersquo;ll find us,rdquo; he said. ldquo;She mentioned something in the dreammdash;shersquo;s expecting me to go to a certain place on our way to the House of Hades. Imdash;Irsquo;d forgotten about it, actually, but shersquo;s right. Itrsquo;s a place I need to visit.rdquo;
Piper leaned toward him, her caramel braid falling over her shoulder. Her multicolored eyes made it hard for him to think straight.
ldquo;And where is this place?rdquo; she asked.
ldquo;Ahellip;uh, a town called Split.rdquo;
ldquo;Split.rdquo; She smelled really goodmdash;like blooming honeysuckle.
ldquo;Um, yeah.rdquo; Jason wondered if Piper was working some sort of Aphrodite magic on himmdash;like maybe every time he mentioned Reynarsquo;s name, she would befuddle him so much he couldnrsquo;t think about anything but Piper. He supposed it wasnrsquo;t the worst sort of revenge. ldquo;In fact, we should be getting close. Leo?rdquo;
Leo punched the intercom button. ldquo;Howrsquo;s it going up there, buddy?rdquo;
Festus the figurehead creaked and steamed.
ldquo;He says maybe ten minutes to the harbor,rdquo; Leo reported. ldquo;Though I still donrsquo;t get why you want to go to Croatia, especially a town called Split. I mean, you name your city Split, you gotta figure itrsquo;s a warning to, you know, split. Kind of like naming your city Get Out!rdquo;
ldquo;Wait,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Why are we going to Croatia?rdquo;
Jason noticed that the others were reluctant to meet her eyes. Since her trick with the Mist against Sciron the bandit, even Jason felt a little nervous around her. He knew that wasnrsquo;t fair to Hazel. It was hard enough being a child of Pluto, but shersquo;d pulled off some serious magic on that cliff. And afterward, according to Hazel, Pluto himself had appeared to her. That was something Romans typically called a bad omen.
Leo pushed his chips and hot sauce aside. ldquo;Well, technically wersquo;ve been in Croatian territory for the past day or so. All that coastline wersquo;ve been sailing past is it, but I guess back in the Roman times it was calledhellip;whatrsquo;d you say, Jason? Bodacious?rdquo;
ldquo;Dalmatia,rdquo; Nico said, making Jason jump.
Holy Romulushellip; Jason wished he could put a bell around Nico di Angelorsquo;s neck to remind him the guy was there. Nico had this disturbing habit of standing silently in the corner, blending into the shadows.
He stepped forward, his dark eyes fixed on Jason. Since theyrsquo;d rescued him from the bronze jar in Rome, Nico had slept very little and eaten even less, as if he were still subsisting on those emergency pomegranate seeds from the Underworld. He reminded Jason a little too much of a flesh-eating ghoul hersquo;d once fought in San Bernardino.
ldquo;Croatia used to be Dalmatia,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;A major Roman province. You want to visit Diocletianrsquo;s Palace, donrsquo;t you?rdquo;
Coach Hedge managed another heroic belch. ldquo;Whose palace? And is Dalmatia where those Dalmatian dogs come from? That 101 Dalmatians moviemdash;I still have nightmares.rdquo;
Frank scratched his head. ldquo;Why would you have nightmares about that?rdquo;
Coach Hedge looked like he was about to launch into a major speech about the evils of cartoon Dalmatians, but Jason decided he didnrsquo;t want to know.
ldquo;Nico is right,rdquo; he said. ldquo;I need to go to Diocletianrsquo;s Palace. Itrsquo;s where Reyna will go first, because she knows I would go there.rdquo;
Piper raised an eyebrow. ldquo;And why would Reyna think that? Because yoursquo;ve always had a mad fascination with Croatian culture?rdquo;
Jason stared at his uneaten sandwich. It was hard to talk about his life before Juno wiped his memory. His years at Camp Jupiter seemed made up, like a movie hersquo;d acted in decades before.
ldquo;Reyna and I used to talk about Diocletian,rdquo; he said. ldquo;We both kind of idolized the guy as a leader. We talked about how wersquo;d like to visit Diocletianrsquo;s Palace. Of course we knew that was impossible. No one could travel to the ancient lands. But still, we made this pact that if we ever did, thatrsquo;s where wersquo;d go.rdquo;
ldquo;Diocletianhellip;rdquo; Leo considered the name, then shook his head. ldquo;I got nothing. Why was he so important?rdquo;
Frank looked offended. ldquo;He was the last great pagan emperor!rdquo;
Leo rolled his eyes. ldquo;Why am I not surprised you know that, Zhang?rdquo;
ldquo;Why wouldnrsquo;t I? He was the last one who worshipped the Olympian gods, before Constantine came along and adopted Christianity.rdquo;
Hazel nodded. ldquo;I remember something about that. The nuns at St. Agnes taught us that Diocletian was a huge villain, right along with Nero and Caligula.rdquo; She looked askance at Jason. ldquo;Why would you idolize him?rdquo;
ldquo;He wasnrsquo;t a total villain,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Yeah, he persecuted Christians, but otherwise he was a good ruler. He worked his way up from nothing by joining the legion. His parents were former slaveshellip;or at least his mom was. Demigods know he was a son of Jupitermdash;the last demigod to rule Rome. He was also the first emperor ever to retire, like, peacefully, and give up his power. He was from Dalmatia, so he moved back there and built a retirement palace. The town of Split grew up aroundhellip;rdquo;
He faltered when he looked at Leo, who was mimicking taking notes with an air pencil.
ldquo;Go on, Professor Grace!rdquo; he said, wide-eyed. ldquo;I wanna get an A on the test.rdquo;
ldquo;Shut up, Leo.rdquo;
Piper sipped another spoonful of soup. ldquo;So why is Diocletianrsquo;s Palace so special?rdquo;
Nico leaned over and plucked a grape. Probably that was the guyrsquo;s entire diet for the day. ldquo;Itrsquo;s said to be haunted by the ghost of Diocletian.rdquo;
ldquo;Who was a son of Jupiter, like me,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;His tomb was destroyed centuries ago, but Reyna and I used to wonder if we could find Diocletianrsquo;s ghost and ask where he was buriedhellip;well, according to the legends, his scepter was buried with him.rdquo;
Nico gave him a thin, creepy smile. ldquo;Ahhellip;that legend.rdquo;
ldquo;What legend?rdquo; Hazel asked.
Nico turned to his sister. ldquo;Supposedly Diocletianrsquo;s scepter could summon the ghosts of the Roman legions, any of them who worshipped the old gods.rdquo;
Leo whistled. ldquo;Okay, now Irsquo;m interested. Be nice to have a booty-kicking army of pagan zombies on our side when we enter the House of Hades.rdquo;
ldquo;Not sure I wouldrsquo;ve put it that way,rdquo; Jason muttered, ldquo;but yeah.rdquo;
ldquo;We donrsquo;t have much time,rdquo; Frank warned. ldquo;Itrsquo;s already July ninth. We have to get to Epirus, close the Doors of Deathmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Which are guarded,rdquo; Hazel murmured, ldquo;by a smoky giant and a sorceress who wantshellip;rdquo; She hesitated. ldquo;Well, Irsquo;m not sure. But according to Pluto, she plans to lsquo;rebuild her domain.rsquo; Whatever that means, itrsquo;s bad enough that my dad felt like warning me personally.rdquo;
Frank grunted. ldquo;And if we survive all that, we still have to find out where the giants are waking Gaea and get there before the first of August. Besides, the longer Percy and Annabeth are in Tartarusmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I know,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;We wonrsquo;t take long in Split. But looking for the scepter is worth a try. While wersquo;re at the palace, I can leave a message for Reyna, letting her know the route wersquo;re taking for Epirus.rdquo;
Nico nodded. ldquo;The scepter of Diocletian could make a huge difference. Yoursquo;ll need my help.rdquo;
Jason tried not to show his discomfort, but his skin prickled at the thought of going anywhere with Nico di Angelo.
Percy had shared some disturbing stories about Nico. His loyalties werenrsquo;t always clear. He spent more time with the dead than the living. Once, hersquo;d lured Percy into a trap in the palace of Hades. Maybe Nico had made up for that by helping the Greeks against the Titans, but stillhellip;
Piper squeezed his hand. ldquo;Hey, sounds fun. Irsquo;ll go, too.rdquo;
Jason wanted to yell: Thank the gods!
But Nico shook his head. ldquo;You canrsquo;t, Piper. It should only be Jason and me. Diocletianrsquo;s ghost might appear for a son of Jupiter, but any other demigods would most likelyhellip;ah, spook him. And Irsquo;m the only one who can talk to his spirit. Even Hazel wonrsquo;t be able to do that.rdquo;
Nicorsquo;s eyes held a gleam of challenge. He seemed curious as to whether or not Jason would protest.
The shiprsquo;s bell sounded. Festus creaked and whirred over the loudspeaker.
ldquo;Wersquo;ve arrived,rdquo; Leo announced. ldquo;Time to Split.rdquo;
Frank groaned. ldquo;Can we leave Valdez in Croatia?rdquo;
The Argo II had anchored in the bay along with six or seven cruise ships. As usual, the mortals didnrsquo;t pay the trireme any attention; but just to be safe, Jason and Nico hopped on a skiff from one of the tourist boats so they would look like part of the crowd when they came ashore.
At first glance, Split seemed like a cool place. Curving around the harbor was a long esplanade lined with palm trees. At the sidewalk cafés, European teenagers were hanging out, speaking a dozen different languages and enjoying the sunny afternoon. The air smelled of grilled meat and fresh-cut flowers.
Beyond the main boulevard, the city was a hodgepodge of medieval castle towers, Roman walls, limestone town houses with red-tiled roofs, and modern office buildings all crammed together. In the distance, gray-green hills marched toward a mountain ridge, which made Jason a little nervous. He kept glancing at that rocky escarpment, expecting the face of Gaea to appear in its shadows.
Nico and he were wandering along the esplanade when Jason spotted the guy with wings buying an ice cream bar from a street cart. The vendor lady looked bored as she counted the guyrsquo;s change. Tourists navigated around the angelrsquo;s huge wings without a second glance.
Jason nudged Nico. ldquo;Are you seeing this?rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Nico agreed. ldquo;Maybe we should buy some ice cream.rdquo;
As they made their way toward the street cart, Jason worried that this winged dude might be a son of Boreas the North Wind. At his side, the angel carried the same kind of jagged bronze sword the Boreads had, and Jasonrsquo;s last encounter with them hadnrsquo;t gone so well.
