She wondered whether she could make it to the ballista.
Then her enemies appeared, and she realized that no weapon would be enough.
Standing amidships was a girl in a flowing dress of white silk, her mane of black hair pinned back with a circlet of diamonds. Her eyes were the color of coffee, but without the warmth.
Behind her stood her brothersmdash;two young men with purple-feathered wings, stark white hair, and jagged swords of Celestial bronze.
ldquo;So good to see you again, ma chère,rdquo; said Khione, the goddess of snow. ldquo;Itrsquo;s time we had a very cold reunion.rdquo;
PIPER DIDNrsquo;T PLAN TO SHOOT BLUEBERRY MUFFINS. The cornucopia must have sensed her distress and thought she and her visitors could use some warm baked goods.
Half a dozen steamy muffins flew from the horn of plenty like buckshot. It wasnrsquo;t the most effective opening attack.
Khione simply leaned to one side. Most of the muffins sailed past her over the rail. Her brothers, the Boreads, each caught one and began to eat.
ldquo;Muffins,rdquo; said the bigger one. Cal, Piper remembered: short for Calais. He was dressed exactly as he had been in Quebecmdash;in cleats, sweatpants, and a red hockey jerseymdash;and had two black eyes and several broken teeth. ldquo;Muffins are good.rdquo;
ldquo;Ah, merci,rdquo; said the scrawny brothermdash;Zethes, she recalledmdash;who stood on the catapult platform, his purple wings spread. His white hair was still feathered in a horrible Disco Age mullet. The collar of his silk shirt stuck out over his breastplate. His chartreuse polyester pants were grotesquely tight, and his acne had only gotten worse. Despite that, he wriggled his eyebrows and smiled like he was the demigod of pickup artists.
ldquo;I knew the pretty girl would miss me.rdquo; He spoke Québécois French, which Piper translated effortlessly. Thanks to her mom, Aphrodite, the language of love was hardwired into her, though she didnrsquo;t want to speak it with Zethes.
ldquo;What are you doing?rdquo; Piper demanded. Then, in charmspeak: ldquo;Let my friends go.rdquo;
Zethes blinked. ldquo;We should let your friends go.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Cal agreed.
ldquo;No, you idiots!rdquo; Khione snapped. ldquo;She is charmspeaking. Use your wits.rdquo;
ldquo;Witshellip;rdquo; Cal frowned as if he wasnrsquo;t sure what wits were. ldquo;Muffins are better.rdquo;
He stuffed the whole thing in his mouth and began to chew.
Zethes picked a blueberry off the top of his and nibbled it delicately. ldquo;Ah, my beautiful Piperhellip;so long I have waited to see you again. Sadly, my sister is right. We cannot let your friends go. In fact we must take them to Quebec, where they shall be laughed at eternally. I am so sorry, but these are our orders.rdquo;
ldquo;Ordershellip;?rdquo;
Ever since last winter, Piper had expected Khione to show her frosty face sooner or later. When theyrsquo;d defeated her at the Wolf House in Sonoma, the snow goddess had vowed revenge. But why were Zethes and Cal here? In Quebec, the Boreads had seemed almost friendlymdash;at least compared to their subzero sister.
ldquo;Guys, listen,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;Your sister disobeyed Boreas. Shersquo;s working with the giants, trying to raise Gaea. Shersquo;s planning to take over your fatherrsquo;s throne.rdquo;
Khione laughed, soft and cold. ldquo;Dear Piper McLean. You would manipulate my weak-willed brothers with your charms, like a true daughter of the love goddess. Such a skillful liar.rdquo;
ldquo;Liar?rdquo; Piper cried. ldquo;You tried to kill us! Zethes, shersquo;s working for Gaea!rdquo;
Zethes winced. ldquo;Alas, beautiful girl. We all are working for Gaea now. I fear these orders are from our father, Boreas himself.rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo; Piper didnrsquo;t want to believe it, but Khionersquo;s smug smile told her it was true.
ldquo;At last my father saw the wisdom of my counsel,rdquo; Khione purred, ldquo;or at least he did before his Roman side began warring with his Greek side. I fear he is quite incapacitated now, but he left me in charge. He has ordered that the forces of the North Wind be used in the service of King Porphyrion, and of coursehellip;the Earth Mother.rdquo;
Piper gulped. ldquo;How are you even here?rdquo; She gestured at the ice all over the ship. ldquo;Itrsquo;s summer!rdquo;
Khione shrugged. ldquo;Our powers grow. The rules of nature are turned upside down. Once the Earth Mother wakes, we shall remake the world as we choose!rdquo;
ldquo;With hockey,rdquo; Cal said, his mouth still full. ldquo;And pizza. And muffins.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, yes,rdquo; Khione sneered. ldquo;I had to promise a few things to the big simpleton. And to Zethesmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, my needs are simple.rdquo; Zethes slicked back his hair and winked at Piper. ldquo;I should have kept you at our palace when we first met, my dear Piper. But soon we will go there again, together, and I shall romance you most incredibly.rdquo;
ldquo;Thanks, but no thanks,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;Now, let Jason go.rdquo;
She put all her power into the words, and Zethes obeyed. He snapped his fingers. Jason instantly defrosted. He crumpled to the floor, gasping and steaming; but at least he was alive.
ldquo;You imbecile!rdquo; Khione thrust out her hand, and Jason refroze, now flat on the deck like a bearskin rug. She wheeled on Zethes. ldquo;If you wish the girl as your prize, you must prove you can control her. Not the other way around!rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, of course.rdquo; Zethes looked chagrined.
ldquo;As for Jason Gracehellip;rdquo; Khionersquo;s brown eyes gleamed. ldquo;He and the rest of your friends will join our court of ice statues in Quebec. Jason will grace my throne room.rdquo;
ldquo;Clever,rdquo; Piper muttered. ldquo;Take you all day to think up that line?rdquo;
At least she knew Jason was still alive, which made Piper a little less panicky. The deep freeze could be reversed. That meant her other friends were probably still alive below deck. She just needed a plan to free them.
Unfortunately, she wasnrsquo;t Annabeth. She wasnrsquo;t so good at devising plans on the fly. She needed time to think.
ldquo;What about Leo?rdquo; she blurted. ldquo;Where did you send him?rdquo;
The snow goddess stepped lightly around Jason, examining him as if he were sidewalk art.
ldquo;Leo Valdez deserved a special punishment,rdquo; she said. ldquo;I have sent him to a place from which he can never return.rdquo;
Piper couldnrsquo;t breathe. Poor Leo. The idea of never seeing him again almost destroyed her. Khione mustrsquo;ve seen it in her face.
ldquo;Alas, my dear Piper!rdquo; She smiled in triumph. ldquo;But it is for the best. Leo could not be tolerated, even as an ice statuehellip;not after he insulted me. The fool refused to rule at my side! And his power over firehellip;rdquo; She shook her head. ldquo;He could not be allowed to reach the House of Hades. Irsquo;m afraid Lord Clytius likes fire even less than I do.rdquo;
Piper gripped her dagger.
Fire, she thought. Thanks for reminding me, you witch.
She scanned the deck. How to make fire? A box of Greek fire vials was secured by the forward ballista, but that was too far away. Even if she made it without getting frozen, Greek fire would burn everything, including the ship and all her friends. There had to be another way. Her eyes strayed to the prow.
Oh.
Festus the figurehead could blow some serious flames. Unfortunately, Leo had switched him off. Piper had no idea how to reactivate him. She would never have time to figure out the right controls at the shiprsquo;s console. She had vague memories of Leo tinkering around inside the dragonrsquo;s bronze skull, mumbling about a control disk; but even if Piper could make it to the prow, she would have no idea what she was doing.
Still, some instinct told her Festus was her best chance, if only she could figure out how to convince her captors to let her get close enoughhellip;
ldquo;Well!rdquo; Khione interrupted her thoughts. ldquo;I fear our time together is at a close. Zethes, if you wouldmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Wait!rdquo; Piper said.
A simple command, and it worked. The Boreads and Khione frowned at her, waiting.
Piper was fairly sure she could control the brothers with charmspeak, but Khione was a problem. Charmspeak worked poorly if the person wasnrsquo;t attracted to you. It worked poorly on a powerful being like a god. And it worked poorly when your victim knew about charmspeak and was actively on guard against it. All of the above applied to Khione.
What would Annabeth do?
Delay, Piper thought. When in doubt, talk some more.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re afraid of my friends,rdquo; she said. ldquo;So why not just kill them?rdquo;
Khione laughed. ldquo;You are not a god, or you would understand. Death is so short, sohellip;unsatisfying. Your puny mortal souls flit off to the Underworld, and what happens then? The best I can hope for is that you go to the Fields of Punishment or Asphodel, but you demigods are insufferably noble. More likely you will go to Elysiummdash;or get reborn in a new life. Why would I want to reward your friends that way? Whyhellip;when I can punish them eternally?rdquo;
ldquo;And me?rdquo; Piper hated to ask. ldquo;Why am I still alive and unfrozen?rdquo;
Khione glanced at her brothers with annoyance. ldquo;Zethes has claimed you, for one thing.rdquo;
ldquo;I kiss magnificently,rdquo; Zethes promised. ldquo;You will see, beautiful one.rdquo;
The idea made Piperrsquo;s stomach churn.
ldquo;But that is not the only reason,rdquo; Khione said. ldquo;It is because I hate you, Piper. Deeply and truly. Without you, Jason would have stayed with me in Quebec.rdquo;
ldquo;Delusional, much?rdquo;
Khionersquo;s eyes turned as hard as the diamonds in her circlet. ldquo;You are a meddler, the daughter of a useless goddess. What can you do alone? Nothing. Of all the seven demigods, you have no purpose, no power. I wish you to stay on this ship, adrift and helpless, while Gaea rises and the world ends. And just to be sure you are well out of the wayhellip;rdquo;
She gestured to Zethes, who plucked something from the airmdash;a frozen sphere the size of a softball, covered in icy spikes.
ldquo;A bomb,rdquo; Zethes explained, ldquo;especially for you, my love.rdquo;
ldquo;Bombs!rdquo; Cal laughed. ldquo;A good day! Bombs and muffins!rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Piper lowered her dagger, which seemed even more useless than usual. ldquo;Flowers wouldrsquo;ve been fine.rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, it will not kill the pretty girl.rdquo; Zethes frowned. ldquo;Wellhellip;I am fairly sure of this. But when the fragile container cracks, inhellip;ah, roughly not very longhellip;it will unleash the full force of the northern winds. This ship will be blown very far off course. Very, very far.rdquo;
ldquo;Indeed.rdquo; Khionersquo;s voice prickled with false sympathy. ldquo;We will take your friends for our statue collection, then unleash the winds and bid you good-bye! You can watch the end of the world fromhellip;well, the end of the world! Perhaps you can charmspeak the fish, and feed yourself with your silly cornucopia. You can pace the deck of this empty ship and watch our victory in the blade of your dagger. When Gaea has arisen and the world you knew is dead, then Z
She came close to snappingmdash;flying at her enemies in a rage and getting herself killed.
She looked at Khionersquo;s smug expression and she realized the goddess was hoping for that. She wanted Piper to break. She wanted entertainment.
Piperrsquo;s spine turned to steel. She remembered the girls who used to make fun of her at the Wilderness School. She remembered Drew, the cruel head counselor she had replaced in Aphroditersquo;s cabin; and Medea, who had charmed Jason and Leo in Chicago; and Jessica, her dadrsquo;s old assistant, who had always treated her like a useless brat. All her life, Piper had been looked down upon, told she was useless.
It has never been true, another voice whisperedmdash;a voice that sounded like her motherrsquo;s. Each of them berated you because they feared you and envied you. So does Khione. Use that!
Piper didnrsquo;t feel like it, but she managed a laugh. She tried it again, and the laughter came more easily. Soon she was doubled over, giggling and snorting.
Calais joined in, until Zethes elbowed him.
Khionersquo;s smile wavered. ldquo;What? What is so funny? I have doomed you!rdquo;
ldquo;Doomed me!rdquo; Piper laughed again. ldquo;Oh, godshellip;sorry.rdquo; She took a shaky breath and tried to stop giggling. ldquo;Oh, boyhellip;okay. You really think Irsquo;m powerless? You really think Irsquo;m useless? Gods of Olympus, your brain must have freezer burn. You donrsquo;t know my secret, do you?rdquo;
Khionersquo;s eyes narrowed.
ldquo;You have no secret,rdquo; she said. ldquo;You are lying.rdquo;
ldquo;Okay, whatever,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;Yeah, go ahead and take my friends. Leave me herehellip;useless.rdquo; She snorted. ldquo;Yeah. Gaea will be really pleased with you.rdquo;
Snow swirled around the goddess. Zethes and Calais glanced at each other nervously.
ldquo;Sister,rdquo; Zethes said, ldquo;if she really has some secretmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Pizza?rdquo; Cal speculated. ldquo;Hockey?rdquo;
ldquo;mdash;then we must know,rdquo; Zethes continued.