But this guy seemed more chill than chilly. He wore a red tank top, Bermuda shorts, and huarache sandals. His wings were a combination of russet colors, like a bantam rooster or a lazy sunset. He had a deep tan and black hair almost as curly as Leorsquo;s.
ldquo;Hersquo;s not a returned spirit,rdquo; Nico murmured. ldquo;Or a creature of the Underworld.rdquo;
ldquo;No,rdquo; Jason agreed. ldquo;I doubt they would eat chocolate-covered ice cream bars.rdquo;
ldquo;So what is he?rdquo; Nico wondered.
They got within thirty feet, and the winged dude looked directly at them. He smiled, gestured over his shoulder with his ice cream bar, and dissolved into the air.
Jason couldnrsquo;t exactly see him, but hersquo;d had enough experience controlling the wind that he could track the angelrsquo;s pathmdash;a warm wisp of red and gold zipping across the street, spiraling down the sidewalk, and blowing postcards from the carousels in front of the tourist shops. The wind headed toward the end of the promenade, where a big fortresslike structure loomed.
ldquo;Irsquo;m betting thatrsquo;s the palace,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Come on.rdquo;
Even after two millennia, Diocletianrsquo;s Palace was still impressive. The outer wall was only a pink granite shell, with crumbling columns and arched windows open to the sky, but it was mostly intact, a quarter mile long and seventy or eighty feet tall, dwarfing the modern shops and houses that huddled beneath it. Jason imagined what the palace must have looked like when it was newly built, with Imperial guards walking the ramparts and the golden eagles of Rome glinting on the parapets.
The wind angelmdash;or whatever he wasmdash;whisked in and out of the pink granite windows, then disappeared on the other side. Jason scanned the palacersquo;s facade for an entrance. The only one he saw was several blocks away, with tourists lined up to buy tickets. No time for that.
ldquo;Wersquo;ve got to catch him,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Hold on.rdquo;
ldquo;Butmdash;rdquo;
Jason grabbed Nico and lifted them both into the air.
Nico made a muffled sound of protest as they soared over the walls and into a courtyard where more tourists were milling around, taking pictures.
A little kid did a double take when they landed. Then his eyes glazed over and he shook his head, like he was dismissing a juice-box-induced hallucination. No one else paid them any attention.
On the left side of the courtyard stood a line of columns holding up weathered gray arches. On the right side was a white marble building with rows of tall windows.
ldquo;The peristyle,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;This was the entrance to Diocletianrsquo;s private residence.rdquo; He scowled at Jason. ldquo;And please, I donrsquo;t like being touched. Donrsquo;t ever grab me again.rdquo;
Jasonrsquo;s shoulder blades tensed. He thought he heard the undertone of a threat, like: unless you want to get a Stygian sword up your nose. ldquo;Uh, okay. Sorry. How do you know what this place is called?rdquo;
Nico scanned the atrium. He focused on some steps in the far corner, leading down.
ldquo;Irsquo;ve been here before.rdquo; His eyes were as dark as his blade. ldquo;With my mother and Bianca. A weekend trip from Venice. I was maybehellip;six?rdquo;
ldquo;That was whenhellip;the 1930s?rdquo;
ldquo;rsquo;Thirty-eight or so,rdquo; Nico said absently. ldquo;Why do you care? Do you see that winged guy anywhere?rdquo;
ldquo;Nohellip;rdquo; Jason was still trying to wrap his mind around Nicorsquo;s past.
Jason always tried to build a good relationship with the people on his team. Hersquo;d learned the hard way that if somebody was going to have your back in a fight, it was better if you found some common ground and trusted each other. But Nico wasnrsquo;t easy to figure out. ldquo;I justhellip;I canrsquo;t imagine how weird that must be, coming from another time.rdquo;
ldquo;No, you canrsquo;t.rdquo; Nico stared at the stone floor. He took a deep breath.
ldquo;Lookhellip;I donrsquo;t like talking about it. Honestly, I think Hazel has it worse. She remembers more about when she was young. She had to come back from the dead and adjust to the modern world. Mehellip;me and Bianca, we were stuck at the Lotus Hotel. Time passed so quickly. In a weird way, that made the transition easier.rdquo;
ldquo;Percy told me about that place,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Seventy years, but it only felt like a month?rdquo;
Nico clenched his fist until his fingers turned white. ldquo;Yeah. Irsquo;m sure Percy told you all about me.rdquo;
His voice was heavy with bitternessmdash;more than Jason could understand. He knew that Nico had blamed Percy for getting his sister Bianca killed, but theyrsquo;d supposedly gotten past that, at least according to Percy. Piper had also mentioned a rumor that Nico had a crush on Annabeth. Maybe that was part of it.
Stillhellip; Jason didnrsquo;t get why Nico pushed people away, why he never spent much time at either camp, why he preferred the dead to the living. He really didnrsquo;t get why Nico had promised to lead the Argo II to Epirus if he hated Percy Jackson so much.
Nicorsquo;s eyes swept the windows above them. ldquo;Roman dead are everywhere herehellip; Lares. Lemures. Theyrsquo;re watching. Theyrsquo;re angry.rdquo;
ldquo;At us?rdquo; Jasonrsquo;s hand went to his sword.
ldquo;At everything.rdquo; Nico pointed to a small stone building on the west end of the courtyard. ldquo;That used to be a temple to Jupiter. The Christians changed it to a baptistery. The Roman ghosts donrsquo;t like that.rdquo;
Jason stared at the dark doorway.
Hersquo;d never met Jupiter, but he thought of his father as a living personmdash;the guy whorsquo;d fallen in love with his mom. Of course he knew his dad was immortal, but somehow the full meaning of that had never really sunk in until now, as he stared at a doorway Romans had walked through, thousands of years ago, to worship his dad. The idea gave Jason a splitting headache.
ldquo;And over therehellip;rdquo; Nico pointed east to a hexagonal building ringed with freestanding columns. ldquo;That was the mausoleum of the emperor.rdquo;
ldquo;But his tomb isnrsquo;t there anymore,rdquo; Jason guessed.
ldquo;Not for centuries,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;When the empire collapsed, the building was turned into a Christian cathedral.rdquo;
Jason swallowed. ldquo;So if Diocletianrsquo;s ghost is still around heremdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Hersquo;s probably not happy.rdquo;
The wind rustled, pushing leaves and food wrappers across the peristyle. In the corner of his eye, Jason caught a glimpse of movementmdash;a blur of red and gold.
When he turned, a single rust-colored feather was settling on the steps that led down.
ldquo;That way.rdquo; Jason pointed. ldquo;The winged guy. Where do you think those stairs lead?rdquo;
Nico drew his sword. His smile was even more unsettling than his scowl. ldquo;Underground,rdquo; he said. ldquo;My favorite place.rdquo;
Underground was not Jasonrsquo;s favorite place.
Ever since his trip beneath Rome with Piper and Percy, fighting those twin giants in the hypogeum under the Colosseum, most of his nightmares were about basements, trapdoors, and large hamster wheels.
Having Nico along was not reassuring. His Stygian iron blade seemed to make the shadows even gloomier, as if the infernal metal was drawing the light and heat out of the air.
They crept through a vast cellar with thick support columns holding up a vaulted ceiling. The limestone blocks were so old, they had fused together from centuries of moisture, making the place look almost like a naturally formed cave.
None of the tourists had ventured down here. Obviously, they were smarter than demigods.
Jason drew his gladius. They made their way under the low archways, their steps echoing on the stone floor. Barred windows lined the top of one wall, facing the street level, but that just made the cellar feel more claustrophobic. The shafts of sunlight looked like slanted prison bars, swirling with ancient dust.
Jason passed a support beam, looked to his left, and almost had a heart attack. Staring right at him was a marble bust of Diocletian, his limestone face glowering with disapproval.
Jason steadied his breathing. This seemed like a good place to leave the note hersquo;d written for Reyna, telling her of their route to Epirus. It was away from the crowds, but he trusted Reyna would find it. She had the instincts of a hunter. He slipped the note between the bust and its pedestal, and stepped back.
Diocletianrsquo;s marble eyes made him jumpy. Jason couldnrsquo;t help thinking of Terminus, the talking statue-god back at New Rome. He hoped Diocletian didnrsquo;t bark at him or suddenly burst into song.
ldquo;Hello!rdquo;
Before Jason could register that the voice had come from somewhere else, he sliced off the emperorrsquo;s head. The bust toppled and shattered against the floor.
ldquo;That wasnrsquo;t very nice,rdquo; said the voice behind them.
Jason turned. The winged man from the ice cream stand was leaning against a nearby column, casually tossing a small bronze hoop in the air. At his feet sat a wicker picnic basket full of fruit.
ldquo;I mean,rdquo; the man said, ldquo;what did Diocletian ever do to you?rdquo;
The air swirled around Jasonrsquo;s feet. The shards of marble gathered into a miniature tornado, spiraled back to the pedestal, and reassembled into a complete bust, the note still tucked underneath.
ldquo;Uhmdash;rdquo; Jason lowered his sword. ldquo;It was an accident. You startled me.rdquo;
ldquo;Favonius,rdquo; Jason realized. ldquo;God of the West Wind.rdquo;
Favonius smiled and bowed, obviously pleased to be recognized. ldquo;You can call me by my Roman name, certainly, or Zephyros, if yoursquo;re Greek. Irsquo;m not hung up about it.rdquo;
Nico looked pretty hung up about it. ldquo;Why arenrsquo;t your Greek and Roman sides in conflict, like the other gods?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, I have the occasional headache.rdquo; Favonius shrugged. ldquo;Some mornings Irsquo;ll wake up in a Greek chiton when Irsquo;m sure I went to sleep in my SPQR pajamas. But mostly the war doesnrsquo;t bother me. Irsquo;m a minor god, you knowmdash;never really been much in the limelight. The to-and-fro battles among you demigods donrsquo;t affect me as greatly.rdquo;
ldquo;Sohellip;rdquo; Jason wasnrsquo;t quite sure whether to sheathe his sword. ldquo;What are you doing here?rdquo;
ldquo;Several things!rdquo; Favonius said. ldquo;Hanging out with my basket of fruit. I always carry a basket of fruit. Would you like a pear?rdquo;
ldquo;Irsquo;m good. Thanks.rdquo;
ldquo;Letrsquo;s seehellip;earlier I was eating ice cream. Right now Irsquo;m tossing this quoit ring.rdquo; Favonius spun the bronze hoop on his index finger.