Khione obviously didnrsquo;t buy it. Piper tried to keep a straight face, but she made her eyes dance with mischief and humor.
Go ahead, she dared. Call my bluff.
ldquo;What secret?rdquo; Khione demanded. ldquo;Reveal it to us!rdquo;
Piper shrugged. ldquo;Suit yourself.rdquo; She pointed casually toward the prow. ldquo;Follow me, ice people.rdquo;
SHE PUSHED BETWEEN THE BOREADS, which was like walking through a meat freezer. The air around them was so cold, it burned her face. She felt like she was breathing pure snow.
Piper tried not to look down at Jasonrsquo;s frozen body as she passed. She tried not to think about her friends below, or Leo shot into the sky to a place of no return. She definitely tried not to think about the Boreads and the snow goddess who were following her.
She fixed her eyes on the figurehead.
The ship rocked under her feet. A single gust of summer air made it through the chill, and Piper breathed it in, taking it as a good omen. It was still summer out there. Khione and her brothers did not belong here.
Piper knew she couldnrsquo;t win a straight fight against Khione and two winged guys with swords. She wasnrsquo;t as clever as Annabeth, or as good at problem solving as Leo. But she did have power. And she intended to use it.
Last night, during her talk with Hazel, Piper had realized that the secret of charmspeak was a lot like using the Mist. In the past, Piper had had a lot of trouble making her charms work, because she always ordered her enemies to do what she wanted. She would yell Donrsquo;t kill us when the monsterrsquo;s fondest wish was to kill them. She would put all her power into her voice and hope it was enough to overwhelm her enemyrsquo;s will.
Sometimes it worked, but it was exhausting and unreliable. Aphrodite wasnrsquo;t about head-on confrontation. Aphrodite was about subtlety and guile and charm. Piper decided she shouldnrsquo;t focus on making people do what she wanted. She needed to push them to do the things they wanted.
A great theory, if she could make it work.hellip;
She stopped at the foremast and faced Khione. ldquo;Wow, I just realized why you hate us so much,rdquo; she said, filling her voice with pity. ldquo;We humiliated you pretty badly in Sonoma.rdquo;
Khionersquo;s eyes glinted like iced espresso. She shot an uneasy look at her brothers.
Piper laughed. ldquo;Oh, you didnrsquo;t tell them!rdquo; she guessed. ldquo;I donrsquo;t blame you. You had a giant king on your side, plus an army of wolves and Earthborn, and you still couldnrsquo;t beat us.rdquo;
ldquo;Silence!rdquo; the goddess hissed.
The air turned misty. Piper felt frost gathering on her eyebrows and freezing her ear canals, but she feigned a smile.
ldquo;Whatever.rdquo; She winked at Zethes. ldquo;But it was pretty funny.rdquo;
ldquo;The beautiful girl must be lying,rdquo; Zethes said. ldquo;Khione was not beaten at the Wolf House. She said it was ahellip;ah, what is the term? A tactical retreat.rdquo;
ldquo;Treats?rdquo; Cal asked. ldquo;Treats are good.rdquo;
Piper pushed the big guyrsquo;s chest playfully. ldquo;No, Cal. He means that your sister ran away.rdquo;
ldquo;I did not!rdquo; Khione shrieked.
ldquo;What did Hera call you?rdquo; Piper mused. ldquo;Rightmdash;a D-list goddess!rdquo;
She burst out laughing again, and her amusement was so genuine, Zethes and Cal started laughing too.
ldquo;That is très bon!rdquo; Zethes said. ldquo;A D-list goddess. Ha!rdquo;
ldquo;Ha!rdquo; Cal said. ldquo;Sister ran away! Ha!rdquo;
Khionersquo;s white dress began to steam. Ice formed over Zethesrsquo;s and Calrsquo;s mouths, plugging them up.
ldquo;Show us this secret of yours, Piper McLean,rdquo; Khione growled. ldquo;Then pray I leave you on this ship intact. If you are toying with us, I will show you the horrors of frostbite. I doubt Zethes will still want you if you have no fingers or toeshellip;perhaps no nose or ears.rdquo;
Zethes and Cal spat the ice plugs out of their mouths.
ldquo;The pretty girl would look less pretty without a nose,rdquo; Zethes admitted.
Piper had seen pictures of frostbite victims. The threat terrified her, but she didnrsquo;t let it show.
ldquo;Come on, then.rdquo; She led the way to the prow, humming one of her dadrsquo;s favorite songsmdash;ldquo;Summertime.rdquo;
When she got to the figurehead, she put her hand on Festusrsquo;s neck. His bronze scales were cold. There was no hum of machinery. His ruby eyes were dull and dark.
ldquo;You remember our dragon?rdquo; Piper asked.
Khione scoffed. ldquo;This cannot be your secret. The dragon is broken. Its fire is gone.rdquo;
ldquo;Well, yeshellip;rdquo; Piper stroked the dragonrsquo;s snout.
She didnrsquo;t have Leorsquo;s power to make gears turn or circuits spark. She couldnrsquo;t sense anything about the workings of a machine. All she could do was speak her heart and tell the dragon what he most wanted to hear. ldquo;But Festus is more than a machine. Hersquo;s a living creature.rdquo;
ldquo;Ridiculous,rdquo; the goddess spat. ldquo;Zethes, Calmdash;gather the frozen demigods from below. Then we shall break open the sphere of winds.rdquo;
ldquo;You could do that, boys,rdquo; Piper agreed. ldquo;But then you wouldnrsquo;t see Khione humiliated. I know yoursquo;d like that.rdquo;
The Boreads hesitated.
ldquo;Hockey?rdquo; Cal asked.
ldquo;Almost as good,rdquo; Piper promised. ldquo;You fought at the side of Jason and the Argonauts, didnrsquo;t you? On a ship like this, the first Argo.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Zethes agreed. ldquo;The Argo. Much like this, but we did not have a dragon.rdquo;
ldquo;Donrsquo;t listen to her!rdquo; Khione snapped.
Piper felt ice forming on her lips.
ldquo;You could shut me up,rdquo; she said quickly. ldquo;But you want to know my secret powermdash;how I will destroy you, and Gaea, and the giants.rdquo;
Hatred seethed in Khionersquo;s eyes, but she withheld her frost.
ldquo;Youmdash;havemdash;nomdash;power,rdquo; she insisted.
ldquo;Spoken like a D-list goddess,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;One who never gets taken seriously, who always wants more power.rdquo;
She turned to Festus and ran her hand behind his metal ears. ldquo;Yoursquo;re a good friend, Festus. No one can truly deactivate you. Yoursquo;re more than a machine. Khione doesnrsquo;t understand that.rdquo;
She turned to the Boreads. ldquo;She doesnrsquo;t value you, either, you know. She thinks she can boss you around because yoursquo;re demigods, not full-fledged gods. She doesnrsquo;t understand that yoursquo;re a powerful team.rdquo;
ldquo;A team,rdquo; Cal grunted. ldquo;Like the Ca-na-di-ens.rdquo;
He had to struggle with the word since it was more than two syllables. He grinned and looked very pleased with himself.
ldquo;Exactly,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;Just like a hockey team. The whole is greater than the parts.rdquo;
ldquo;Like a pizza,rdquo; Cal added.
Piper laughed. ldquo;You are smart, Cal! Even I underestimated you.rdquo;
ldquo;Wait, now,rdquo; Zethes protested. ldquo;I am smart also. And good-looking.rdquo;
ldquo;Very smart,rdquo; Piper agreed, ignoring the good-looking part. ldquo;So put down the wind bomb, and watch Khione get humiliated.rdquo;
Zethes grinned. He crouched and rolled the ice sphere across the deck.
ldquo;You fool!rdquo; Khione yelled.
Before the goddess could go after the sphere, Piper cried, ldquo;Our secret weapon, Khione! Wersquo;re not just a bunch of demigods. Wersquo;re a team. Just like Festus isnrsquo;t only a collection of parts. Hersquo;s alive. Hersquo;s my friend. And when his friends are in trouble, especially Leo, he can wake up on his own.rdquo;
She willed all her confidence into her voicemdash;all her love for the metal dragon and everything hersquo;d done for them.
The rational part of her knew this was hopeless. How could you start a machine with emotions?
But Aphrodite wasnrsquo;t rational. She ruled through emotions. She was the oldest and most primordial of the Olympians, born from the blood of Ouranos churning in the sea. Her power was more ancient than that of Hephaestus, or Athena, or even Zeus.
For a terrible moment, nothing happened. Khione glared at her. The Boreads began to come out of their daze, looking disappointed.
ldquo;Never mind our plan,rdquo; Khione snarled. ldquo;Kill her!rdquo;
As the Boreads raised their swords, the dragonrsquo;s metal skin grew warm under Piperrsquo;s hand. She dove out of the way, tackling the snow goddess, as Festus turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees and blasted the Boreads, vaporizing them on the spot. For some reason, Zethesrsquo;s sword was spared. It clunked to the deck, still steaming.
Piper scrambled to her feet. She spotted the sphere of winds at the base of the foremast. She ran for it, but before she could get close, Khione materialized in front of her in a swirl of frost. Her skin glowed bright enough to cause snow blindness.
ldquo;You miserable girl,rdquo; she hissed. ldquo;You think you can defeat memdash;a goddess?rdquo;
At Piperrsquo;s back, Festus roared and blew steam, but Piper knew he couldnrsquo;t breathe fire again without hitting her too.
About twenty feet behind the goddess, the ice spher
The goddessrsquo;s face was only six inches from hers. Khione smiled, knowing she had won.
ldquo;A child of Aphrodite,rdquo; she chided. ldquo;You are nothing.rdquo;
Festus creaked again. Piper could swear he was trying to shout encouragement.
Suddenly her chest grew warmmdash;not with anger or fear, but with love for that dragon; and Jason, who was depending on her; and her friends trapped below; and Leo, who was lost and would need her help.
Maybe love was no match for icehellip;but Piper had used it to wake a metal dragon. Mortals did superhuman feats in the name of love all the time. Mothers lifted cars to save their children. And Piper was more than just mortal. She was a demigod. A hero.
The ice melted on her blade. Her arm steamed under Khionersquo;s grip.
ldquo;Still underestimating me,rdquo; Piper told the goddess. ldquo;You really need to work on that.rdquo;
Khionersquo;s smug expression faltered as Piper drove her dagger straight down.
The blade touched Khionersquo;s chest, and the goddess exploded in a miniature blizzard. Piper collapsed, dazed from the cold. She heard Festus clacking and whirring, the reactivated alarm bells ringing.
The bomb.
Piper struggled to rise. The sphere was ten feet away, hissing and spinning as the winds inside began to stir.
Piper dove for it.
Her fingers closed around the bomb just as the ice shattered and the winds exploded.
PERCY FELT HOMESICK FOR THE SWAMP.
He never thought hersquo;d miss sleeping in a giantrsquo;s leather bed in a drakon-bone hut in a festering cesspool, but right now that sounded like Elysium.
He and Annabeth and Bob stumbled along in the darkness, the air thick and cold, the ground alternating patches of pointy rocks and pools of muck. The terrain seemed to be designed so that Percy could never let his guard down. Even walking ten feet was exhausting.
Percy had started out from the giantrsquo;s hut feeling strong again, his head clear, his belly full of drakon jerky from their packs of provisions. Now his legs were sore. Every muscle ached. He pulled a makeshift tunic of drakon leather over his shredded T-shirt, but it did nothing to keep out the chill.
His focus narrowed to the ground in front of him. Nothing existed except for that and Annabeth at his side.
Whenever he felt like giving up, plopping himself down, and dying (which was, like, every ten minutes), he reached over and took her hand, just to remember there was warmth in the world.
After Annabethrsquo;s talk with Damasen, Percy was worried about her. Annabeth didnrsquo;t give in to despair easily, but as they walked, she wiped tears from her eyes, trying not to let Percy see. He knew she hated it when her plans didnrsquo;t work out. She was convinced they needed Damasenrsquo;s help, but the giant had turned them down.
Part of Percy was relieved. He was concerned enough about Bobrsquo;s staying on their side once they reached the Doors of Death. He wasnrsquo;t sure he wanted a giant as his wingman, even if that giant could cook a mean bowl of stew.
He wondered what had happened after they left Damasenrsquo;s hut. He hadnrsquo;t heard their pursuers in hours, but he could sense their hatredhellip;especially Polybotesrsquo;s. That giant was back there somewhere, following, pushing them deeper into Tartarus.
Percy tried to think of good things to keep his spirits upmdash;the lake at Camp Half-Blood, the time hersquo;d kissed Annabeth underwater. He tried to imagine the two of them at New Rome together, walking through the hills and holding hands. But Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood both seemed like dreams. He felt as if only Tartarus existed. This was the real worldmdash;death, darkness, cold, pain. Hersquo;d been imagining all the rest.