Jason had no idea what a quoit was, but he tried to stay focused. ldquo;I mean why did you appear to us? Why did you lead us to this cellar?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh!rdquo; Favonius nodded. ldquo;The sarcophagus of Diocletian. Yes. This was its final resting place. The Christians moved it out of the mausoleum. Then some barbarians destroyed the coffin. I just wanted to show yourdquo;mdash;he spread his hands sadlymdash;ldquo;that what yoursquo;re looking for isnrsquo;t here. My master has taken it.rdquo;
ldquo;Your master?rdquo; Jason had a flashback to a floating palace above Pikes Peak in Colorado, where hersquo;d visited (and barely survived) the studio of a crazy weatherman who claimed he was the god of all the winds. ldquo;Please tell me your master isnrsquo;t Aeolus.rdquo;
ldquo;That airhead?rdquo; Favonius snorted. ldquo;No, of course not.rdquo;
ldquo;He means Eros.rdquo; Nicorsquo;s voice turned edgy. ldquo;Cupid, in Latin.rdquo;
Favonius smiled. ldquo;Very good, Nico di Angelo. Irsquo;m glad to see you again, by the way. Itrsquo;s been a long time.rdquo;
Nico knit his eyebrows. ldquo;Irsquo;ve never met you.rdquo;
ldquo;Yoursquo;ve never seen me,rdquo; the god corrected. ldquo;But Irsquo;ve been watching you. When you came here as a small boy, and several times since. I knew eventually you would return to look upon my masterrsquo;s face.rdquo;
Nico turned even paler than usual. His eyes darted around the cavernous room as if he was starting to feel trapped.
ldquo;Nico?rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Whatrsquo;s he talking about?rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t know. Nothing.rdquo;
ldquo;Nothing?rdquo; Favonius cried. ldquo;The one you care for mosthellip;plunged into Tartarus, and still you will not allow the truth?rdquo;
Suddenly Jason felt like he was eavesdropping.
The one you care for most.
He remembered what Piper had told him about Nicorsquo;s crush on Annabeth. Apparently Nicorsquo;s feelings went way deeper than a simple crush.
ldquo;Wersquo;ve only come for Diocletianrsquo;s scepter,rdquo; Nico said, clearly anxious to change the subject. ldquo;Where is it?rdquo;
ldquo;Ahhellip;rdquo; Favonius nodded sadly. ldquo;You thought it would be as easy as facing Diocletianrsquo;s ghost? Irsquo;m afraid not, Nico. Your trials will be much more difficult. You know, long before this was Diocletianrsquo;s Palace, it was the gateway to my masterrsquo;s court. Irsquo;ve dwelt here for eons, bringing those who sought love into the presence of Cupid.rdquo;
Jason didnrsquo;t like the mention of difficult trials. He didnrsquo;t trust this weird god with the hoop and the wings and the basket of fruit. But an old story surfaced in his mindmdash;something hersquo;d heard at Camp Jupiter. ldquo;Like Psyche, Cupidrsquo;s wife. You carried her to his palace.rdquo;
Favoniusrsquo;s eyes twinkled. ldquo;Very good, Jason Grace. From this exact spot, I carried Psyche on the winds and brought her to the chambers of my master. In fact, that is why Diocletian built his palace here. This place has always been graced by the gentle West Wind.rdquo; He spread his arms. ldquo;It is a spot of tranquility and love in a turbulent world. When Diocletianrsquo;s Palace was ransackedmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;You took the scepter,rdquo; Jason guessed.
ldquo;For safekeeping,rdquo; Favonius agreed. ldquo;It is one of Cupidrsquo;s many treasures, a reminder of better times. If you want ithellip;rdquo; Favonius turned to Nico. ldquo;You must face the god of love.rdquo;
Nico stared at the sunlight coming through the windows, as if wishing he could escape through those narrow openings.
Jason wasnrsquo;t sure what Favonius wanted, but if facing the god of love meant forcing Nico into some sort of confession about which girl he liked, that didnrsquo;t seem so bad.
ldquo;Nico, you can do this,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;It might be embarrassing, but itrsquo;s for the scepter.rdquo;
Nico didnrsquo;t look convinced. In fact he looked like he was going to be sick. But he squared his shoulders and nodded. ldquo;Yoursquo;re right. Imdash;Irsquo;m not afraid of a love god.rdquo;
Favonius beamed. ldquo;Excellent! Would you like a snack before you go?rdquo; He plucked a green apple from his basket and frowned at it. ldquo;Oh, bluster. I keep forgetting my symbol is a basket of unripe fruit. Why doesnrsquo;t the spring wind get more credit? Summer has all the fun.rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s okay,rdquo; Nico said quickly. ldquo;Just take us to Cupid.rdquo;
Favonius spun the hoop on his finger, and Jasonrsquo;s body dissolved into air.
JASON HAD RIDDEN THE WIND MANY TIMES. Being the wind was not the same.
He felt out of control, his thoughts scattered, no boundaries between his body and the rest of the world. He wondered if this was how monsters felt when they were defeatedmdash;bursting into dust, helpless and formless.
Jason could sense Nicorsquo;s presence nearby. The West Wind carried them into the sky above Split. Together they raced over the hills, past Roman aqueducts, highways, and vineyards. As they approached the mountains, Jason saw the ruins of a Roman town spread out in a valley belowmdash;crumbling walls, square foundations, and cracked roads, all overgrown with grassmdash;so it looked like a giant, mossy game board.
Favonius set them down in the middle of the ruins, next to a broken column the size of a redwood.
Jasonrsquo;s body re-formed. For a moment it felt even worse than being the wind, like hersquo;d suddenly been wrapped in a lead overcoat.
ldquo;Yes, mortal bodies are terribly bulky,rdquo; Favonius said, as if reading his thoughts. The wind god settled on a nearby wall with his basket of fruit and spread his russet wings in the sun. ldquo;Honestly, I donrsquo;t know how you stand it, day in and day out.rdquo;
Jason scanned their surroundings. The town must have been huge once. He could make out the shells of temples and bathhouses, a half-buried amphitheater, and empty pedestals that must have once held statues. Rows of columns marched off to nowhere. The old city walls wove in and out of the hillside like stone thread through a green cloth.
Some areas looked like theyrsquo;d been excavated, but most of the city just seemed abandoned, as if it had been left to the elements for the last two thousand years.
ldquo;Welcome to Salona,rdquo; Favonius said. ldquo;Capital of Dalmatia! Birthplace of Diocletian! But before that, long before that, it was the home of Cupid.rdquo;
The name echoed, as if voices were whispering it through the ruins.
Something about this place seemed even creepier than the palace basement in Split. Jason had never thought much about Cupid. Hersquo;d certainly never thought of Cupid as scary. Even for Roman demigods, the name conjured up an image of a silly winged baby with a toy bow and arrow, flying around in his diapers on Valentinersquo;s Day.
ldquo;Oh, hersquo;s not like that,rdquo; said Favonius.
Jason flinched. ldquo;You can read my mind?rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t need to.rdquo; Favonius tossed his bronze hoop in the air. ldquo;Everyone has the wrong impression of Cupidhellip;until they meet him.rdquo;
Nico braced himself against a column, his legs trembling visibly.
ldquo;Hey, manhellip;rdquo; Jason stepped toward him, but Nico waved him off.
At Nicorsquo;s feet, the grass turned brown and wilted. The dead patch spread outward, as if poison were seeping from the soles of his shoes.
ldquo;Ahhellip;rdquo; Favonius nodded sympathetically. ldquo;I donrsquo;t blame you for being nervous, Nico di Angelo. Do you know how I ended up serving Cupid?rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t serve anyone,rdquo; Nico muttered. ldquo;Especially not Cupid.rdquo;
Favonius continued as if he hadnrsquo;t heard. ldquo;I fell in love with a mortal named Hyacinthus. He was quite extraordinary.rdquo;
ldquo;Hehellip;?rdquo; Jasonrsquo;s brain was still fuzzy from his wind trip, so it took him a second to process that. ldquo;Ohhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, Jason Grace.rdquo; Favonius arched an eyebrow. ldquo;I fell in love with a dude. Does that shock you?rdquo;
Honestly, Jason wasnrsquo;t sure. He tried not to think about the details of godly love lives, no matter who they fell in love with. After all, his dad, Jupiter, wasnrsquo;t exactly a model of good behavior. Compared to some of the Olympian love scandals hersquo;d heard about, the West Wind falling in love with a mortal guy didnrsquo;t seem very shocking. ldquo;I guess not. Sohellip;Cupid struck you with his arrow, and you fell in love.rdquo;
Favonius snorted. ldquo;You make it sound so simple. Alas, love is never simple. You see, the god Apollo also liked Hyacinthus. He claimed they were just friends. I donrsquo;t know. But one day I came across them together, playing a game of quoitsmdash;rdquo;
There was that weird word again. ldquo;Quoits?rdquo;
ldquo;A game with those hoops,rdquo; Nico explained, though his voice was brittle. ldquo;Like horseshoes.rdquo;
ldquo;Sort of,rdquo; Favonius said. ldquo;At any rate, I was jealous. Instead of confronting them and finding out the truth, I shifted the wind and sent a heavy metal ring right at Hyacinthusrsquo;s head andhellip;well.rdquo; The wind god sighed. ldquo;As Hyacinthus died, Apollo turned him into a flower, the hyacinth. Irsquo;m sure Apollo wouldrsquo;ve taken horrible vengeance on me, but Cupid offered me his protection. Irsquo;d done a terrible thing, but Irsquo;d been driven mad by love, so he spared me, on the condition that I work for him forever.rdquo;
CUPID.
The name echoed through the ruins again.
ldquo;That would be my cue.rdquo; Favonius stood. ldquo;Think long and hard about how you proceed, Nico di Angelo. You cannot lie to Cupid. If you let your anger rule youhellip;well, your fate will be even sadder than mine.rdquo;
Jason felt like his brain was turning back into wind. He didnrsquo;t understand what Favonius was talking about, or why Nico seemed so shaken, but he had no time to think about it. The wind god disappeared in a swirl of red and gold. The summer air suddenly felt oppressive. The ground shook, and Jason and Nico drew the
ldquo;Cupid,rdquo; Jason called, ldquo;where are you?rdquo;
The voice laughed. It definitely didnrsquo;t sound like a cute baby angelrsquo;s. It sounded deep and rich, but also threateningmdash;like a tremor before a major earthquake.
Where you least expect me, Cupid answered. As Love always is.
Something slammed into Jason and hurled him across the street. He toppled down a set of steps and sprawled on the floor of an excavated Roman basement.
I would think yoursquo;d know better, Jason Grace. Cupidrsquo;s voice whirled around him. Yoursquo;ve found true love, after all. Or do you still doubt yourself?
Nico scrambled down the steps. ldquo;You okay?rdquo;
Jason accepted his hand and got to his feet. ldquo;Yeah. Just sucker punched.rdquo;
Oh, did you expect me to play fair? Cupid laughed. I am the god of love. I am never fair.
This time, Jasonrsquo;s senses were on high alert. He felt the air ripple just as an arrow materialized, racing toward Nicorsquo;s chest.
Jason intercepted it with his sword and deflected it sideways. The arrow exploded against the nearest wall, peppering them with limestone shrapnel.
They ran up the steps. Jason pulled Nico to one side as another gust of wind toppled a column that would have crushed him flat.
ldquo;Is this guy Love or Death?rdquo; Jason growled.
Ask your friends, Cupid said. Frank, Hazel, and Percy met my counterpart, Thanatos. We are not so different. Except Death is sometimes kinder.
ldquo;We just want the scepter!rdquo; Nico shouted. ldquo;Wersquo;re trying to stop Gaea. Are you on the godsrsquo; side or not?rdquo;
A second arrow hit the ground between Nicorsquo;s feet and glowed white-hot. Nico stumbled back as the arrow burst into a geyser of flame.
Love is on every side, Cupid said. And no onersquo;s side. Donrsquo;t ask what Love can do for you.
ldquo;Great,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Now hersquo;s spouting greeting card messages.rdquo;
Movement behind him: Jason spun, slicing his sword through the air. His blade bit into something solid. He heard a grunt and he swung again, but the invisible god was gone. On the paving stones, a trail of golden ichor shimmeredmdash;the blood of the gods.
Very good, Jason, Cupid said. At least you can sense my presence. Even a glancing hit at true love is more than most heroes manage.
ldquo;So now I get the scepter?rdquo; Jason asked.
Cupid laughed. Unfortunately, you could not wield it. Only a child of the Underworld can summon the dead legions. And only an officer of Rome can lead them.
ldquo;Buthellip;rdquo; Jason wavered. He was an officer. He was praetor. Then he remembered all his second thoughts about where he belonged. In New Rome, hersquo;d offered to give up his position to Percy Jackson. Did that make him unworthy to lead a legion of Roman ghosts?
He decided to face that problem when the time came.
ldquo;Just leave that to us,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Nico can summonmdash;rdquo;
The third arrow zipped by Jasonrsquo;s shoulder. He couldnrsquo;t stop it in time. Nico gasped as it sunk into his sword arm.
ldquo;Nico!rdquo;
The son of Hades stumbled. The arrow dissolved, leaving no blood and no visible wound, but Nicorsquo;s face was tight with rage and pain.
It is a costly thing, Cupid said, looking on the true face of Love.
Another column toppled. Jason scrambled out of its way.
My wife Psyche learned that lesson, Cupid said. She was brought here eons ago, when this was the site of my palace. We met only in the dark. She was warned never to look upon me, and yet she could not stand the mystery. She feared I was a monster. One night, she lit a candle, and beheld my face as I slept.
ldquo;Were you that ugly?rdquo; Jason thought he had zeroed in on Cupidrsquo;s voicemdash;at the edge of the amphitheater about twenty yards awaymdash;but he wanted to make sure.
The god laughed. I was too handsome, Irsquo;m afraid. A mortal cannot gaze upon the true appearance of a god without suffering consequences. My mother, Aphrodite, cursed Psyche for her distrust. My poor lover was tormented, forced into exile, given horrible tasks to prove her worth. She was even sent to the Underworld on a quest to show her dedication. She earned her way back to my side, but she suffered greatly.
Now Irsquo;ve got you, Jason thought.
He thrust his sword in the sky and thunder shook the valley. Lightning blasted a crater where the voice had been speaking.
Silence. Jason was just thinking, Dang, it actually worked, when an invisible force knocked him to the ground. His sword skittered across the road.
A good try, Cupid said, his voice already distant. But Love cannot be pinned down so easily.
Next to him, a wall collapsed. Jason barely managed to roll aside.
ldquo;Stop it!rdquo; Nico yelled. ldquo;Itrsquo;s me you want. Leave him alone!rdquo;
Jasonrsquo;s ears rang. He was dizzy from getting smacked around. His mouth tasted like limestone dust. He didnrsquo;t understand why Nico would think of himself as the main target, but Cupid seemed to agree.
Poor Nico di Angelo. The godrsquo;s voice was tinged with disappointment. Do you know what you want, much less what I want? My beloved Psyche risked everything in the name of Love. It was the only way to atone for her lack of faith. And youmdash;what have you risked in my name?
ldquo;Irsquo;ve been to Tartarus and back,rdquo; Nico snarled. ldquo;You donrsquo;t scare me.rdquo;
I scare you very, very much. Face me. Be honest.
Jason pulled himself up.
All around Nico, the ground shifted. The grass withered, and the stones cracked as if something was moving in the earth beneath, trying to push its way through.
ldquo;Give us Diocletianrsquo;s scepter,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;We donrsquo;t have time for games.rdquo;
Games? Cupid struck, slapping Nico sideways into a granite pedestal. Love is no game! It is no flowery softness! It is hard workmdash;a quest that never ends. It demands everything from youmdash;especially the truth. Only then does it yield rewards.
Jason retrieved his sword. If this invisible guy was Love, Jason was beginning to think Love was overrated. He liked Piperrsquo;s version bettermdash;considerate, kind, and beautiful. Aphrodite he could understand. Cupid seemed more like a thug, an enforcer.
ldquo;Nico,rdquo; he called, ldquo;what does this guy want from you?rdquo;
Tell him, Nico di Angelo, Cupid said. Tell him you are a coward, afraid of yourself and your feelings. Tell him the real reason you ran from Camp Half-Blood, and why you are always alone.
Nico let loose a guttural scream. The ground at his feet split open and skeletons crawled forthmdash;dead Romans with missing hands and caved-in skulls, cracked ribs, and jaws unhinged. Some were dressed in the remnants of togas. Others had glinting pieces of armor hanging off their chests.
Will you hide among the dead, as you always do? Cupid taunted.
Waves of darkness rolled off the son of Hades. When they hit Jason, he almost lost consciousnessmdash;overwhelmed by hatred and fear and shamehellip;
Images flashed through his mind. He saw Nico and his sister on a snowy cliff in Maine, Percy Jackson protecting them from a manticore. Percyrsquo;s sword gleamed in the dark. Hersquo;d been the first demigod Nico had ever seen in action.
Later, at Camp Half-Blood, Percy took Nico by the arm, promising to keep his sister Bianca safe. Nico believed him. Nico looked into his sea-green eyes and thought, How can he possibly fail? This is a real hero. He was Nicorsquo;s favorite game, Mythomagic, brought to life.
Jason saw the moment when Percy returned and told Nico that Bianca was dead. Nico had screamed and called him a liar. Hersquo;d felt betrayed, but stillhellip;when the skeleton warriors attacked, he couldnrsquo;t let them harm Percy. Nico had called on the earth to swallow them up, and then hersquo;d run awaymdash;terrified of his own powers, and his own emotions.
Jason saw a dozen more scenes like this from Nicorsquo;s point of view.hellip; And they left him stunned, unable to move or speak.
Meanwhile, Nicorsquo;s Roman skeletons surged forward and grappled with something invisible. The god struggled, flinging the dead aside, breaking off ribs and skulls, but the skeletons kept coming, pinning the godrsquo;s arms.
Interesting! Cupid said. Do you have the strength, after all?
ldquo;I left Camp Half-Blood because of love,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;Annabethhellip;shemdash;rdquo;
Still hiding, Cupid said, smashing another skeleton to pieces. You do not have the strength.
ldquo;Nico,rdquo; Jason managed to say, ldquo;itrsquo;s okay. I get it.rdquo;
Nico glanced over, pain and misery washing across his face.
ldquo;No, you donrsquo;t,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Therersquo;s no way you can understand.rdquo;
And so you run away again, Cupid chided. From your friends, from yourself.
ldquo;I donrsquo;t have friends!rdquo; Nico yelled. ldquo;I left Camp Half-Blood because I donrsquo;t belong! Irsquo;ll never belong!rdquo;
The skeletons had Cupid pinned now, but the invisible god laughed so cruelly that Jason wanted to summon another bolt of lightning. Unfortunately, he doubted he had the strength.
ldquo;Leave him alone, Cupid,rdquo; Jason croaked. ldquo;This isnrsquo;thellip;rdquo;
His voice failed. He wanted to say it wasnrsquo;t Cupidrsquo;s business, but he realized this was exactly Cupidrsquo;s business. Something Favonius said kept buzzing in his ears: Are you shocked?
The story of Psyche finally made sense to himmdash;why a mortal girl would be so afraid. Why she would risk breaking the rules to look the god of love in the face, because she feared he might be a monster.
Psyche had been right. Cupid was a monster. Love was the most savage monster of all.
Nicorsquo;s voice was like broken glass. ldquo;Imdash;I wasnrsquo;t in love with Annabeth.rdquo;
ldquo;You were jealous of her,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s why you didnrsquo;t want to be around her. Especially why you didnrsquo;t want to be aroundhellip;him. It makes total sense.rdquo;
All the fight and denial seemed to go out of Nico at once. The darkness subsided. The Roman dead collapsed into bones and crumbled to dust.
Cupid became visiblemdash;a lean, muscular young man with snowy white wings, straight black hair, a simple white frock and jeans. The bow and quiver slung over his shoulder were no toysmdash;they were weapons of war. His eyes were as red as blood, as if every Valentine in the world had been squeezed dry, distilled into one poisonous mixture. His face was handsome, but also harshmdash;as difficult to look at as a spotlight. He watched Nico with satisfaction, as if hersquo;d identified the exact spot for his next arrow to make a clean kill.
ldquo;I had a crush on Percy,rdquo; Nico spat. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s the truth. Thatrsquo;s the big secret.rdquo;
He glared at Cupid. ldquo;Happy now?rdquo;
For the first time, Cupidrsquo;s gaze seemed sympathetic. ldquo;Oh, I wouldnrsquo;t say Love always makes you happy.rdquo; His voice sounded smaller, much more human. ldquo;Sometimes it makes you incredibly sad. But at least yoursquo;ve faced it now. Thatrsquo;s the only
Nico knelt and picked it up. He regarded Jason, as if waiting for an attack. ldquo;If the others found outmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;If the others found out,rdquo; Jason said, ldquo;yoursquo;d have that many more people to back you up, and to unleash the fury of the gods on anybody who gives you trouble.rdquo;
Nico scowled. Jason still felt the resentment and anger rippling off him.
ldquo;But itrsquo;s your call,rdquo; Jason added. ldquo;Your decision to share or not. I can only tell youmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t feel that way anymore,rdquo; Nico muttered. ldquo;I meanhellip;I gave up on Percy. I was young and impressionable, and Imdash;I donrsquo;thellip;rdquo;
His voice cracked, and Jason could tell the guy was about to get teary-eyed. Whether Nico had really given up on Percy or not, Jason couldnrsquo;t imagine what it had been like for Nico all those years, keeping a secret that wouldrsquo;ve been unthinkable to share in the 1940s, denying who he was, feeling completely alonemdash;even more isolated than other demigods.
ldquo;Nico,rdquo; he said gently, ldquo;Irsquo;ve seen a lot of brave things. But what you just did? That was maybe the bravest.rdquo;
Nico looked up uncertainly. ldquo;We should get back to the ship.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah. I can fly usmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;No,rdquo; Nico announced. ldquo;This time wersquo;re shadow-traveling. Irsquo;ve had enough of the winds for a while.rdquo;
LOSING HER SIGHT HAD BEEN BAD ENOUGH. Being isolated from Percy had been horrible.