He shivered. No. That was the pit speaking to him, sapping his resolve. He wondered how Nico had survived down here alone without going insane. That kid had more strength than Percy had given him credit for. The deeper they traveled, the harder it became to stay focused.
ldquo;This place is worse than the River Cocytus,rdquo; he muttered.
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Bob called back happily. ldquo;Much worse! It means we are close.rdquo;
Close to what? Percy wondered. But he didnrsquo;t have the strength to ask. He noticed Small Bob the cat had hidden himself in Bobrsquo;s coveralls again, which reinforced Percyrsquo;s opinion that the kitten was the smartest one in their group.
Annabeth laced her fingers through his. In the light of his bronze sword, her face was beautiful.
ldquo;Wersquo;re together,rdquo; she reminded him. ldquo;Wersquo;ll get through this.rdquo;
Hersquo;d been so worried about lifting her spirits, and here she was reassuring him.
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; he agreed. ldquo;Piece of cake.rdquo;
ldquo;But next time,rdquo; she said, ldquo;I want to go somewhere different on a date.rdquo;
ldquo;Paris was nice,rdquo; he recalled.
She managed a smile. Months ago, before Percy got amnesia, theyrsquo;d had dinner in Paris one night, compliments of Hermes. That seemed like another lifetime.
ldquo;Irsquo;d settle for New Rome,rdquo; she offered. ldquo;As long as yoursquo;re there with me.rdquo;
Man, Annabeth was awesome. For a moment, Percy actually remembered what it was like to feel happy. He had an amazing girlfriend. They could have a future together.
Then the darkness dispersed with a massive sigh, like the last breath of a dying god. In front of them was a clearingmdash;a barren field of dust and stones. In the center, about twenty yards away, knelt the gruesome figure of a woman, her clothes tattered, her limbs emaciated, her skin leathery green. Her head was bent as she sobbed quietly, and the sound shattered all Percyrsquo;s hopes.
He realized that life was pointless. His struggles were for nothing. This woman cried as if mourning the death of the entire world.
ldquo;Wersquo;re here,rdquo; Bob announced. ldquo;Akhlys can help.rdquo;
IF THE SOBBING GHOUL WAS BOBrsquo;S IDEA OF HELP, Percy was pretty sure he didnrsquo;t want it.
Nevertheless, Bob trudged forward. Percy felt obliged to follow. If nothing else, this area was less darkmdash;not exactly light, but with more of a soupy white fog.
ldquo;Akhlys!rdquo; Bob called.
The creature raised her head, and Percyrsquo;s stomach screamed, Help me!
Her body was bad enough. She looked like the victim of a faminemdash;limbs like sticks, swollen knees and knobby elbows, rags for clothes, broken fingernails and toenails. Dust was caked on her skin and piled on her shoulders as if shersquo;d taken a shower at the bottom of an hourglass.
Her face was utter desolation. Her eyes were sunken and rheumy, pouring out tears. Her nose dripped like a waterfall. Her stringy gray hair was matted to her skull in greasy tufts, and her cheeks were raked and bleeding as if shersquo;d been clawing herself.
Percy couldnrsquo;t stand to meet her eyes, so he lowered his gaze. Across her knees lay an ancient shieldmdash;a battered circle of wood and bronze, painted with the likeness of Akhlys herself holding a shield, so the image seemed to go on forever, smaller and smaller.
ldquo;That shield,rdquo; Annabeth murmured. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s his. I thought it was just a story.rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, no,rdquo; the old hag wailed. ldquo;The shield of Hercules. He painted me on its surface, so his enemies would see me in their final momentsmdash;the goddess of misery.rdquo; She coughed so hard, it made Percyrsquo;s chest hurt. ldquo;As if Hercules knew true misery. Itrsquo;s not even a good likeness!rdquo;
Percy gulped. When he and his friends had encountered Hercules at the Straits of Gibraltar, it hadnrsquo;t gone well. The exchange had involved a lot of yelling, death threats, and high-velocity pineapples.
ldquo;Whatrsquo;s his shield doing here?rdquo; Percy asked.
The goddess stared at him with her wet milky eyes. Her cheeks dripped blood, making red polka dots on her tattered dress. ldquo;He doesnrsquo;t need it anymore, does he? It came here when his mortal body was burned. A reminder, I suppose, that no shield is sufficient. In the end, misery overtakes all of you. Even Hercules.rdquo;
Percy inched closer to Annabeth. He tried to remember why they were here, but the sense of despair made it difficult to think. Hearing Akhlys speak, he no longer found it strange that she had clawed her own cheeks. The goddess radiated pure pain.
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; Percy said, ldquo;we shouldnrsquo;t have come here.rdquo;
From somewhere inside Bobrsquo;s uniform, the skeleton kitten mewled in agreement.
The Titan shifted and winced as if Small Bob was clawing his armpit. ldquo;Akhlys controls the Death Mist,rdquo; he insisted. ldquo;She can hide you.rdquo;
ldquo;Hide them?rdquo; Akhlys made a gurgling sound. She was either laughing or choking to death. ldquo;Why would I do that?rdquo;
ldquo;They must reach the Doors of Death,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;To return to the mortal world.rdquo;
ldquo;Impossible!rdquo; Akhlys said. ldquo;The armies of Tartarus will find you. They will kill you.rdquo;
Annabeth turned the blade of her drakon-bone sword, which Percy had to admit made her look pretty intimidating and hot in a ldquo;Barbarian Princessrdquo; kind of way. ldquo;So I guess your Death Mist is pretty useless, then,rdquo; she said.
The goddess bared her broken yellow teeth. ldquo;Useless? Who are you?rdquo;
ldquo;A daughter of Athena.rdquo; Annabethrsquo;s voice sounded bravemdash;though how she did it, Percy didnrsquo;t know. ldquo;I didnrsquo;t walk halfway across Tartarus to be told whatrsquo;s impossible by some minor goddess.rdquo;
The dust quivered at their feet. Fog swirled around them with a sound like agonized wailing.
ldquo;Minor goddess?rdquo; Akhlysrsquo;s gnarled fingernails dug into Herculesrsquo;s shield, gouging the metal. ldquo;I was old before the Titans were born, you ignorant girl. I was old when Gaea first woke. Misery is eternal. Existence is misery. I was born of the eldest onesmdash;of Chaos and Night. I wasmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, yes,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Sadness and misery, blah blah blah. But you still donrsquo;t have enough power to hide two demigods with your Death Mist. Like I said: useless.rdquo;
Percy cleared his throat. ldquo;Uh, Annabethmdash;rdquo;
She flashed him a warning look: Work with me. He realized how terrified she was, but she had no choice. This was their best shot at stirring the goddess into action.
ldquo;I meanhellip;Annabeth is right!rdquo; Percy volunteered. ldquo;Bob brought us all this way because he thought you could help. But I guess yoursquo;re too busy staring at that shield and crying. I canrsquo;t blame you. It looks just like you.rdquo;
Akhlys wailed and glared at the Titan. ldquo;Why did you inflict these annoying children on me?rdquo;
Bob made a sound somewhere between a rumble and a whimper. ldquo;I thoughtmdash;I thoughtmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;The Death Mist is not for helping!rdquo; Akhlys shrieked. ldquo;It shrouds mortals in misery as their souls pass into the Underworld. It is the very breath of Tartarus, of death, of despair!rdquo;
ldquo;Awesome,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Could we get two orders of that to go?rdquo;
Akhlys hissed. ldquo;Ask me for a more sensible gift. I am also the goddess of poisons. I could give you deathmdash;thousands of
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s very nice of you,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;But Irsquo;ve had enough poison for one trip. Now, can you hide us in your Death Mist, or not?rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, itrsquo;ll be fun,rdquo; Annabeth said.
The goddessrsquo;s eyes narrowed. ldquo;Fun?rdquo;
ldquo;Sure,rdquo; Annabeth promised. ldquo;If we fail, think how great it will be for you, gloating over our spirits when we die in agony. Yoursquo;ll get to say lsquo;I told you sorsquo; for eternity.rdquo;
ldquo;Or, if we succeed,rdquo; Percy added, ldquo;think of all the suffering yoursquo;ll bring to the monsters down here. We intend to seal the Doors of Death. Thatrsquo;s going to cause a lot of wailing and moaning.rdquo;
Akhlys considered. ldquo;I enjoy suffering. Wailing is also good.rdquo;
ldquo;Then itrsquo;s settled,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Make us invisible.rdquo;
Akhlys struggled to her feet. The shield of Hercules rolled away and wobbled to a stop in a patch of poison flowers. ldquo;It is not so simple,rdquo; the goddess said. ldquo;The Death Mist comes at the moment you are closest to your end. Your eyes will be clouded only then. The world will fade.rdquo;
Percyrsquo;s mouth felt dry. ldquo;Okay. Buthellip;wersquo;ll be shrouded from the monsters?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, yes,rdquo; Akhlys said. ldquo;If you survive the process, you will be able to pass unnoticed among the armies of Tartarus. It is hopeless, of course, but if you are determined, then come. I will show you the way.rdquo;
ldquo;The way to where, exactly?rdquo; Annabeth asked.
The goddess was already shuffling into the gloom.
Percy turned to look at Bob, but the Titan was gone. How does a ten-foot-tall silver dude with a very loud kitten disappear?
ldquo;Hey!rdquo; Percy yelled to Akhlys. ldquo;Wherersquo;s our friend?rdquo;
ldquo;He cannot take this path,rdquo; the goddess called back. ldquo;He is not mortal. Come, little fools. Come experience the Death Mist.rdquo;
Annabeth exhaled and grabbed his hand. ldquo;Wellhellip;how bad can it be?rdquo;
The question was so ridiculous Percy laughed, even though it hurt his lungs. ldquo;Yeah. Next date, thoughmdash;dinner in New Rome.rdquo;
They followed the goddessrsquo;s dusty footprints through the poison flowers, deeper into the fog.
PERCY MISSED BOB.
Hersquo;d gotten used to having the Titan on his side, lighting their way with his silver hair and his fearsome war broom.
Now their only guide was an emaciated corpse lady with serious self-esteem issues.
As they struggled across the dusty plain, the fog became so thick that Percy had to resist the urge to swat it away with his hands. The only reason he was able to follow Akhlysrsquo;s path was because poisonous plants sprang up wherever she walked.
If they were still on the body of Tartarus, Percy figured they must be on the bottom of his footmdash;a rough, calloused expanse where only the most disgusting plant life grew.
Finally they arrived at the end of the big toe. At least thatrsquo;s what it looked like to Percy. The fog dissipated, and they found themselves on a peninsula that jutted out over a pitch-black void.
ldquo;Here we are.rdquo; Akhlys turned and leered at them. Blood from her cheeks dripped on her dress. Her sickly eyes looked moist and swollen but somehow excited. Can Misery look excited?
ldquo;Uhhellip;great,rdquo; Percy asked. ldquo;Where is here?rdquo;
ldquo;The verge of final death,rdquo; Akhlys said. ldquo;Where Night meets the void below Tartarus.rdquo;
Annabeth inched forward and peered over the cliff. ldquo;I thought there was nothing below Tartarus.rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, certainly there is.hellip;rdquo; Akhlys coughed. ldquo;Even Tartarus had to rise from somewhere. This is the edge of the earliest darkness, which was my mother. Below lies the realm of Chaos, my father. Here, you are closer to nothingness than any mortal has ever been. Can you not feel it?rdquo;
Percy knew what she meant. The void seemed to be pulling at him, leaching the breath from his lungs and the oxygen from his blood. He looked at Annabeth and saw that her lips were tinged blue.
ldquo;We canrsquo;t stay here,rdquo; he said.
ldquo;No, indeed!rdquo; Akhlys said. ldquo;Donrsquo;t you feel the Death Mist? Even now, you pass between. Look!rdquo;
White smoke gathered around Percyrsquo;s feet. As it coiled up his legs, he realized the smoke wasnrsquo;t surrounding him. It was coming from him. His whole body was dissolving. He held up his hands and found they were fuzzy and indistinct. He couldnrsquo;t even tell how many fingers he had. Hopefully still ten.
He turned to Annabeth and stifled a yelp. ldquo;Yoursquo;remdash;uhmdash;rdquo;
He couldnrsquo;t say it. She looked dead.
Her skin was sallow, her eye sockets dark and sunken. Her beautiful hair had dried into a skein of cobwebs. She looked like shersquo;d been stuck in a cool, dark mausoleum for decades, slowly withering into a desiccated husk. When she turned to look at him, her features momentarily blurred into mist.
Percyrsquo;s blood moved like sap in his veins.
For years, he had worried about Annabeth dying. When you were a demigod, that went with the territory. Most half-bloods didnrsquo;t live long. You always knew that the next monster you fought could be your last. But seeing Annabeth like this was too painful. Hersquo;d rather stand in the River Phlegethon, or get attacked by arai, or be trampled by giants.
ldquo;Oh, gods,rdquo; Annabeth sobbed. ldquo;Percy, the way you lookhellip;rdquo;
Percy studied his arms. All he saw were blobs of white mist, but he guessed that to Annabeth he looked like a corpse. He took a few steps, though it was difficult. His body felt insubstantial, like he was made of helium and cotton candy.
ldquo;Irsquo;ve looked better,rdquo; he decided. ldquo;I canrsquo;t move very well. But Irsquo;m all right.rdquo;
Akhlys clucked. ldquo;Oh, yoursquo;re definitely not all right.rdquo;
Percy frowned. ldquo;But wersquo;ll pass unseen now? We can get to the Doors of Death?rdquo;
ldquo;Well, perhaps you could,rdquo; the goddess said, ldquo;if you lived that long, which you wonrsquo;t.rdquo;
Akhlys spread her gnarled fingers. More plants bloomed along the edge of the pitmdash;hemlock, nightshade, and oleander spreading toward Percyrsquo;s feet like a deadly carpet. ldquo;The Death Mist is not simply a disguise, you see. It is a state of being. I could not bring you this gift unless death followedmdash;true death.rdquo;
ldquo;Itrsquo;s a trap,rdquo; Annabeth said.
The goddess cackled. ldquo;Didnrsquo;t you expect me to betray you?rdquo;
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Annabeth and Percy said together.
ldquo;Well, then, it was hardly a trap! More of an inevitability. Misery is inevitable. Pain ismdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, yeah,rdquo; Percy growled. ldquo;Letrsquo;s get to the fighting.rdquo;
He drew Riptide, but the blade was made of smoke. When he slashed at Akhlys, the sword just floated across her like a gentle breeze.
The goddessrsquo;s ruined mouth split into a grin. ldquo;Did I forget to mention? You are only mist nowmdash;a shadow before death. Perhaps if you had time, you could learn to control your new form. But you do not have time. Since you cannot touch me, I fear any fight with Misery will be quite one-sided.rdquo;
Her fingernails grew into talons. Her jaw unhinged, and her yellow teeth elongated into fangs.
AKHLYS LUNGED AT PERCY, and for a split second he thought: Well, hey, Irsquo;m just smoke. She canrsquo;t touch me, right?
He imagined the Fates up in Olympus, laughing at his wishful thinking: LOL, NOOB!
The goddessrsquo;s claws raked across his chest and stung like boiling water.
Percy stumbled backward, but he wasnrsquo;t used to being smoky. His legs moved too slowly. His arms felt like tissue paper. In desperation, he threw his backpack at her, thinking maybe it would turn solid when it left his hand, but no such luck. It fell with a soft thud.
Akhlys snarled, crouching to spring. She would have bitten Percyrsquo;s face off if Annabeth hadnrsquo;t charged and screamed, ldquo;HEY!rdquo; right in the goddessrsquo;s ear.
Akhlys flinched, turning toward the sound.
She lashed out at Annabeth, but Annabeth was better at moving than Percy. Maybe she wasnrsquo;t feeling as smoky, or maybe shersquo;d just had more combat training. Shersquo;d been at Camp Half-Blood since she was seven. Probably shersquo;d had classes Percy never got, like How to Fight While Partially Made of Smoke.
Annabeth dove straight between the goddessrsquo;s legs and somersaulted to her feet. Akhlys turned and attacked, but Annabeth dodged again, like a matador.
Percy was so stunned, he lost a few precious seconds. He stared at corpse Annabeth, shrouded in mist but moving as fast and confidently as ever. Then it occurred to him why she was doing this: to buy them time. Which meant Percy needed to help.
He thought furiously, trying to come up with a way to defeat Misery. How could he fight when he couldnrsquo;t touch anything?
On Akhlysrsquo;s third attack, Annabeth wasnrsquo;t so lucky. She tried to veer aside, but the goddess grabbed Annabethrsquo;s wrist and pulled her hard, sending her sprawling.
Before the goddess could pounce, Percy advanced, yelling and waving his sword. He still felt about as solid as a Kleenex, but his anger seemed to help him move faster.
ldquo;Hey, Happy!rdquo; he yelled.
Akhlys spun, dropping Annabethrsquo;s arm. ldquo;Happy?rdquo; she demanded.
ldquo;Yeah!rdquo; He ducked as she swiped at his head. ldquo;Yoursquo;re downright cheerful!rdquo;
ldquo;Arggh!rdquo; She lunged again, but she was off balance. Percy sidestepped and backed away, leading the goddess farther from Annabeth.
ldquo;Pleasant!rdquo; he called. ldquo;Delightful!rdquo;
The goddess snarled and winced. She stumbled after Percy. Each compliment seemed to hit her like sand in the face.
ldquo;I will kill you slowly!rdquo; she growled, her eyes and nose watering, blood dripping from her cheeks. ldquo;I will cut you into pieces as a sacrifice to Night!rdquo;
Annabeth struggled to her feet. She started rifling through her pack, no doubt looking for something that might help.
Percy wanted to give her more time. She was the brains. Better for him to get attacked while she came up with a brilliant plan.
ldquo;Cuddly!rdquo; Percy yelled. ldquo;Fuzzy, warm, and huggable!rdquo;
Akhlys made a growling, choking noise, like a cat having a seizure.
ldquo;A slow death!rdquo; she screamed. ldquo;A death from a thousand poisons!rdquo;
All around her, poisonous plants grew and burst like overfilled balloons. Green-and-white sap trickled out, collecting into pools, and began flowing across the ground toward Percy. The sweet-smelling fumes made his head feel wobbly.
ldquo;Percy!rdquo; Annabethrsquo;s voice sounded far away. ldquo;Uh, hey, Miss Wonderful! Cheerful! Grins! Over here!rdquo;
But the goddess of misery was now fixated on Percy. He tried to retreat again. Unfortunately the poison ichor was flowing all around him now, making the ground steam and the air burn. Percy found himself stuck on an island of dust not much bigger than a shield. A few yards away, his backpack smoked and dissolved into a puddle of goo. Percy had nowhere to go.
ldquo;You will feed the eternal darkness,rdquo; Akhlys said. ldquo;You will die in the arms of Night!rdquo;
He was dimly aware of Annabeth shouting, throwing random pieces of drakon jerky at the goddess. The white-green poison kept pooling, little streams trickling from the plants as the venomous lake around him got wider and wider.
Lake, he thought. Streams. Water.
Probably it was just his brain getting fried from poison fumes, but he croaked out a laugh. Poison was liquid. If it moved like water, it must be partially water.
He remembered some science lecture about the human body being mostly water. He remembered extracting water from Jasonrsquo;s lungs back in Rome.hellip; If he could control that, then why not other liquids?
It was a crazy idea. Poseidon was the god of the sea, not of every liquid everywhere.
Then again, Tartarus had its own rules. Fire was drinkable. The ground was the body of a dark god. The air was acid, and demigods could be turned into smoky corpses.
So why not try? He had nothing left to lose.
He glared at the poison flood encroaching from all sides. He concentrated so hard that something inside him crackedmdash;as if a crystal ball had shattered in his stomach.
Warmth flowed through him. The poison tide stopped.
The fumes blew away from himmdash;back toward the goddess. The lake of poison rolled toward her in tiny waves and rivulets.
Akhlys shrieked. ldquo;What is this?rdquo;
ldquo;Poison,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s your specialty, right?rdquo;
He stood, his anger growing hotter in his gut. As the flood of venom rolled toward the goddess, the fumes began to make her cough. Her eyes watered even more.
Oh, good, Percy thought. More water.
Percy imagined her nose and throat filling with her own tears.
Akhlys gagged. ldquo;Imdash;rdquo; The tide of venom reached her feet, sizzling like droplets on a hot iron. She wailed and stumbled back.
ldquo;Percy!rdquo; Annabeth called.
Shersquo;d retreated to the edge of the cliff, even though the poison wasnrsquo;t after her. She sounded terrified. It took Percy a moment to realize she was terrified of him.
ldquo;Stophellip;rdquo; she pleaded, her voice hoarse.
He didnrsquo;t want to stop. He wanted to choke this goddess. He wanted to watch her drown in her own poison. He wanted to see just how much misery Misery could take.
ldquo;Percy, pleasehellip;rdquo; Annabethrsquo;s face was still pale and corpse-like, but her eyes were the same as always. The anguish in them made Percyrsquo;s anger fade.
He turned to the goddess. He willed the poison to recede, creating a small path of retreat along the edge of the cliff.
ldquo;Leave!rdquo; he bellowed.
For an emaciated ghoul, Akhlys could run pretty fast when she wanted to. She scrambled along the path, fell on her face, and got up again, wailing as she sped into the dark.
As soon as she was gone, the pools of poison evaporated. The plants withered to dust and blew away.
Annabeth stumbled toward him. She looked like a corpse wreathed in smoke, but she felt solid enough when she gripped his arms.
ldquo;Percy, please donrsquo;t everhellip;rdquo; Her voice broke in a sob. ldquo;Some things arenrsquo;t meant to be controlled. Please.rdquo;
His whole body tingled with power, but the anger was subsiding. The broken glass inside him was beginning to smooth at the edges.
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Yeah, okay.rdquo;
ldquo;We have to get away from this cliff,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;If Akhlys brought us here as some kind of sacrificehellip;rdquo;
Percy tried to think. He was getting used to moving with the Death Mist around him. He felt more solid, more like himself. But his mind still felt stuffed with cotton.
ldquo;She said something about feeding us to the night,rdquo; he remembered. ldquo;What was that about?rdquo;
The temperature dropped. The abyss before them seemed to exhale.
Percy grabbed Annabeth and backed away from the edge as a presence emerged from the voidmdash;a form so vast and shadowy, he felt like he understood the concept of dark for the first time.
ldquo;I imagine,rdquo; said the darkness, in a feminine voice as soft as coffin lining, ldquo;that she meant Night, with a capital N. After all, I am the only one.rdquo;
THE WAY LEO FIGURED IT, he spent more time crashing than he did flying.
If there were a rewards card for frequent crashers, hersquo;d be, like, double-platinum level.
He regained consciousness as he was free-falling through the clouds. He had a hazy memory of Khione taunting him right before he got shot into the sky. He hadnrsquo;t actually seen her, but he could never forget that snow witchrsquo;s voice. He had no idea how long hersquo;d been gaining altitude, but at some point he must have passed out from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Now he was on his way down, heading for his biggest crash ever.
The clouds parted around him. He saw the glittering sea far, far below. No sign of the Argo II. No sign of any coastline, familiar or otherwise, except for one tiny island at the horizon.
Leo couldnrsquo;t fly. He had a couple of minutes at most before hersquo;d hit the water and go ker-splat.
He decided he didnrsquo;t like that ending to the Epic Ballad of Leo.
He was still clutching the Archimedes sphere, which didnrsquo;t surprise him. Unconscious or not, he would never let go of his most valuable possession. With a little maneuvering, he managed to pull some duct tape from his tool belt and strap the sphere to his chest. That made him look like a low-budget Iron Man, but at least he had both hands free. He started to work, furiously tinkering with the sphere, pulling out anything he thought would help from his magic tool belt: a drop cloth, metal extenders, some string and grommets.
Working while falling was almost impossible. The wind roared in his ears. It kept ripping tools, screws, and canvas out of his hands, but finally he constructed a makeshift frame. He popped open a hatch on the sphere, teased out two wires, and connected them to his crossbar.
How long until he hit the water? Maybe a minute?
He turned the spherersquo;s control dial, and it whirred into action. More bronze wires shot from the orb, intuitively sensing what Leo needed. Cords laced up the canvas drop cloth. The frame began to expand on its own. Leo pulled out a can of kerosene and a rubber tube and lashed them to the thirsty new engine that the orb was helping him assemble.
Finally he made himself a rope halter and shifted so that the X-frame was attached to his back. The sea got closer and closermdash;a glittering expanse of slap-you-in-the-face death.
He yelled in defiance and punched the spherersquo;s override switch.
The engine coughed to life. The makeshift rotor turned. The canvas blades spun, but much too slowly. Leorsquo;s head was pointed straight down at the seamdash;maybe thirty seconds to impact.
At least nobodyrsquo;s around, he thought bitterly, or Irsquo;d be a demigod joke forever. What was the last thing to go through Leorsquo;s mind? The Mediterranean.
Suddenly the orb got warm against his chest. The blades turned faster. The engine coughed, and Leo tilted sideways, slicing through the air.
ldquo;YES!rdquo; he yelled.
He had successfully created the worldrsquo;s most dangerous personal helicopter.
He shot toward the island in the distance, but he was still falling much too fast. The blades shuddered. The canvas screamed.
The beach was only a few hundred yards away when the sphere turned lava-hot and the helicopter exploded, shooting flames in every direction. If he hadnrsquo;t been immune to fire, Leo would have been charcoal. As it was, the midair explosion probably saved his life. The blast flung Leo sideways while the bulk of his flaming contraption smashed into the shore at full speed with a massive KA-BOOM!