But now that she could see again, watching him die slowly from gorgonrsquo;s blood poison and being unable to do anything about itmdash;that was the worst curse of all.
Bob slung Percy over his shoulder like a bag of sports equipment while the skeleton kitten Small Bob curled up on Percyrsquo;s back and purred. Bob lumbered along at a fast pace, even for a Titan, which made it almost impossible for Annabeth to keep up.
Her lungs rattled. Her skin had started to blister again. She probably needed another drink of firewater, but theyrsquo;d left the River Phlegethon behind. Her body was so sore and battered that shersquo;d forgotten what it was like not to be in pain.
ldquo;How much longer?rdquo; she wheezed.
ldquo;Almost too long,rdquo; Bob called back. ldquo;But maybe not.rdquo;
Very helpful, Annabeth thought, but she was too winded to say it.
The landscape changed again. They were still going downhill, which should have made traveling easier; but the ground sloped at just the wrong anglemdash;too steep to jog, too treacherous to let her guard down even for a moment. The surface was sometimes loose gravel, sometimes patches of slime. Annabeth stepped around random bristles sharp enough to impale her foot, and clusters ofhellip;well, not rocks exactly. More like warts the size of watermelons. If Annabeth had to guess (and she didnrsquo;t want to) she supposed Bob was leading her down the length of Tartarusrsquo;s large intestine.
The air got thicker and stank of sewage. The darkness maybe wasnrsquo;t quite as intense, but she could only see Bob because of the glint of his white hair and the point of his spear. She noticed he hadnrsquo;t retracted the spearhead on his broom since their fight with the arai. That didnrsquo;t reassure her.
Percy flopped around, causing the kitten to readjust his nest in the small of Percyrsquo;s back. Occasionally Percy would groan in pain, and Annabeth felt like a fist was squeezing her heart.
She flashed back to her tea party with Piper, Hazel, and Aphrodite in Charleston. Gods, that seemed so long ago. Aphrodite had sighed and waxed nostalgic about the good old days of the Civil Warmdash;how love and war always went hand in hand.
Aphrodite had gestured proudly to Annabeth, using her as an example for the other girls: I once promised to make her love life interesting. And didnrsquo;t I?
Annabeth had wanted to throttle the goddess of love. Shersquo;d had more than her share of interesting. Now Annabeth was holding out for a happy ending. Surely that was possible, no matter what the legends said about tragic heroes. There had to be exceptions, right? If suffering led to reward, then Percy and she deserved the grand prize.
She thought about Percyrsquo;s daydream of New Romemdash;the two of them settling down there, going to college together. At first, the idea of living among the Romans had appalled her. She had resented them for taking Percy away from her.
Now she would accept that offer gladly.
If only they survived this. If only Reyna had gotten her message. If only a million other long shots paid off.
Stop it, she chided herself.
She had to concentrate on the present, putting one foot in front of the other, taking this downhill intestinal hike one giant wart at a time.
Her knees felt warm and wobbly, like wire hangers bent to the point of snapping. Percy groaned and muttered something she couldnrsquo;t make out.
Bob stopped suddenly. ldquo;Look.rdquo;
Ahead in the gloom, the terrain leveled out into a black swamp. Sulfur-yellow mist hung in the air. Even without sunlight, there were actual plantsmdash;clumps of reeds, scrawny leafless trees, even a few sickly-looking flowers blooming in the muck. Mossy trails wound between bubbling tar pits. Directly in front of Annabeth, sunk into the bog, were footprints the size of trash-can lids, with long, pointed toes.
Sadly, Annabeth was pretty sure she knew what had made them. ldquo;Drakon?rdquo;
ldquo;Yes.rdquo; Bob grinned at her. ldquo;That is good!rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;why?rdquo;
ldquo;Because we are close.rdquo;
Bob marched into the swamp.
Annabeth wanted to scream. She hated being at the mercy of a Titanmdash;especially one who was slowly recovering his memory and bringing them to see a ldquo;goodrdquo; giant. She hated forging through a swamp that was obviously the stomping ground of a drakon.
But Bob had Percy. If she hesitated, she would lose them in the dark. She hurried after him, hopping from moss patch to moss patch and praying to Athena that she didnrsquo;t fall in a sinkhole.
At least the terrain forced Bob to go slower. Once Annabeth caught up, she could walk right behind him and keep an eye on Percy, who was mumbling deliriously, his forehead dangerously hot. Several times he muttered Annabeth, and she fought back a sob. The kitten just purred louder and snuggled up.
Finally the yellow mist parted, revealing a muddy clearing like an island in the muck. The ground was dotted with stunted trees and wart mounds. In the center loomed a large, domed hut made of bones and greenish leather. Smoke rose from a hole in the top. The entrance was covered with curtains of scaly reptile skin, and flanking the entrance, two torches made from colossal femur bones burned bright yellow.
What really caught Annabethrsquo;s attention was the drakon skull. Fifty yards into the clearing, about halfway to the hut, a massive oak tree jutted from the ground at a forty-five-degree angle. The jaws of a drakon skull encircled the trunk, as if the oak tree were the dead monsterrsquo;s tongue.
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Bob murmured. ldquo;This is very good.rdquo;
Nothing about this place felt good to Annabeth.
Before she could protest, Small Bob arched his back and hissed. Behind them, a mighty roar echoed through the swampmdash;a sound Annabeth had last heard in the Battle of Manhattan.
She turned and saw the drakon charging toward them.
THE MOST INSULTING PART?
The drakon was easily the most beautiful thing Annabeth had seen since she had fallen into Tartarus. Its hide was dappled green and yellow, like sunlight through a forest canopy. Its reptilian eyes were Annabethrsquo;s favorite shade of sea green (just like Percyrsquo;s). When its frills unfurled around its head, Annabeth couldnrsquo;t help but think what a regal and amazing monster it was that was about to kill her.
It was easily as long as a subway train. Its massive talons dug into the mud as it pulled itself forward, its tail whipping from side to side. The drakon hissed, spitting jets of green poison that smoked on the mossy ground and set tar pits on fire, filling the air with the scent of fresh pine and ginger. The monster even smelled good. Like most drakons, it was wingless, longer, and more snakelike than a dragon, and it looked hungry.
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; Annabeth said, ldquo;what are we facing here?rdquo;
ldquo;Maeonian drakon,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;From Maeonia.rdquo;
More helpful information. Annabeth wouldrsquo;ve smacked Bob upside the head with his own broom if she could lift it. ldquo;Any way we can kill it?rdquo;
ldquo;Us?rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;No.rdquo;
The drakon roared as if to accentuate the point, filling the air with more pine-ginger poison, which would have made an excellent car-freshener scent.
ldquo;Get Percy to safety,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Irsquo;ll distract it.rdquo;
She had no idea how she would do that, but it was her only choice. She couldnrsquo;t let Percy diemdash;not if she still had the strength to stand.
ldquo;You donrsquo;t have to,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Any minutemdash;rdquo;
ldquo;ROOOOOAAAR!rdquo;
Annabeth turned as the giant emerged from his hut.
He was about twenty feet tallmdash;typical giant heightmdash;with a humanoid upper body, and scaly reptilian legs, like a bipedal dinosaur. He held no weapon. Instead of armor, he wore only a shirt stitched together from sheep hides and green-spotted leather. His skin was cherry red; his beard and hair the color of iron rust, braided with tufts of grass, leaves, and swamp flowers.
He shouted in challenge, but thankfully he wasnrsquo;t looking at Annabeth. Bob pulled her out of the way as the giant stormed toward the drakon.
They clashed like some sort of weird Christmas combat scenemdash;the red versus the green. The drakon spewed poison. The giant lunged to one side. He grabbed the oak tree and pulled it from the ground, roots and all. The old skull crumbled to dust as the giant hefted the tree like a baseball bat.
The drakonrsquo;s tail lashed around the giantrsquo;s waist, dragging him closer to its gnashing teeth. But as soon as the giant was in range, he shoved the tree straight down the monsterrsquo;s throat.
Annabeth hoped she never had to see such a gruesome scene again. The tree pierced the drakonrsquo;s gullet and impaled it to the ground. The roots began to move, digging deeper as they touched the earth, anchoring the oak until it looked like it had stood in that spot for centuries. The drakon shook and thrashed, but it was pinned fast.
The giant brought his fist down on the drakonrsquo;s neck. *****. The monster went limp. It began to dissolve, leaving only scraps of bone, meat, hide, and a new drakon skull whose open jaws ringed the oak tree.
Bob grunted. ldquo;Good one.rdquo;
The kitten purred in agreement and started cleaning his paws.
The giant kicked at the drakonrsquo;s remains, examining them critically. ldquo;No good bones,rdquo; he complained. ldquo;I wanted a new walking stick. Hmpf. Some good skin for the outhouse, though.rdquo;
He ripped some soft hide from the drakonrsquo;s frills and tucked it in his belt.
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Annabeth wanted to ask if the giant really used drakon hide for toilet paper, but she decided against it. ldquo;Bob, do you want to introduce us?rdquo;
Bob shifted his weight. Titans were scary, but Annabeth had never seen one next to a giant before. Compared to the drakon-killer, Bob looked downright runty.
ldquo;Damasen is a good giant,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;He is peaceful. He can cure poisons.rdquo;
Annabeth watched the giant Damasen, who was now ripping chunks of bloody meat from the drakon carcass with his bare hands.
ldquo;Peaceful,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Yes, I can see that.rdquo;
ldquo;Good meat for dinner.rdquo; Damasen stood up straight and studied Annabeth, as if she were another potential source of protein. ldquo;Come inside. We will have stew. Then we will see about this promise.rdquo;
COZY.
Annabeth never thought she would describe anything in Tartarus that way, but despite the fact that the giantrsquo;s hut was as big as a planetarium and constructed of bones, mud, and drakon skin, it definitely felt cozy.
In the center blazed a bonfire made of pitch and bone; yet the smoke was white and odorless, rising through the hole in the middle of the ceiling. The floor was covered with dry marsh grass and gray wool rugs. At one end lay a massive bed of sheepskins and drakon leather. At the other end, freestanding racks were hung with drying plants, cured leather, and what looked like strips of drakon jerky. The whole place smelled of stew, smoke, basil, and thyme.