Leo opened his eyes, amazed to be alive. He was sitting in a bathtub-sized crater in the sand. A few yards away, a column of thick black smoke roiled into the sky from a much larger crater. The surrounding beach was peppered with smaller pieces of burning wreckage.
ldquo;My sphere.rdquo; Leo patted his chest. The sphere wasnrsquo;t there. His duct tape and rope halter had disintegrated.
He struggled to his feet. None of his bones seemed broken, which was good; but mostly he was worried about his Archimedes sphere. If hersquo;d destroyed his priceless artifact to make a flaming thirty-second helicopter, he was going to track down that stupid snow goddess Khione and smack her with a monkey wrench.
He staggered across the beach, wondering why there werenrsquo;t any tourists or hotels or boats in sight. The island seemed perfect for a resort, with blue water and soft white sand. Maybe it was uncharted. Did they still have uncharted islands in the world? Maybe Khione had blasted him out of the Mediterranean altogether. For all he knew, he was in Bora Bora.
The larger crater was about eight feet deep. At the bottom, the helicopter blades were still trying to turn. The engine belched smoke. The rotor croaked like a stepped-on frog, but dangmdash;pretty impressive for a rush job.
The helicopter had apparently crashed onto something. The crater was littered with broken wooden furniture, shattered china plates, some half-melted pewter goblets, and burning linen napkins. Leo wasnrsquo;t sure why all that fancy stuff had been on the beach, but at least it meant that this place was inhabited, after all.
Finally he spotted the Archimedes spheremdash;steaming and charred but still intact, making unhappy clicking noises in the center of the wreckage.
ldquo;Sphere!rdquo; he yelled. ldquo;Come to Papa!rdquo;
He skidded to the bottom of the crater and snatched up the sphere. He collapsed, sat cross-legged, and cradled the device in his hands. The bronze surface was searing hot, but Leo didnrsquo;t care. It was still in one piece, which meant he could use it.
Now, if he could just figure out where he was, and how to get back to his friends.hellip;
He was making a mental list of tools he might need when a girlrsquo;s voice interrupted him: ldquo;What are you doing? You blew up my dining table!rdquo;
Immediately Leo thought: Uh-oh.
Hersquo;d met a lot of goddesses, but the girl glaring down at him from the edge of the crater actually looked like a goddess.
She wore a sleeveless white Greek-style dress with a gold braided belt. Her hair was long, straight, and golden brownmdash;almost the same cinnamon-toast color as Hazelrsquo;s, but the similarity to Hazel ended there. The girlrsquo;s face was milky pale, with dark, almond-shaped eyes and pouty lips. She looked maybe fifteen, about Leorsquo;s age, and, sure, she was pretty; but with that angry expression on her face she reminded Leo of every popular girl in every school hersquo;d ever attendedmdash;the ones who made fun of him, gossiped a lot, thought they were so superior, and basically did everything they could to make his life miserable.
Leo disliked her instantly.
ldquo;Oh, Irsquo;m sorry!rdquo; he said. ldquo;I just fell out of the sky. I constructed a helicopter in midair, burst into flames halfway down, crash-landed, and barely survived. But by all meansmdash;letrsquo;s talk about your dining table!rdquo;
He snatched up a half-melted goblet. ldquo;Who puts a dining tabl
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Leo noticed that shersquo;d just picked three gods to blame, and one of them was his dad. He didnrsquo;t figure that was a good sign. ldquo;I doubt theyrsquo;re listening. You know, the whole split personality thingmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Show yourself!rdquo; the girl yelled at the sky, completely ignoring Leo. ldquo;Itrsquo;s not bad enough I am exiled? Itrsquo;s not bad enough you take away the few good heroes Irsquo;m allowed to meet? You think itrsquo;s funny to send me thismdash;this charbroiled runt of a boy to ruin my tranquility? This is NOT FUNNY! Take him back!rdquo;
ldquo;Hey, Sunshine,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Irsquo;m right here, you know.rdquo;
She growled like a cornered animal. ldquo;Do not call me Sunshine! Get out of that hole and come with me now so I can get you off my island!rdquo;
ldquo;Well, since you asked so nicelyhellip;rdquo;
Leo didnrsquo;t know what the crazy girl was so worked up about, but he didnrsquo;t really care. If she could help him leave this island, that was totally fine by him. He clutched his charred sphere and climbed out of the crater. When he reached the top, the girl was already marching down the shoreline. He jogged to catch up.
She gestured in disgust at the burning wreckage. ldquo;This was a pristine beach! Look at it now.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, my bad,rdquo; Leo muttered. ldquo;I shouldrsquo;ve crashed on one of the other islands. Oh, waitmdash;there arenrsquo;t any!rdquo;
She snarled and kept walking along the edge of the water. Leo caught a whiff of cinnamonmdash;maybe her perfume? Not that he cared. Her hair swayed down her back in a mesmerizing kind of way, which of course he didnrsquo;t care about either.
He scanned the sea. Just like hersquo;d seen during his fall, there were no landmasses or ships all the way to the horizon. Looking inland, he saw grassy hills dotted with trees. A footpath wound through a grove of cedars. Leo wondered where it led: probably to the girlrsquo;s secret lair, where she roasted her enemies so she could eat them at her dining table on the beach.
He was so busy thinking about that, he didnrsquo;t notice when the girl stopped. He ran into her.
ldquo;Gah!rdquo; She turned and grabbed his arms to keep from falling in the surf. Her hands were strong, as though she worked with them for a living. Back at camp, the girls in the Hephaestus cabin had had strong hands like that, but she didnrsquo;t look like a Hephaestus kid.
She glared at him, her dark almond eyes only a few inches from his. Her cinnamon smell reminded him of his abuelarsquo;s apartment. Man, he hadnrsquo;t thought about that place in years.
The girl pushed him away. ldquo;All right. This spot is good. Now tell me you want to leave.rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo; Leorsquo;s brain was still kind of muddled from the crash landing. He wasnrsquo;t sure he had heard her right.
ldquo;Do you want to leave?rdquo; she demanded. ldquo;Surely yoursquo;ve got somewhere to go!rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;yeah. My friends are in trouble. I need to get back to my ship andmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Fine,rdquo; she snapped. ldquo;Just say, I want to leave Ogygia.rdquo;
ldquo;Uh, okay.rdquo; Leo wasnrsquo;t sure why, but her tone kind of hurthellip;which was stupid, since he didnrsquo;t care what this girl thought. ldquo;I want to leavemdash;whatever you said.rdquo;
ldquo;Oh-gee-gee-ah.rdquo; The girl pronounced it slowly, as if Leo were five years old.
ldquo;I want to leave Oh-gee-gee-ah,rdquo; he said.
She exhaled, clearly relieved. ldquo;Good. In a moment, a magical raft will appear. It will take you wherever you want to go.rdquo;
ldquo;Who are you?rdquo;
She looked like she was about to answer but stopped herself. ldquo;It doesnrsquo;t matter. Yoursquo;ll be gone soon. Yoursquo;re obviously a mistake.rdquo;
That was harsh, Leo thought.
Hersquo;d spent enough time thinking he was a mistakemdash;as a demigod, on this quest, in life in general. He didnrsquo;t need a random crazy goddess reinforcing the idea.
He remembered a Greek legend about a girl on an island.hellip; Maybe one of his friends had mentioned it? It didnrsquo;t matter. As long as she let him leave.
ldquo;Any moment nowhellip;rdquo; The girl stared out at the water.
No magical raft appeared.
ldquo;Maybe it got stuck in traffic,rdquo; Leo said.
ldquo;This is wrong.rdquo; She glared at the sky. ldquo;This is completely wrong!rdquo;
ldquo;Sohellip;plan B?rdquo; Leo asked. ldquo;You got a phone, ormdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Agh!rdquo; The girl turned and stormed inland. When she got to the footpath, she sprinted into the grove of trees and disappeared.
ldquo;Okay,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Or you could just run away.rdquo;
From his tool belt pouches he pulled some rope and a snap hook, then fastened the Archimedes sphere to his belt.
He looked out to sea. Still no magic raft.
He could stand here and wait, but he was hungry, thirsty, and tired. He was banged up pretty bad from his fall.
He didnrsquo;t want to follow that crazy girl, no matter how good she smelled.
On the other hand, he had no place else to go. The girl had a dining table, so she probably had food. And she seemed to find Leorsquo;s presence annoying.
ldquo;Annoying her is a plus,rdquo; he decided.
He followed her into the hills.
ldquo;HOLY HEPHAESTUS,rdquo; LEO SAID.
The path opened into the nicest garden Leo had ever seen. Not that he had spent a lot of time in gardens, but dang. On the left was an orchard and a vineyardmdash;peach trees with red-golden fruit that smelled awesome in the warm sun, carefully pruned vines bursting with grapes, bowers of flowering jasmine, and a bunch of other plants Leo couldnrsquo;t name.
On the right were neat beds of vegetables and herbs, arranged like spokes around a big sparkling fountain where bronze satyrs spewed water into a central bowl.
At the back of the garden, where the footpath ended, a cave opened in the side of a grassy hill. Compared to Bunker Nine back at camp, the entrance was tiny, but it was impressive in its own way. On either side, crystalline rock had been carved into glittering Grecian columns. The tops were fitted with a bronze rod that held silky white curtains.
Leorsquo;s nose was assaulted by good smellsmdash;cedar, juniper, jasmine, peaches, and fresh herbs. The aroma from the cave really caught his attentionmdash;like beef stew cooking.
He started toward the entrance. Seriously, how could he not? He stopped when he noticed the girl. She was kneeling in her vegetable garden, her back to Leo. She muttered to herself as she dug furiously with a trowel.
Leo approached her from one side so she could see him. He didnrsquo;t feel like surprising her when she was armed with a sharp gardening implement.
She kept cursing in Ancient Greek and stabbing at the dirt. She had flecks of soil all over her arms, her face, and her white dress, but she didnrsquo;t seem to care.
Leo could appreciate that. She looked better with a little mudmdash;less like a beauty queen and more like an actual get-your-hands-dirty kind of person.
ldquo;I think yoursquo;ve punished that dirt enough,rdquo; he offered.
She scowled at him, her eyes red and watery. ldquo;Just go away.rdquo;
ldquo;Yoursquo;re crying,rdquo; he said, which was stupidly obvious; but seeing her that way took the wind out of his helicopter blades, so to speak. It was hard to stay mad at someone who was crying.
ldquo;None of your business,rdquo; she muttered. ldquo;Itrsquo;s a big island. Justhellip;find your own place. Leave me alone.rdquo; She waved vaguely toward the south. ldquo;Go that way, maybe.rdquo;
ldquo;So, no magic raft,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;No other way off the island?rdquo;
ldquo;Apparently not!rdquo;
ldquo;What am I supposed to do, then? Sit in the sand dunes until I die?rdquo;
ldquo;That would be fine.hellip;rdquo; The girl threw down her trowel and cursed at the sky. ldquo;Except I suppose he canrsquo;t die here, can he? Zeus! This is not funny!rdquo;
Canrsquo;t die here?
ldquo;Hold up.rdquo; Leorsquo;s head spun like a crankshaft. He couldnrsquo;t quite translate what this girl was sayingmdash;like when he heard Spaniards or South Americans speaking Spanish. Yeah, he could understand it, sort of; but it sounded so different, it was almost another language.
ldquo;Irsquo;m going to need some more information here,rdquo; he said. ldquo;You donrsquo;t want me in your face, thatrsquo;s cool. I donrsquo;t want to be here either. But Irsquo;m not going to go die in a corner. I have to get off this island. Therersquo;s got to be a way. Every problem has a fix.rdquo;
She laughed bitterly. ldquo;You havenrsquo;t lived very long, if you still believe that.rdquo;
The way she said it sent a shiver up his back. She looked the same age as him, but he wondered how old she really was.
ldquo;You said something about a curse,rdquo; he prompted.
She flexed her fingers, like she was practicing her throat-strangling technique. ldquo;Yes. I cannot leave Ogygia. My father, Atlas, fought against the gods, and I supported him.rdquo;
ldquo;Atlas,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;As in the Titan Atlas?rdquo;
The girl rolled her eyes. ldquo;Yes, you impossible littlehellip;rdquo; Whatever she was going to say, she bit it back. ldquo;I was imprisoned here, where I could cause the Olympians no trouble. About a year ago, after the Second Titan War, the gods vowed to forgive their enemies and offer amnesty. Supposedly Percy made them promisemdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Percy,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Percy Jackson?rdquo;
She squeezed her eyes shut. A tear trickled down her cheek.
Oh, Leo thought.
ldquo;Percy came here,rdquo; he said.
She dug her fingers into the soil. ldquo;Imdash;I thought I would be released. I dared to hopehellip;but I am still here.rdquo;
Leo remembered now. The story was supposed to be a secret, but of course that meant it had spread like wildfire across the camp. Percy had told Annabeth. Months later, when Percy had gone missing, Annabeth told Piper. Piper told Jasonhellip;
Percy had talked about visiting this island. He had met a goddess whorsquo;d gotten a major crush on him and wanted him to stay, but eventually she let him go.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re that lady,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;The one who was named after Caribbean music.rdquo;
Her eyes glinted murderously. ldquo;Caribbean music.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah. Reggae?rdquo; Leo shook his head. ldquo;Merengue? Hold on, Irsquo;ll get it.rdquo;
He snapped his fingers. ldquo;Calypso! But Percy said you were awesome. He said you were all sweet and helpful, not, umhellip;rdquo;
She shot to her feet. ldquo;Yes?rdquo;
ldquo;Uh, nothing,rdquo; Leo said.
ldquo;Would you be sweet,rdquo; she demanded, ldquo;if the gods forgot their promise to let you go? Would you be sweet if they laughed at you by sending another hero, but a hero who looked likemdash;like you?rdquo;
ldquo;Is that a trick question?rdquo;
ldquo;Di Immortales!rdquo; She turned and marched into her cave.
ldquo;Hey!rdquo; Leo ran after her.
When he got inside, he lost his train of thought. The walls were made from multicolored chunks of crystal. White curtains divided the cave into different rooms with comfy pillows and woven rugs and platters of fresh fruit. He spotted a har
Calypso stood at a washbasin, cleaning the dirt off her arms.
She scowled at Leo, but she didnrsquo;t yell at him to leave. She seemed to be running out of energy for her anger.
Leo cleared his throat. If he was going to get any help from this lady, he needed to be nice. ldquo;Sohellip;I get why yoursquo;re angry. You probably never want to see another demigod again. I guess that didnrsquo;t sit right when, uh, Percy left youmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;He was only the latest,rdquo; she growled. ldquo;Before him, it was that pirate Drake. And before him, Odysseus. They were all the same! The gods send me the greatest heroes, the ones I cannot help buthellip;rdquo;
ldquo;You fall in love with them,rdquo; Leo guessed. ldquo;And then they leave you.rdquo;
Her chin trembled. ldquo;That is my curse. I had hoped to be free of it by now, but here I am, still stuck on Ogygia after three thousand years.rdquo;
ldquo;Three thousand.rdquo; Leorsquo;s mouth felt tingly, like hersquo;d just eaten Pop Rocks. ldquo;Uh, you look good for three thousand.rdquo;
ldquo;And nowhellip;the worst insult of all. The gods mock me by sending you.rdquo;
Anger bubbled in Leorsquo;s stomach.
Yeah, typical. If Jason were here, Calypso would fall all over him. Shersquo;d beg him to stay, but hersquo;d be all noble about returning to his duties, and hersquo;d leave Calypso brokenhearted. That magic raft would totally arrive for him.
But Leo? He was the annoying guest she couldnrsquo;t get rid of. Shersquo;d never fall for him, because she was totally out of his league. Not that he cared. She wasnrsquo;t his type anyway. She was way too annoying, and beautiful, andmdash;well, it didnrsquo;t matter.
ldquo;Fine,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Irsquo;ll leave you alone. Irsquo;ll build something myself and get off this stupid island without your help.rdquo;
She shook her head sadly. ldquo;You donrsquo;t understand, do you? The gods are laughing at both of us. If the raft will not appear, that means theyrsquo;ve closed Ogygia. Yoursquo;re stuck here the same as me. You can never leave.rdquo;
THE FIRST FEW DAYS WERE THE WORST.
Leo slept outside on a bed of drop cloths under the stars. It got cold at night, even on the beach in the summer, so he built fires with the remains of Calypsorsquo;s dining table. That cheered him up a little.
During the days, he walked the circumference of the island and found nothing of interestmdash;unless you liked beaches and endless sea in every direction. He tried to send an Iris-message in the rainbows that formed in the sea spray, but he had no luck. He didnrsquo;t have any drachmas for an offering, and apparently the goddess Iris wasnrsquo;t interested in nuts and bolts.
He didnrsquo;t even dream, which was unusual for himmdash;or for any demigodmdash;so he had no idea what was going on in the outside world. Had his friends gotten rid of Khione? Were they looking for him, or had they sailed on to Epirus to complete the quest?
He wasnrsquo;t even sure what to hope for.
The dream hersquo;d had back on the Argo II finally made sense to himmdash;when the evil sorceress lady had told him to either jump off a cliff into the clouds or descend into a dark tunnel where ghostly voices whispered. That tunnel must have represented the House of Hades, which Leo would never see now. Hersquo;d taken the cliff insteadmdash;falling through the sky to this stupid island. But in the dream, Leo had been given a choice. In real life, hersquo;d had none. Khione had simply plucked him off his ship and shot him into orbit. Totally unfair.
The worst part of being stuck here? He was losing track of the days. He woke up one morning and couldnrsquo;t remember if hersquo;d been on Ogygia for three nights or four.
Calypso wasnrsquo;t much help. Leo confronted her in the garden, but she just shook her head. ldquo;Time is difficult here.rdquo;
Great. For all Leo knew, a century had passed in the real world, and the war with Gaea was over for better or worse. Or maybe hersquo;d only been on Ogygia for five minutes. His whole life might pass here in the time it took his friends on the Argo II to have breakfast.
Either way, he needed to get off this island.
Calypso took pity on him in some ways. She sent her invisible servants to leave bowls of stew and goblets of apple cider at the edge of the garden. She even sent him a few new sets of clothesmdash;simple, undyed cotton pants and shirts that she must have made on her loom. They fit him so well, Leo wondered how shersquo;d gotten his measurements. Maybe she just used her generic pattern for SCRAWNY MALE.
Anyway, he was glad to have new threads, since his old ones were pretty smelly and burned up. Usually Leo could keep his clothes from burning when he caught fire, but it took concentration. Sometimes back at camp, if he wasnrsquo;t thinking about it, hersquo;d be working on some metal project at the hot forge, look down, and realize his clothes had burned away, except for his magic tool belt and a smoking pair of underwear. Kind of embarrassing.
Despite the gifts, Calypso obviously didnrsquo;t want to see him. One time he poked his head inside the cave and she freaked out, yelling and throwing pots at his head.
Yeah, she was definitely on Team Leo.
He ended up pitching a more permanent camp near the footpath, where the beach met the hills. That way he was close enough to pick up his meals, but Calypso didnrsquo;t have to see him and go into a pot-throwing rage.
He made himself a lean-to with sticks and canvas. He dug a campfire pit. He even managed to build himself a bench and a worktable from some driftwood and dead cedar branches. He spent hours fixing the Archimedes sphere, cleaning it and repairing its circuits. He made himself a compass, but the needle would spin all crazy no matter what he tried. Leo guessed a GPS would have been useless too. This island was designed to be off the charts, impossible to leave.
He remembered the old bronze astrolabe hersquo;d picked up in Bolognamdash;the one the dwarfs told him Odysseus had made. He had a sneaking suspicion Odysseus had been thinking about this island when he constructed it, but unfortunately Leo had left it back on the ship with Buford the Wonder Table. Besides, the dwarfs had told him the astrolabe didnrsquo;t work. Something about a missing crystalhellip;
He walked the beach, wondering why Khione had sent him heremdash;assuming his landing here wasnrsquo;t an accident. Why not just kill him instead? Maybe Khione wanted him to be in limbo forever. Perhaps she knew the gods were too incapacitated to pay attention to Ogygia, and so the islandrsquo;s magic was broken. That could be why Calypso was still stuck here, and why the magic raft wouldnrsquo;t appear for Leo.
Or maybe the magic of this place was working just fine. The gods punished Calypso by sending her buff courageous dudes who left as soon as she fell for them. Maybe that was the problem. Calypso would never fall for Leo. She wanted him to leave. So they were stuck in a vicious circle. If that was Khionersquo;s planhellip;wow. Major-league devious.
Then one morning he made a discovery, and things got even more complicated.
Leo was walking in the hills, following a little brook that ran between two big cedar trees. He liked this areamdash;it was the only place on Ogygia where he couldnrsquo;t see the sea, so he could pretend he wasnrsquo;t stuck on an island. In the shade of the trees, he almost felt like he was back at Camp Half-Blood, heading through the woods toward Bunker Nine.
He jumped over the creek. Instead of landing on soft earth, his feet hit something much harder.
CLANG.
Metal.
Excited, Leo dug through the mulch until he saw the glint of bronze.
ldquo;Oh, man.rdquo; He giggled like a crazy person as he excavated the scraps.
He had no idea why the stuff was here. Hephaestus was always tossing broken parts out of his godly workshop and littering the earth with scrap metal, but what were the chances some of it would hit Ogygia?
Leo found a handful of wires, a few bent gears, a piston that might still work, and several hammered sheets of Celestial bronzemdash;the smallest the size of a drink coaster, the largest the size of a war shield.
It wasnrsquo;t a lotmdash;not compared to Bunker Nine, or even to his supplies aboard the Argo II. But it was more than sand and rocks.
He looked up at the sunlight winking through the cedar branches. ldquo;Dad? If you sent this here for memdash;thanks. If you didnrsquo;thellip;well, thanks anyway.rdquo;
He gathered up his treasure trove and lugged it back to his campsite.
After that, the days passed more quickly, and with a lot more noise.
First Leo made himself a forge out of mud bricks, each one baked with his own fiery hands. He found a large rock he could use as an anvil base, and he pulled nails from his tool belt until he had enough to melt into a plate for a hammering surface.
Once that was done, he began to recast the Celestial bronze scraps. Each day his hammer rang on bronze until his rock anvil broke, or his tongs bent, or he ran out of firewood.
Each evening he collapsed, drenched in sweat and covered in soot; but he felt great. At least he was working, trying to solve his problem.
The first time Calypso came to check on him, it was to complain about the noise.
ldquo;Smoke and fire,rdquo; she said. ldquo;Clanging on metal all day long. Yoursquo;re scaring away the birds!rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, no, not the birds!rdquo; Leo grumbled.
ldquo;What do you hope to accomplish?rdquo;
He glanced up and almost smashed his thumb with his hammer. Hersquo;d been staring at metal and fire so long hersquo;d forgotten how beautiful Calypso was. Annoyingly beautiful. She stood there with the sunlight in her hair, her white skirt fluttering around her legs, a basket of grapes and fresh-baked bread tucked under one arm.
Leo tried to ignore his rumbling stomach.
ldquo;Irsquo;m hoping to get off this island,rdquo; he said. ldquo;That is what you want, right?rdquo;
Calypso scowled. She set the basket near his bedroll. ldquo;You havenrsquo;t eaten in two days. Take a break and eat.rdquo;
ldquo;Two days?rdquo; Leo hadnrsquo;t even noticed, which surprised him, since he liked food. He was even more surprised that Calypso had noticed.
ldquo;Thanks,rdquo; he muttered. ldquo;Irsquo;ll, uh, try to hammer more quietly.rdquo;
ldquo;Huh.rdquo; She sounded unimpressed.
After that, she didnrsquo;t complain about the noise or the smoke.
The next time she visited, Leo was putting the final touches on his first project. He didnrsquo;t see her until she spoke right behind him.
ldquo;I brought youmdash;rdquo;
Leo jumped, dropping his wires. ldquo;Bronze bulls, girl! Donrsquo;t sneak up on me like that!rdquo;
She was wearing red todaymdash;Leorsquo;s favorite color. That was completely irrelevant. She looked really good in red. Also irrelevant.
ldquo;I wasnrsquo;t sneaking,rdquo; she said. ldquo;I was bringing you these.rdquo;
She showed him the clothes that were folded over her arm: a new pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, an army fatigue jackethellip;wait, those were his clothes, except that they couldnrsquo;t be. His original army jacket had burned up months ago. He hadnrsquo;t been wearing it when he landed on Ogygia. But the clothes Calypso held looked exactly like the
ldquo;These wonrsquo;t burn?rdquo; He picked up the jeans, but they felt just like normal denim.
ldquo;They are completely fireproof,rdquo; Calypso promised. ldquo;Theyrsquo;ll stay clean and expand to fit you, should you ever become less scrawny.rdquo;
ldquo;Thanks.rdquo; He meant it to sound sarcastic, but he was honestly impressed. Leo could make a lot of things, but an inflammable, self-cleaning outfit wasnrsquo;t one of them. ldquo;Sohellip;you made an exact replica of my favorite outfit. Did you, like, Google me or something?rdquo;
She frowned. ldquo;I donrsquo;t know that word.rdquo;
ldquo;You looked me up,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Almost like you had some interest in me.rdquo;
She wrinkled her nose. ldquo;I have an interest in not making you a new set of clothes every other day. I have an interest in your not smelling so bad and walking around my island in smoldering rags.rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, yeah.rdquo; Leo grinned. ldquo;Yoursquo;re really warming up to me.rdquo;
Her face got even redder. ldquo;You are the most insufferable person I have ever met! I was only returning a favor. You fixed my fountain.rdquo;
ldquo;That?rdquo; Leo laughed. The problem had been so simple, hersquo;d almost forgotten about it. One of the bronze satyrs had gotten turned sideways and the water pressure was off, so it started making an annoying ticking sound, jiggling up and down, and spewing water over the rim of the pool. Hersquo;d pulled out a couple of tools and fixed it in about two minutes. ldquo;That was no big deal. I donrsquo;t like it when things donrsquo;t work right.rdquo;
ldquo;And the curtains across the cave entrance?rdquo;
ldquo;The rod wasnrsquo;t level.rdquo;
ldquo;And my gardening tools?rdquo;
ldquo;Look, I just sharpened the shears. Cutting vines with a dull blade is dangerous. And the pruners needed to be oiled at the hinge, andmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, yeah,rdquo; Calypso said, in a pretty good imitation of his voice. ldquo;Yoursquo;re really warming up to me.rdquo;
For once, Leo was speechless. Calypsorsquo;s eyes glittered. He knew she was making fun of him, but somehow it didnrsquo;t feel mean.