The only thing that worried Annabeth was the flock of sheep huddled in a pen at the back of the hut.
Annabeth remembered the cave of Polyphemus the Cyclops, who ate demigods and sheep indiscriminately. She wondered if giants had similar tastes.
Part of her was tempted to run, but Bob had already placed Percy in the giantrsquo;s bed, where he nearly disappeared in the wool and leather. Small Bob hopped off Percy and kneaded the blankets, purring so strongly the bed rattled like a Thousand-Finger Massage.
Damasen plodded to the bonfire. He tossed his drakon meat into a hanging pot that seemed to be made from an old monster skull, then picked up a ladle and began to stir.
Annabeth didnrsquo;t want to be the next ingredient in his stew, but shersquo;d come here for a reason. She took a deep breath and marched up to Damasen. ldquo;My friend is dying. Can you cure him or not?rdquo;
Her voice caught on the word friend. Percy was a lot more than that. Even boyfriend really didnrsquo;t cover it. Theyrsquo;d been through so much together, at this point Percy was part of hermdash;a sometimes annoying part, sure, but definitely a part she could not live without.
Damasen looked down at her, glowering under his bushy red eyebrows. Annabeth had met large scary humanoids before, but Damasen unsettled her in a different way. He didnrsquo;t seem hostile. He radiated sorrow and bitterness, as if he were so wrapped up in his own misery that he resented Annabeth for trying to make him focus on anything else.
ldquo;I donrsquo;t hear words like those in Tartarus,rdquo; the giant grumbled. ldquo;Friend. Promise.rdquo;
Annabeth crossed her arms. ldquo;How about gorgonrsquo;s blood? Can you cure that, or did Bob overstate your talents?rdquo;
Angering a twenty-foot-tall drakon slayer probably wasnrsquo;t a wise strategy, but Percy was dying. She didnrsquo;t have time for diplomacy.
Damasen scowled at her. ldquo;You question my talents? A half-dead mortal straggles into my swamp and questions my talents?rdquo;
ldquo;Yep,rdquo; she said.
ldquo;Hmph.rdquo; Damasen handed Bob the ladle. ldquo;Stir.rdquo;
As Bob tended the stew, Damasen perused his drying racks, plucking various leaves and roots. He popped a fistful of plant material into his mouth, chewed it up, then spat it into a clump of wool.
ldquo;Cup of broth,rdquo; Damasen ordered.
Bob ladled some stew juice into a hollow gourd. He handed it to Damasen, who dunked the chewed-up gunk ball and stirred it with his finger.
ldquo;Gorgonrsquo;s blood,rdquo; he muttered. ldquo;Hardly a challenge for my talents.rdquo;
He lumbered to the bedside and propped up Percy with one hand. Small Bob the kitten sniffed the broth and hissed. He scratched the sheets with his paws like he wanted to bury it.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re going to feed him that?rdquo; Annabeth asked.
The giant glared at her. ldquo;Who is the healer here? You?rdquo;
Annabeth shut her mouth. She watched as the giant made Percy sip the broth. Damasen handled him with surprising gentleness, murmuring words of encouragement that she couldnrsquo;t quite catch.
With each sip, Percyrsquo;s color improved. He drained the cup, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked around with a dazed expression, spotted Annabeth, and gave her a drunken grin. ldquo;Feel great.rdquo;
His eyes rolled up in his head. He fell back in the bed and began to snore.
ldquo;A few hours of sleep,rdquo; Damasen pronounced. ldquo;Hersquo;ll be good as new.rdquo;
Annabeth sobbed with relief.
ldquo;Thank you,rdquo; she said.
Damasen stared at her mournfully. ldquo;Oh, donrsquo;t thank me. Yoursquo;re still doomed. And I require payment for my services.rdquo;
Annabethrsquo;s mouth went dry. ldquo;Uhhellip;what sort of payment?rdquo;
ldquo;A story.rdquo; The giantrsquo;s eyes glittered. ldquo;It gets boring in Tartarus. You can tell me your story while we eat, eh?rdquo;
Annabeth felt uneasy telling a giant about their plans.
Still, Damasen was a good host. Hersquo;d saved Percy. His drakon-meat stew was excellent (especially compared to firewater). His hut was warm and comfortable, and for the first time since plunging into Tartarus, Annabeth felt like she could relax. Which was ironic, since she was having dinner with a Titan and a giant.
She told Damasen about her life and her adventures with Percy. She explained how Percy had met Bob, wiped his memory in the River Lethe, and left him in the care of Hades.
ldquo;Percy was trying to do something good,rdquo; she promised Bob. ldquo;He didnrsquo;t know Hades would be such a creep.rdquo;
Even to her, it didnrsquo;t sound convincing. Hades was always a creep.
She thought about what the arai had saidmdash;how Nico di Angelo had been the only person to visit Bob in the palace of the Underworld. Nico was one of the least outgoing, least friendly demigods Annabeth knew. Yet hersquo;d been kind to Bob. By convincing Bob that Percy was a friend, Nico had inadvertently saved their lives. Annabeth wondered if she would ever figure that guy out.
Bob washed his bowl with his squirt bottle and rag.
Damasen made a rolling gesture with his spoon. ldquo;Continue your story, Annabeth Chase.rdquo;
She explained about their quest in the Argo II. When she got to the part about stopping Gaea from waking, she faltered. ldquo;Shersquo;s, umhellip;shersquo;s your mom, right?rdquo;
Damasen scraped his bowl. His face was covered with old poison burns, gouges, and scar tissue, so it looked like the surface of an asteroid.
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; he said. ldquo;And Tartarus is my father.rdquo; He gestured around the hut. ldquo;As you can see, I was a disappointment to my parents. They expectedhellip;more from me.rdquo;
Annabeth couldnrsquo;t quite wrap her mind around the fact that she was sharing soup with a twenty-foot-tall lizard-legged man whose parents were Earth and the Pit of Darkness.
Olympian gods were hard enough to imagine as parents, but at least they resembled humans. The old primordial gods like Gaea and Tartarushellip; How could you leave home and ever be independent of your parents, when they literally encompassed the entire world?
ldquo;Sohellip;rdquo; she said. ldquo;You donrsquo;t mind us fighting your mom?rdquo;
Damasen snorted like a bull. ldquo;Best of luck. At present, itrsquo;s my father you should worry about. With him opposing you, you have no chance to survive.rdquo;
Suddenly Annabeth didnrsquo;t feel so hungry. She put her bowl on the floor. Small Bob came over to check it out.
ldquo;Opposing us how?rdquo; she asked.
ldquo;All of this.rdquo; Damasen cracked a drakon bone and used a splinter as a toothpick. ldquo;All that you see is the body of Tartarus, or at least one manifestation of it. He knows you are here. He tries to thwart your progress at every step. My brethren hunt you. It is remarkable you have lived this long, even with the help of Iapetus.rdquo;
Bob scowled when he heard his name. ldquo;The defeated ones hunt us, yes. They will be close behind now.rdquo;
Damasen spat out his toothpick. ldquo;I can obscure your path for a while, long enough for you to rest. I have power in this swamp. But eventually, they will catch you.rdquo;
ldquo;My friends must reach the Doors of Death,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;That is the way out.rdquo;
ldquo;Impossible,rdquo; Damasen muttered. ldquo;The Doors are too well guarded.rdquo;
Annabeth sat forward. ldquo;But you know where they are?rdquo;
ldquo;Of course. All of Tartarus flows down to one place: his heart. The Doors of Death are there. But you cannot make it there alive with only Iapetus.rdquo;
ldquo;Then come with us,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Help us.rdquo;
ldquo;HA!rdquo;
Annabeth jumped. In the bed, Percy muttered deliriously in his sleep, ldquo;Ha, ha, ha.rdquo;
ldquo;Child of Athena,rdquo; the giant said, ldquo;I am not your friend. I helped mortals once, and you see where it got me.rdquo;
ldquo;You helped mortals?rdquo; Annabeth knew a lot about Greek legends, but she drew a total blank on the name Damasen. ldquo;Imdash;I donrsquo;t understand.rdquo;
ldquo;Bad story,rdquo; Bob explained. ldquo;Good giants have bad stories. Damasen was created to oppose Ares.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; the giant agreed. ldquo;Like all my brethren, I was born to answer a certain god. My foe was Ares. But Ares was the god of war. And so, when I was bornmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;You were his opposite,rdquo; Annabeth guessed. ldquo;You were peaceful.rdquo;
ldquo;Peaceful for a giant, at least.rdquo; Damasen sighed. ldquo;I wandered the fields of Maeonia, in the land you now call Turkey. I tended my sheep and collected my herbs. It was a good life. But I would not fight the gods. My mother and father cursed me for that. The final insult: One day the Maeonian drakon killed a human shepherd, a friend of mine, so I hunted the creature down and slew it, thrusting a tree straight through its mouth. I used the power of the earth to regrow the treersquo;s roots, planting the drakon firmly in the ground. I made sure it would terrorize mortals no more. That was a deed Gaea could not forgive.rdquo;
ldquo;Because you helped someone?rdquo;
ldquo;Yes.rdquo; Damasen looked ashamed. ldquo;Gaea opened the earth, and I was consumed, exiled here in the belly of my father Tartarus, where all the useless flotsam collectsmdash;all the bits of creation he does not care for.rdquo; The giant plucked a flower out of his hair and regarded it absently. ldquo;They let me live, tending my sheep, collecting my herbs, so I might know the uselessness of the life I chose. Every daymdash;or what passes for day in this lightless placemdash;the Maeonian drakon re-forms and attacks me. Killing it is my endless task.rdquo;
Annabeth gazed around the hut, trying to imagine how many eons Damasen had been exiled heremdash;slaying the drakon, collecting its bones and hide and meat, knowing it would attack again the next day. She could barely imagine surviving a week in Tartarus.
ldquo;There must be a way.rdquo; Annabeth couldnrsquo;t stand the expression on the giantrsquo;s face. It reminded her of her own father, the few times hersquo;d confessed to her that he still loved Athena. He had looked so sad and defeated, wishing for something he knew was impossible.
ldquo;Bob has a plan to reach the Doors of Death,rdquo; she insisted. ldquo;He said we could hide in some sort of Death Mist.rdquo;
ldquo;Death Mist?rdquo; Damasen scowled at Bob. ldquo;You would take them to Akhlys?rdquo;
ldquo;It is the only way,rdquo; Bob said.
ldquo;You will die,rdquo; Damasen said. ldquo;Painfully. In darkness. Akhlys trusts no one and helps no one.rdquo;
Bob looked like he wanted to argue, but he pressed his lips together and remained silent.
ldquo;Is there another way?rdquo; Annabeth asked.
ldquo;No,rdquo; Damasen said. ldquo;The Death Misthellip;that is the best plan. Unfortunately, it is a terrible plan.rdquo;
Annabeth felt like she was hanging over the pit again, unable to pull herself up, unable to maintain her gripmdash;left with no good options.
ldquo;But isnrsquo;t it worth trying?rdquo; she asked. ldquo;You could return to the mortal world. You could see the sun again.rdquo;
Damasenrsquo;s eyes were like the sockets of the drakonrsquo;s skullmdash;dark and hollow, devoid of hope. He flicked a broken bone into the fire and rose to his full heightmdash;a massive red warrior in sheepskin and drakon leather, with dried flowers and herbs in his hair. Annabeth could see how he was the anti-Ares. Ares was the worst god, blustery and violent. Damasen was the best giant, kind and helpfulhellip;and for that, hersquo;d been cursed to eternal torment.
ldquo;Get some sleep,rdquo; the giant said. ldquo;I will prepare supplies for your journey. I am sorry, but I cannot do more.rdquo;
Annabeth wanted to argue, but as soon as he said sleep, her body betrayed her, despite her resolution never to sleep in Tartarus again. Her belly was full. The fire made a pleasant crackling sound. The herbs in the air reminded her of the hills around Camp Half-Blood in the summer, when the satyrs and naiads gathered wild plants in the lazy afternoons.
ldquo;Maybe a little sleep,rdquo; she agreed.