She pointed at his worktable. ldquo;What are you building?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh.rdquo; He looked at the bronze mirror, which hersquo;d just finished wiring up to the Archimedes sphere. In the screenrsquo;s polished surface, his own reflection surprised him. His hair had grown out longer and curlier. His face was thinner and more chiseled, maybe because he hadnrsquo;t been eating. His eyes were dark and a little ferocious when he wasnrsquo;t smilingmdash;kind of a Tarzan look, if Tarzan came in extra-small Latino. He couldnrsquo;t blame Calypso for backing away from him.
ldquo;Uh, itrsquo;s a seeing device,rdquo; he said. ldquo;We found one like this in Rome, in the workshop of Archimedes. If I can make it work, maybe I can find out whatrsquo;s going on with my friends.rdquo;
Calypso shook her head. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s impossible. This island is hidden, cut off from the world by strong magic. Time doesnrsquo;t even flow the same here.rdquo;
ldquo;Well, yoursquo;ve got to have some kind of outside contact. How did you find out that I used to wear an army jacket?rdquo;
She twisted her hair as if the question made her uncomfortable. ldquo;Seeing the past is simple magic. Seeing the present or the futuremdash;that is not.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, well,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Watch and learn, Sunshine. I just connect these last two wires, andmdash;rdquo;
The bronze plate sparked. Smoke billowed from the sphere. A flash of fire raced up Leorsquo;s sleeve. He pulled off his shirt, threw it down, and stomped on it.
He could tell Calypso was trying not to laugh, but she was shaking with the effort.
ldquo;Not a word,rdquo; Leo warned.
She glanced at his bare chest, which was sweaty, bony, and streaked with old scars from weapon-making accidents.
ldquo;Nothing worth commenting on,rdquo; she assured him. ldquo;If you want that device to work, perhaps you should try a musical invocation.rdquo;
ldquo;Right,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Whenever an engine malfunctions, I like to tap-dance around it. Works every time.rdquo;
She took a deep breath and began to sing.
Her voice hit him like a cool breezemdash;like that first cold front in Texas when the summer heat finally breaks and you start to believe things might get better. Leo couldnrsquo;t understand the words, but the song was plaintive and bittersweet, as if she were describing a home she could never return to.
Her singing was magic, no doubt. But it wasnrsquo;t like Medearsquo;s trance-inducing voice, or even Piperrsquo;s charmspeak. The music didnrsquo;t want anything from him. It simply reminded him of his best memoriesmdash;building things with his mom in her workshop; sitting in the sunshine with his friends at camp. It made him miss home.
Calypso stopped singing. Leo realized he was staring like an idiot.
ldquo;Any luck?rdquo; she asked.
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; He forced his eyes back to the bronze mirror. ldquo;Nothing. Waithellip;rdquo;
The screen glowed. In the air above it, holographic pictures shimmered to life.
Leo recognized the commons at Camp Half-Blood.
There was no sound, but Clarisse LaRue from the Ares Cabin was yelling orders at the campers, forming them into lines. Leorsquo;s brethren from Cabin Nine hurried around, fitting everyone with armor and passing out weapons.
Even Chiron the centaur was dressed for war. He trotted up and down the ranks, his plumed helmet gleaming, his legs decked in bronze greaves. His usual friendly smile was gone, replaced with a look of grim determination.
In the distance, Greek triremes floated on Long Island Sound, prepped for war. Along the hills, catapults were being primed. Satyrs patrolled the fields, and riders on pegasi circled overhead, alert for aerial attacks.
ldquo;Your friends?rdquo; Calypso asked.
Leo nodded. His face felt numb. ldquo;Theyrsquo;re preparing for war.rdquo;
ldquo;Against whom?rdquo;
ldquo;Look,rdquo; Leo said.
The scene changed. A phalanx of Roman demigods marched through a moonlit vineyard. An illuminated sign in the distance read: GOLDSMITH WINERY.
ldquo;Irsquo;ve seen that sign before,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s not far from Camp Half-Blood.rdquo;
Suddenly the Roman ranks deteriorated into chaos. Demigods scattered. Shields fell. Javelins swung wildly, like the whole group had stepped in fire ants.
Darting through the moonlight were two small hairy shapes dressed in mismatched clothes and garish hats. They seemed to be everywhere at oncemdash;whacking Romans on the head, stealing their weapons, cutting their belts so their pants fell around their ankles.
Leo couldnrsquo;t help grinning. ldquo;Those beautiful little troublemakers! They kept their promise.rdquo;
Calypso leaned in, watching the Kerkopes. ldquo;Cousins of yours?rdquo;
ldquo;Ha, ha, ha, no,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Couple of dwarfs I met in Bologna. I sent them to slow down the Romans, and theyrsquo;re doing it.rdquo;
ldquo;But for how long?rdquo; Calypso wondered.
Good question. The scene shifted again. Leo saw Octavianmdash;that no-good blond scarecrow of an augur. He stood in a gas station parking lot, surrounded by black SUVs and Roman demigods. He held up a long pole wrapped in canvas. When he uncovered it, a golden eagle glimmered at the top.
ldquo;Oh, thatrsquo;s not good,rdquo; Leo said.
ldquo;A Roman standard,rdquo; Calypso noted.
ldquo;Yeah. And this one shoots lightning, according to Percy.rdquo;
As soon as he said Percyrsquo;s name, Leo regretted it. He glanced at Calypso. He could see in her eyes how much she was struggling, trying to marshal her emotions into neat orderly rows like strands on her loom. What surprised Leo most was the surge of anger he felt. It wasnrsquo;t just annoyance or jealousy. He was mad at Percy for hurting this girl.
He refocused on the holographic images. Now he saw a single ridermdash;Reyna, the praetor from Camp Jupitermdash;flying through a storm on the back of a light-brown pegasus. Reynarsquo;s dark hair flew in the wind. Her purple cloak fluttered, revealing the glimmer of her armor. She was bleeding from cuts on her arms and face. Her pegasusrsquo;s eyes were wild, his mouth slathering from hard riding; but Reyna peered steadfastly forward into the storm.
As Leo watched, a wild gryphon dived out of the clouds. It raked its claws across the horsersquo;s ribs, almost throwing Reyna. She drew her sword and slashed the monster down. Seconds later, three venti appearedmdash;dark air spirits swirling like miniature tornadoes laced with lightning. Reyna charged them, yelling defiantly.
Then the bronze mirror went dark.
ldquo;No!rdquo; Leo yelled. ldquo;No, not now. Show me what happens!rdquo; He banged on the mirror. ldquo;Calypso, can you sing again or something?rdquo;
She glared at him. ldquo;I suppose that is your girlfriend? Your Penelope? Your Elizabeth? Your Annabeth?rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo; Leo couldnrsquo;t figure this girl out. Half the stuff she said made no sense. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s Reyna. Shersquo;s not my girlfriend! I need to see more! I needmdash;rdquo;
NEED, a voice rumbled in the ground beneath his feet. Leo staggered, suddenly feeling like he was standing on the surface of a trampoline.
NEED is an overused word. A swirling human figure erupted from the sandmdash;Leorsquo;s least favorite goddess, the Mistress of Mud, the Princess of Potty Sludge, Gaea herself.
Leo threw a pair of pliers at her. Unfortunately she wasnrsquo;t solid, and they passed right through. Her eyes were closed, but she didnrsquo;t look asleep, exactly. She had a smile on her dust devil face, as if she were intently listening to her favorite song. Her sandy robes shifted and folded, reminding Leo of the undulating fins on that stupid shrimpzilla monster theyrsquo;d fought in the Atlantic. For his money, though, Gaea was uglier.
You want to live, Gaea said. You want to join your friends. But you do not need this, my poor boy. It would make no difference. Your friends will die, regardless.
Leorsquo;s legs shook. He hated it, but whenever this witch appeared, he felt like he was eight years old again, trapped in the lobby of his momrsquo;s machine shop, listening to Gaearsquo;s soothing evil voice while his mother was locked inside the burning warehouse, dying from heat and smoke.
ldquo;What I donrsquo;t need,rdquo; he growled, ldquo;is more lies from you, Dirt Face. You told me my great-granddad died in the 1960s. Wrong! You told me I couldnrsquo;t save my friends in Rome. Wrong! You told me a lot of things.rdquo;
Gaearsquo;s laughter was a soft rustling sound, like dirt trickling down a hill in the first moments of an avalanche.
I tried to help you make better choices. You could have saved yourself. But you defied me at every step. You built your ship. You joined that foolish quest. Now you are trapped here, helpless, while the mortal world dies.
Leorsquo;s hands burst into flame. He wanted to melt Gaearsquo;s sandy face to glass. Then he felt Calypsorsquo;s hand on his shoulder.
ldquo;Gaea.rdquo; Her voice was stern and steady. ldquo;You are not welcome.rdquo;
Leo wished he could sound as confident as Calypso. Then he remembered that this annoying fifteen-year-old girl
Calypso stared straight through the swirling face of Gaea, all the way to the horizon.
Yes, Gaea murmured sympathetically. The Olympians are faithless. They do not give second chances. Why do you hold out hope? You supported your father, Atlas, in his great war. You knew that the gods must be destroyed. Why do you hesitate now? I offer you a chance that Zeus would never give you.
ldquo;Where were you these last three thousand years?rdquo; Calypso asked. ldquo;If you are so concerned with my fate, why do you visit me only now?rdquo;
Gaea turned up her palms. The earth is slow to wake. War comes in its own time. But do not think it will pass you by on Ogygia. When I remake the world, this prison will be destroyed as well.
ldquo;Ogygia destroyed?rdquo; Calypso shook her head, as if she couldnrsquo;t imagine those two words going together.
You do not have to be here when that happens, Gaea promised. Join me now. Kill this boy. Spill his blood upon the earth, and help me to wake. I will free you and grant you any wish. Freedom. Revenge against the gods. Even a prize. Would you still have the demigod Percy Jackson? I will spare him for you. I will raise him from Tartarus. He will be yours to punish or to love, as you choose. Only kill this trespassing boy. Show your loyalty.
Several scenarios went through Leorsquo;s headmdash;none of them good. He was positive Calypso would strangle him on the spot, or order her invisible wind servants to chop him into a Leo purée.
Why wouldnrsquo;t she? Gaea was making her the ultimate dealmdash;kill one annoying guy, get a handsome one free!
Calypso thrust her hand toward Gaea in a three-fingered gesture Leo recognized from Camp Half-Blood: the Ancient Greek ward against evil. ldquo;This is not just my prison, Grandmother. It is my home. And you are the trespasser.rdquo;
The wind ripped Gaearsquo;s form into nothingness, scattering the sand into the blue sky.
Leo swallowed. ldquo;Uh, donrsquo;t take this the wrong way, but you didnrsquo;t kill me. Are you crazy?rdquo;
Calypsorsquo;s eyes smoldered with anger, but for once Leo didnrsquo;t think the anger was aimed at him. ldquo;Your friends must need you, or else Gaea would not ask for your death.rdquo;
ldquo;Imdash;uh, yeah. I guess.rdquo;
ldquo;Then we have work to do,rdquo; she said. ldquo;We must get you back to your ship.rdquo;
LEO THOUGHT HErsquo;D BEEN BUSY BEFORE. When Calypso set her mind to something, she was a machine.
Within a day, shersquo;d gathered enough supplies for a weeklong voyagemdash;food, flasks of water, herbal medicines from her garden. She wove a sail big enough for a small yacht and made enough rope for all the rigging.
She got so much done that by the second day she asked Leo if he needed any help with his own project.
He looked up from the circuit board that was slowly coming together. ldquo;If I didnrsquo;t know better, Irsquo;d think you were anxious to get rid of me.rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s a bonus,rdquo; she admitted. She was dressed for work in a pair of jeans and a grubby white T-shirt. When he asked her about the wardrobe change, she claimed she had realized how practical these clothes were after making some for Leo.