Bob scooped her up like a rag doll. She didnrsquo;t protest. He set her next to Percy on the giantrsquo;s bed, and she closed her eyes.
ANNABETH WOKE STARING at the shadows dancing across the hutrsquo;s ceiling. She hadnrsquo;t had a single dream. That was so unusual, she wasnrsquo;t sure if shersquo;d actually woken up.
As she lay there, Percy snoring next to her and Small Bob purring on her belly, she heard Bob and Damasen deep in conversation.
ldquo;No,rdquo; Bob admitted. ldquo;She is already scared.rdquo;
The giant grumbled. ldquo;She should be. And if you cannot guide them past Night?rdquo;
Damasen said Night like it was a proper namemdash;an evil name.
ldquo;I have to,rdquo; Bob said.
ldquo;Why?rdquo; Damasen wondered. ldquo;What have the demigods given you? They have erased your old self, everything you were. Titans and giantshellip;we are meant to be the foes of the gods and their children. Are we not?rdquo;
ldquo;Then why did you heal the boy?rdquo;
Damasen exhaled. ldquo;I have been wondering that myself. Perhaps because the girl goaded me, or perhapshellip;I find these two demigods intriguing. They are resilient to have made it so far. That is admirable. Still, how can we help them any further? It is not our fate.rdquo;
ldquo;Perhaps,rdquo; Bob said, uncomfortably. ldquo;Buthellip;do you like our fate?rdquo;
ldquo;What a question. Does anyone like his fate?rdquo;
ldquo;I liked being Bob,rdquo; Bob murmured. ldquo;Before I started to rememberhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Huh.rdquo; There was a shuffling sound, as if Damasen was stuffing a leather bag.
ldquo;Damasen,rdquo; the Titan asked, ldquo;do you remember the sun?rdquo;
The shuffling stopped. Annabeth heard the giant exhale through his nostrils. ldquo;Yes. It was yellow. When it touched the horizon, it turned the sky beautiful colors.rdquo;
ldquo;I miss the sun,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;The stars, too. I would like to say hello to the stars again.rdquo;
ldquo;Starshellip;rdquo; Damasen said the word as if hersquo;d forgotten its meaning. ldquo;Yes. They made silver patterns in the night sky.rdquo; He threw something to the floor with a thump. ldquo;Bah. This is useless talk. We cannotmdash;rdquo;
In the distance, the Maeonian drakon roared.
Percy sat bolt upright. ldquo;What? Whatmdash;wheremdash;what?rdquo;
ldquo;Itrsquo;s okay.rdquo; Annabeth took his arm.
When he registered that they were together in a giantrsquo;s bed with a skeleton cat, he looked more confused than ever. ldquo;That noisehellip;where are we?rdquo;
ldquo;How much do you remember?rdquo; she asked.
Percy frowned. His eyes seemed alert. All his wounds had vanished. Except for his tattered clothes and a few layers of dirt and grime, he looked as if hersquo;d never fallen into Tartarus.
Damasen loomed over the bed. ldquo;There is no time, little mortals. The drakon is returning. I fear its roar will draw the othersmdash;my brethren, hunting you. They will be here within minutes.rdquo;
Annabethrsquo;s pulse quickened. ldquo;What will you tell them when they get here?rdquo;
Damasenrsquo;s mouth twitched. ldquo;What is there to tell? Nothing of significance, as long as you are gone.rdquo;
He tossed them two drakon-leather satchels. ldquo;Clothes, food, drink.rdquo;
Bob was wearing a similar but larger pack. He leaned on his broom, gazing at Annabeth as if still pondering Damasenrsquo;s words: What have the demigods given you? We are meant to be the foes of the gods and their children.
Suddenly Annabeth was struck by a thought so sharp and clear, it was like a blade from Athena herself.
ldquo;The Prophecy of Seven,rdquo; she said.
Percy had already climbed out of the bed and was shouldering his pack. He frowned at her. ldquo;What about it?rdquo;
Annabeth grabbed Damasenrsquo;s hand, startling the giant. His brow furrowed. His skin was as rough as sandstone.
ldquo;You have to come with us,rdquo; she pleaded. ldquo;The prophecy says foes bear arms to the Doors of Death. I thought it meant Romans and Greeks, but thatrsquo;s not it. The line means usmdash;demigods, a Titan, a giant. We need you to close the Doors!rdquo;
The drakon roared outside, closer this time. Damasen gently pulled his hand away.
ldquo;No, child,rdquo; he murmured. ldquo;My curse is here. I cannot escape it.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, you can,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Donrsquo;t fight the drakon. Figure out a way to break the cycle! Find another fate.rdquo;
Damasen shook his head. ldquo;Even if I could, I cannot leave this swamp. It is the only destination I can picture.rdquo;
Annabethrsquo;s mind raced. ldquo;There is another destination. Look at me! Remember my face. When yoursquo;re ready, come find me. Wersquo;ll take you to the mortal world with us. You can see the sunlight and stars.rdquo;
The ground shook. The drakon was close now, stomping through the marsh, blasting trees and moss with its poison spray. Farther away, Annabeth heard the voice of the giant Polybotes, urging his followers forward. ldquo;THE SEA GODrsquo;S SON! HE IS CLOSE!rdquo;
ldquo;Annabeth,rdquo; Percy said urgently, ldquo;thatrsquo;s our cue to leave.rdquo;
Damasen took something from his belt. In his massive hand, the white shard looked like another toothpick; but when he offered it to Annabeth, she realized it was a swordmdash;a blade of dragon bone, honed to a deadly edge, with a simple grip of leather.
ldquo;One last gift for the child of Athena,rdquo; rumbled the giant. ldquo;I cannot have you walking to your death unarmed. Now, go! Before it is too late.rdquo;
Annabeth wanted to sob. She took the sword, but she couldnrsquo;t even make herself say thank you. She knew the giant was meant to fight at their side. That was the answermdash;but Damasen turned away.
ldquo;We must leave,rdquo; Bob urged as his kitten climbed onto his shoulder.
They ran for the entrance. Annabeth didnrsquo;t look back as she followed Percy and Bob into the swamp, but she heard Damasen behind them, shouting his battle cry at the advancing drakon, his voice cracking with despair as he faced his old enemy yet again.
PIPER DIDNrsquo;T KNOW MUCH about the Mediterranean, but she was pretty sure it wasnrsquo;t supposed to freeze in July.
Two days out to sea from Split, gray clouds swallowed the sky. The waves turned choppy. Cold drizzle sprayed across the deck, forming ice on the rails and the ropes.
ldquo;Itrsquo;s the scepter,rdquo; Nico murmured, hefting the ancient staff. ldquo;It has to be.rdquo;
Piper wondered. Ever since Jason and Nico had returned from Diocletianrsquo;s Palace, theyrsquo;d been acting nervous and cagey. Something major had happened theremdash;something Jason wouldnrsquo;t share with her.
It made sense that the scepter might have caused this weather change. The black orb on top seemed to leach the color right out of the air. The golden eagles at its base glinted coldly. The scepter could supposedly control the dead, and it definitely gave off bad vibes. Coach Hedge had taken one look at the thing, turned pale, and announced that he was going to his room to console himself with Chuck Norris videos. (Although Piper suspected that he was actually making Iris-messages back home to his girlfriend Mellie; the coach had been acting very agitated about her lately, though he wouldnrsquo;t tell Piper what was going on.)
So, yeshellip;maybe the scepter could cause a freak ice storm. But Piper didnrsquo;t think that was it. She feared something else was happeningmdash;something even worse.
ldquo;We canrsquo;t talk up here,rdquo; Jason decided. ldquo;Letrsquo;s postpone the meeting.rdquo;
Theyrsquo;d all gathered on the quarterdeck to discuss strategy as they got closer to Epirus. Now it was clearly not a good place to hang out. Wind swept frost across the deck. The sea churned beneath them.
Piper didnrsquo;t mind the waves so much. The rocking and pitching reminded her of surfing with her dad off the California coast. But she could tell Hazel wasnrsquo;t doing well. The poor girl got seasick even in calm waters. She looked like she was trying to swallow a billiard ball.
ldquo;Need tomdash;rdquo; Hazel gagged and pointed below.
ldquo;Yeah, go.rdquo; Nico kissed her cheek, which Piper found surprising. He hardly ever made gestures of affection, even to his sister. He seemed to hate physical contact. Kissing Hazelhellip;it was almost like he was saying good-bye.
ldquo;Irsquo;ll walk you down.rdquo; Frank put his arm around Hazelrsquo;s waist and helped her to the stairs.
Piper hoped Hazel would be okay. The last few nights, since that fight with Sciron, theyrsquo;d had some good talks together. Being the only two girls on board was kind of rough. Theyrsquo;d shared stories, complained about the guysrsquo; gross habits, and shed some tears together about Annabeth. Hazel had told her what it was like to control
Nico brushed some ice from his hair. He frowned at the scepter of Diocletian. ldquo;I should put this thing away. If itrsquo;s really causing the weather, maybe taking it below deck will helphellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Sure,rdquo; Jason said.
Nico glanced at Piper and Leo, as if worried what they might say when he was gone. Piper felt his defenses going up, like he was curling into a psychological ball, the way hersquo;d gone into a death trance in that bronze jar.
Once he headed below, Piper studied Jasonrsquo;s face. His eyes were full of concern. What had happened in Croatia?
Leo pulled a screwdriver from his belt. ldquo;So much for the big team meeting. Looks like itrsquo;s just us again.rdquo;
Just us again.
Piper remembered a wintry day in Chicago last December, when the three of them had landed in Millennial Park on their first quest.
Leo hadnrsquo;t changed much since then, except he seemed more comfortable in his role as a child of Hephaestus. Hersquo;d always had too much nervous energy. Now he knew how to use it. His hands were constantly in motion, pulling tools from his belt, working controls, tinkering with his beloved Archimedes sphere. Today hersquo;d removed it from the control panel and shut down Festus the figurehead for maintenancemdash;something about rewiring his processor for a motor-control upgrade with the sphere, whatever the heck that meant.
As for Jason, he looked thinner, taller, and more careworn. His hair had gone from close-cropped Roman style to longer and shaggier. The groove Sciron had shot across the left side of his scalp was interesting toomdash;almost like a rebellious streak. His icy blue eyes looked older, somehowmdash;full of worry and responsibility.
Piper knew what her friends whispered about Jasonmdash;he was too perfect, too straitlaced. If that had ever been true, it wasnrsquo;t anymore. Hersquo;d been battered on this journey, and not just physically. His hardships hadnrsquo;t weakened him, but hersquo;d been weathered and softened like leathermdash;as if he were becoming a more comfortable version of himself.
And Piper? She could only imagine what Leo and Jason thought when they looked at her. She definitely didnrsquo;t feel like the same person shersquo;d been last winter.
That first quest to rescue Hera seemed like centuries ago. So much had changed in seven monthshellip;she wondered how the gods could stand being alive for thousands of years. How much change had they seen? Maybe it wasnrsquo;t surprising that the Olympians seemed a little crazy. If Piper had lived through three millennia, she would have gone loopy.
She gazed into the cold rain. She would have given anything to be back at Camp Half-Blood, where the weather was controlled even in the winter. The images shersquo;d seen in her knife recentlyhellip;well, they didnrsquo;t give her much to look forward to.
Jason squeezed her shoulder. ldquo;Hey, itrsquo;ll be fine. Wersquo;re close to Epirus now. Another day or so, if Nicorsquo;s directions are right.rdquo;
ldquo;Yep.rdquo; Leo tinkered with his sphere, tapping and nudging one of the jewels on its surface. ldquo;By tomorrow morning, wersquo;ll reach the western coast of Greece. Then another hour inland, and bangmdash;House of Hades! Irsquo;ma get me the T-shirt!rdquo;
ldquo;Yay,rdquo; Piper muttered.
She wasnrsquo;t anxious to plunge into the darkness again. She still had nightmares about the nymphaeum and the hypogeum under Rome. In the blade of Katoptris, shersquo;d seen images similar to what Leo and Hazel had described from their dreamsmdash;a pale sorceress in a gold dress, her hands weaving golden light in the air like silk on a loom; a giant wrapped in shadows, marching down a long corridor lined with torches. As he passed each one, the flames died. She saw a huge cavern filled with monstersmdash;Cyclopes, Earthborn, and stranger thingsmdash;surrounding her and her friends, hopelessly outnumbering them.
Every time she saw those images, a voice in her head kept repeating one line over and over.
ldquo;Guys,rdquo; she said, ldquo;Irsquo;ve been thinking about the Prophecy of Seven.rdquo;
It took a lot to get Leorsquo;s attention away from his work, but that did the trick.
ldquo;What about it?rdquo; he asked. ldquo;Likehellip;good stuff, I hope?rdquo;
She readjusted her cornucopiarsquo;s shoulder strap. Sometimes the horn of plenty seemed so light she forgot about it. Other times it felt like an anvil, as if the river god Achelous was sending out bad thoughts, trying to punish her for taking his horn.
ldquo;In Katoptris,rdquo; she started, ldquo;I keep seeing that giant Clytiusmdash;the guy whorsquo;s wrapped in shadows. I know his weakness is fire, but in my visions, he snuffs out flames wherever he goes. Any kind of light just gets sucked into his cloud of darkness.rdquo;
ldquo;Sounds like Nico,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;You think theyrsquo;re related?rdquo;
Jason scowled. ldquo;Hey, man, cut Nico some slack. So, Piper, what about this giant? What are you thinking?rdquo;
She and Leo exchanged a quizzical look, like: Since when does Jason defend Nico di Angelo? She decided not to comment.
ldquo;I keep thinking about fire,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;How we expect Leo to beat this giant because hersquo;shellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Hot?rdquo; Leo suggested with a grin.
ldquo;Um, letrsquo;s go with flammable. Anyway, that line from the prophecy bothers me: To storm or fire the world must fall.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, we know all about it,rdquo; Leo promised. ldquo;Yoursquo;re gonna say Irsquo;m fire. And Jason here is storm.rdquo;
Piper nodded reluctantly. She knew that none of them liked talking about this, but they all must have felt it was the truth.
The ship pitched to starboard. Jason grabbed the icy railing. ldquo;So yoursquo;re worried one of us will endanger the quest, maybe accidentally destroy the world?rdquo;
ldquo;No,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;I think wersquo;ve been reading that line the wrong way. The worldhellip;the Earth. In Greek, the word for that would behellip;rdquo;
She hesitated, not wanting to say the name aloud, even at sea.
ldquo;Gaea.rdquo; Jasonrsquo;s eyes gleamed with sudden interest. ldquo;You mean, to storm or fire Gaea must fall?rdquo;
ldquo;Ohhellip;rdquo; Leo grinned even wider. ldquo;You know, I like your version a lot better. rsquo;Cause if Gaea falls to me, Mr. Fire, that is absolutely copacetic.rdquo;
ldquo;Or to mehellip;storm.rdquo; Jason kissed her. ldquo;Piper, thatrsquo;s brilliant! If yoursquo;re right, this is great news. We just have to figure out which of us destroys Gaea.rdquo;
ldquo;Maybe.rdquo; She felt uneasy getting their hopes up. ldquo;But, see, itrsquo;s storm or firehellip;rdquo;
She unsheathed Katoptris and set it on the console. Immediately, the blade flickered, showing the dark shape of the giant Clytius moving through a corridor, snuffing out torches.
ldquo;Irsquo;m worried about Leo and this fight with Clytius,rdquo; she said. ldquo;That line in the prophecy makes it sound like only one of you can succeed. And if the storm or fire part is connected to the third line, an oath to keep with a final breathhellip;rdquo;
She didnrsquo;t finish the thought, but from Jasonrsquo;s and Leorsquo;s expressions, she saw that they understood. If she was reading the prophecy right, either Leo or Jason would defeat Gaea. The other one would die.
LEO STARED AT THE DAGGER. ldquo;Okayhellip;so I donrsquo;t like your idea as much as I thought. You think one of us defeats Gaea and the other one dies? Or maybe one of us dies while defeating her? Ormdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Guys,rdquo; Jason said, ldquo;wersquo;ll drive ourselves crazy overthinking it. You know how prophecies are. Heroes always get in trouble trying to thwart them.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Leo muttered. ldquo;Wersquo;d hate to get in trouble. Wersquo;ve got it so good right now.rdquo;
ldquo;You know what I mean,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;The final breath line might not be connected to the storm and fire part. For all we know, the two of us arenrsquo;t even storm and fire. Percy can raise hurricanes.rdquo;
ldquo;And I could always set Coach Hedge on fire,rdquo; Leo volunteered. ldquo;Then he can be fire.rdquo;
The thought of a blazing satyr screaming, ldquo;Die, scumbag!rdquo; as he attacked Gaea was almost enough to make Piper laughmdash; almost.
ldquo;I hope Irsquo;m wrong,rdquo; she said cautiously. ldquo;But the whole quest started with us finding Hera and waking that giant king Porphyrion. I have a feeling the war will end with us too. For better or worse.rdquo;
ldquo;Hey,rdquo; Jason said, ldquo;personally, I like us.rdquo;
ldquo;Agreed,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Us is my favorite people.rdquo;
Piper managed a smile. She really did love these guys. She wished she could use her charmspeak on the Fates, describe a happy ending, and force them to make it come true.
Unfortunately, it was hard to imagine a happy ending with all the dark thoughts in her head. She worried that the giant Clytius had been put in their path to eliminate Leo as a threat. If so, that meant Gaea would also try to eliminate Jason. Without storm or fire, their quest couldnrsquo;t succeed.
And this wintry weather bothered her too.hellip; She felt certain it was being caused by something more than just Diocletianrsquo;s scepter. The cold wind, the mix of ice and rain seemed actively hostile, and somehow familiar.
That smell in the air, the thick smell ofhellip;
Piper should have understood what was happening sooner, but shersquo;d spent most of her life in Southern California with no major changes of season. She hadnrsquo;t grown up with that smellhellip;the smell of impending snow.
Every muscle in her body tensed. ldquo;Leo, sound the alarm.rdquo;
Piper hadnrsquo;t realized she was charmspeaking, but Leo immediately dropped his screwdriver and punched the alarm button. He frowned when nothing happened.
ldquo;Uh, itrsquo;s disconnected,rdquo; he remembered. ldquo;Festus is shut down. Gimme a minute to get the system back online.rdquo;
ldquo;We donrsquo;t have a minute! Firesmdash;we need vials of Greek fire. Jason, call the winds. Warm, southerly winds.rdquo;
ldquo;Wait, what?rdquo; Jason stared at her in confusion. ldquo;Piper, whatrsquo;s wrong?rdquo;
ldquo;Itrsquo;s her!rdquo; Piper snatched up her dagger. ldquo;Shersquo;s back! We have tomdash;rdquo;
Before she could finish, the boat listed to port. The temperature dropped so fast, the sails crackled with ice. The bronze shields along the rails popped like over-pressurized soda cans.
Jason drew his sword, but it was too late. A wave of ice particles swept over him, coating him like a glazed donut and freezing him in place. Under a layer of ice, his eyes were wide with amazement.
ldquo;Leo! Flames! Now!rdquo; Piper yelled.
Leorsquo;s right hand blazed, but the wind swirled around him and doused the fire. Leo clutched his Archimedes sphere as a funnel cloud of sleet lifted him off his feet.
ldquo;Hey!rdquo; he yelled. ldquo;Hey! Let me go!rdquo;
Piper ran toward him, but a voice in the storm said, ldquo;Oh, yes, Leo Valdez. I will let you go permanently.rdquo;
Leo shot skyward, like hersquo;d been launched from a catapult. He disappeared into the clouds.
ldquo;No!rdquo; Piper raised her knife, but there was nothing to att
Then he had returned to Camp Jupiter with his new girlfriend Piper and a whole bunch of Greek friends in a warship. Theyrsquo;d fired on the Forum and run away, leaving Reyna with a war on her hands.