In the blue jeans, she didnrsquo;t look much like a goddess. Her T-shirt was covered with grass and dirt stains, like shersquo;d just run through a swirling Gaea. Her feet were bare. Her cinnamon-toast hair was tied back, which made her almond eyes look even larger and more startling. Her hands were calloused and blistered from working with rope.
Looking at her, Leo felt a tugging in his stomach that he couldnrsquo;t quite explain.
ldquo;So?rdquo; she prompted.
ldquo;Sohellip;what?rdquo;
She nodded at the circuitry. ldquo;So can I help? How is it coming?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, uh, Irsquo;m good here. I guess. If I can wire this thing up to the boat, I should be able to navigate back to the world.rdquo;
ldquo;Now all you need is a boat.rdquo;
He tried to read her expression. He wasnrsquo;t sure if she was annoyed that he was still here, or wistful that she wasnrsquo;t leaving too. Then he looked at all the supplies shersquo;d stacked upmdash;easily enough for two people for several days.
ldquo;What Gaea saidhellip;rdquo; He hesitated. ldquo;About you getting off this island. Would you want to try it?rdquo;
She scowled. ldquo;What do you mean?rdquo;
ldquo;Wellhellip;Irsquo;m not saying it would be fun having you along, always complaining and glaring at me and stuff. But I suppose I could stand it, if you wanted to try.rdquo;
Her expression softened just a little.
ldquo;How noble,rdquo; she muttered. ldquo;But no, Leo. If I tried to come with you, your tiny chance of escape would be no chance at all. The gods have placed ancient magic on this island to keep me here. A hero can leave. I cannot. The most important thing is getting you free so you can stop Gaea. Not that I care what happens to you,rdquo; she added quickly. ldquo;But the worldrsquo;s fate is at stake.rdquo;
ldquo;Why would you care about that?rdquo; he asked. ldquo;I mean, after being away from the world for so long?rdquo;
She arched her eyebrows, as if surprised that hersquo;d asked a sensible question. ldquo;I suppose I donrsquo;t like being told what to domdash;by Gaea or anyone else. As much as I hate the gods sometimes, over the past three millennia Irsquo;ve come to see that theyrsquo;re better than the Titans. Theyrsquo;re definitely better than the giants. At least the gods kept in touch. Hermes has always been kind to me. And your father, Hephaestus, has often visited. He is a good person.rdquo;
Leo wasnrsquo;t sure what to make of her faraway tone. She almost sounded like she was pondering his worth, not his dadrsquo;s.
She reached out and closed his mouth. He hadnrsquo;t realized it was hanging open.
ldquo;Now,rdquo; Calypso said, ldquo;how can I help?rdquo;
ldquo;Oh.rdquo; He stared down at his project, but when he spoke, he blurted out an idea that had been forming ever since Calypso made his new clothes. ldquo;You know that flameproof cloth? You think you could make me a little bag of that fabric?rdquo;
He described the dimensions. Calypso waved her hand impatiently. ldquo;That will only take minutes. Will it help on your quest?rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah. It might save a life. And, um, could you chip off a little piece of crystal from your cave? I donrsquo;t need much.rdquo;
She frowned. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s an odd request.rdquo;
ldquo;Humor me.rdquo;
ldquo;All right. Consider it done. Irsquo;ll make the fireproof pouch tonight at the loom, when Irsquo;ve cleaned up. But what can I do now, while my hands are dirty?rdquo;
She held up her calloused, grimy fingers. Leo couldnrsquo;t help thinking there was nothing hotter than a girl who didnrsquo;t mind getting her hands dirty. But of course, that was just a general comment. Didnrsquo;t apply to Calypso. Obviously.
ldquo;Well,rdquo; he said, ldquo;you could twist some more bronze coils. But thatrsquo;s kind of specializedmdash;rdquo;
She pushed in next to him on the bench and began to work, her hands braiding the bronze wiring faster than he could have. ldquo;Just like weaving,rdquo; she said. ldquo;This isnrsquo;t so hard.rdquo;
ldquo;Huh,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Well, if you ever get off this island and want a job, let me know. Yoursquo;re not a total klutz.rdquo;
She smirked. ldquo;A job, eh? Making things in your forge?rdquo;
ldquo;Nah, we could start our own shop,rdquo; Leo said, surprising himself. Starting a machine shop had always been one of his dreams, but hersquo;d never told anyone about it. ldquo;Leo and Calypsorsquo;s Garage: Auto Repair and Mechanical Monsters.rdquo;
ldquo;Fresh fruits and vegetables,rdquo; Calypso offered.
ldquo;Cider and stew,rdquo; Leo added. ldquo;We could even provide entertainment. You could sing and I could, like, randomly burst into flames.rdquo;
Calypso laughedmdash;a clear, happy sound that made Leorsquo;s heart go ka-bump.
ldquo;See,rdquo; he said, ldquo;Irsquo;m funny.rdquo;
She managed to kill her smile. ldquo;You are not funny. Now, get back to work, or no cider and stew.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, marsquo;am,rdquo; he said. They worked in silence, side by side, for the rest of the afternoon.
Two nights later, the guidance console was finished.
Leo and Calypso sat on the beach, near the spot where Leo had destroyed the dining table, and they ate a picnic dinner together. The full moon turned the waves to silver. Their campfire sent orange sparks into the sky. Calypso wore a fresh white shirt and her jeans, which shersquo;d apparently decided to live in.
Behind them in the dunes, the supplies were carefully packed and ready to go.
ldquo;All we need now is a boat,rdquo; Calypso said.
Leo nodded. He tried not to linger on the word we. Calypso had made it clear she wasnrsquo;t going.
ldquo;I can start chopping wood into boards tomorrow,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Few days, wersquo;ll have enough for a small hull.rdquo;
ldquo;Yoursquo;ve made a ship before,rdquo; Calypso remembered. ldquo;Your Argo II.rdquo;
Leo nodded. He thought about all those months hersquo;d spent creating the Argo II. Somehow, making a boat to sail from Ogygia seemed like a more daunting task.
ldquo;So how long until you sail?rdquo; Calypsorsquo;s tone was light, but she didnrsquo;t meet his eyes.
ldquo;Uh, not sure. Another week?rdquo; For some reason, saying that made Leo feel less agitated. When he had gotten here, he couldnrsquo;t wait to leave. Now, he was glad he had a few more days. Weird.
Calypso ran her fingers across the completed circuit board. ldquo;This took so long to make.rdquo;
ldquo;You canrsquo;t rush perfection.rdquo;
A smile tugged at the edge of her mouth. ldquo;Yes, but will it work?rdquo;
ldquo;Getting out, no problem,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;But to get back Irsquo;ll need Festus andmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo;
Leo blinked. ldquo;Festus. My bronze dragon. Once I figure out how to rebuild him, Irsquo;llmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;You told me about Festus,rdquo; Calypso said. ldquo;But what do you mean get back?rdquo;
Leo grinned nervously. ldquo;Wellhellip;to get back here, duh. Irsquo;m sure I said that.rdquo;
ldquo;You most definitely did not.rdquo;
ldquo;Irsquo;m not gonna leave you here! After you helped me and everything? Of course Irsquo;m coming back. Once I rebuild Festus, hersquo;ll be able to handle an improved guidance system. Therersquo;s this astrolabe that I, uhhellip;rdquo; He stopped, deciding it was best not to mention that it had been built by one of Calypsorsquo;s old flames. ldquo;hellip;that I found in Bologna. Anyway, I think with that crystal you gave memdash;rdquo;
ldquo;You canrsquo;t come back,rdquo; Calypso insisted.
Leorsquo;s heart went clunk. ldquo;Because Irsquo;m not welcome?rdquo;
ldquo;Because you canrsquo;t. Itrsquo;s impossible. No man finds Ogygia twice. That is the rule.rdquo;
Leo rolled his eyes. ldquo;Yeah, well, you mightrsquo;ve noticed Irsquo;m not good at following rules. Irsquo;m coming back here with my dragon, and wersquo;ll spring you. Take you wherever you want to go. Itrsquo;s only fair.rdquo;
ldquo;Fairhellip;rdquo; Calypsorsquo;s voice was barely audible.
In the firelight, her eyes looked so sad, Leo could
ldquo;You didnrsquo;t really think I could start Leo and Calypsorsquo;s Auto Repair without Calypso, did you?rdquo; he asked. ldquo;I canrsquo;t make cider and stew, and I sure canrsquo;t sing.rdquo;
She stared at the sand.
ldquo;Well, anyway,rdquo; Leo said, ldquo;tomorrow Irsquo;ll start on the lumber. And in a few dayshellip;rdquo;
He looked out over the water. Something was bobbing on the waves. Leo watched in disbelief as a large wooden raft floated in on the tide and slid to a stop on the beach.
Leo was too dazed to move, but Calypso sprang to her feet.
ldquo;Hurry!rdquo; She sprinted across the beach, grabbed some supply bags, and ran them to the raft. ldquo;I donrsquo;t know how long it will stay!rdquo;
ldquo;Buthellip;rdquo; Leo stood. His legs felt like theyrsquo;d turned to rock. He had just convinced himself he had another week on Ogygia. Now he didnrsquo;t have time to finish dinner. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s the magic raft?rdquo;
ldquo;Duh!rdquo; Calypso yelled. ldquo;It might work like itrsquo;s supposed to and take you where you want to go. But we canrsquo;t be sure. The islandrsquo;s magic is obviously unstable. You must rig up your guidance device to navigate.rdquo;
She snatched up the console and ran toward the raft, which got Leo moving. He helped her fasten it to the raft and run wires to the small rudder in the back. The raft was already fitted with a mast, so Leo and Calypso hauled their sail aboard and started on the rigging.
They worked side by side in perfect harmony. Even among the Hephaestus campers, Leo had never worked with anyone as intuitive as this immortal gardener girl. In no time, they had the sail in place and all the supplies aboard. Leo hit the buttons on the Archimedes sphere, muttered a prayer to his dad, Hephaestus, and the Celestial bronze console hummed to life.
The rigging tightened. The sail turned. The raft began scraping against the sand, straining to reach the waves.
ldquo;Go,rdquo; Calypso said.
Leo turned. She was so close he couldnrsquo;t stand it. She smelled like cinnamon and wood smoke, and he thought hersquo;d never smell anything that good again.
ldquo;The raft finally got here,rdquo; he said.
Calypso snorted. Her eyes might have been red, but it was hard to tell in the moonlight. ldquo;You just noticed?rdquo;
ldquo;But if it only shows up for guys you likemdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Donrsquo;t push your luck, Leo Valdez,rdquo; she said. ldquo;I still hate you.rdquo;
ldquo;Okay.rdquo;
ldquo;And you are not coming back here,rdquo; she insisted. ldquo;So donrsquo;t give me any empty promises.rdquo;
ldquo;How about a full promise?rdquo; he said. ldquo;Because Irsquo;m definitelymdash;rdquo;
She grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss, which effectively shut him up.
For all his joking and flirting, Leo had never kissed a girl before. Well, sisterly pecks on the cheek from Piper, but that didnrsquo;t count. This was a real, full-contact kiss. If Leo had had gears and wires in his brain, they wouldrsquo;ve short-circuited.
Calypso pushed him away. ldquo;That didnrsquo;t happen.rdquo;
ldquo;Okay.rdquo; His voice sounded an octave higher than usual.
ldquo;Get out of here.rdquo;
ldquo;Okay.rdquo;
She turned, wiping her eyes furiously, and stormed up the beach, the breeze tousling her hair.
Leo wanted to call to her, but the sail caught the full force of the wind, and the raft cleared the beach. He struggled to align the guidance console. By the time Leo looked back, the island of Ogygia was a dark line in the distance, their campfire pulsing like a tiny orange heart.
His lips still tingled from the kiss.
That didnrsquo;t happen, he told himself. I canrsquo;t be in love with an immortal girl. She definitely canrsquo;t be in love with me. Not possible.
As his raft skimmed over the water, taking him back to the mortal world, he understood a line from the Prophecy bettermdash;an oath to keep with a final breath.
He understood how dangerous oaths could be. But Leo didnrsquo;t care.
ldquo;Irsquo;m coming back for you, Calypso,rdquo; he said to the night wind. ldquo;I swear it on the River Styx.rdquo;
ANNABETH HAD NEVER BEEN SCARED OF THE DARK.
But normally the dark wasnrsquo;t forty feet tall. It didnrsquo;t have black wings, a whip made out of stars, and a shadowy chariot pulled by vampire horses.
Nyx was almost too much to take in. Looming over the chasm, she was a churning figure of ash and smoke, as big as the Athena Parthenos statue, but very much alive. Her dress was void black, mixed with the colors of a space nebula, as if galaxies were being born in her bodice. Her face was hard to see except for the pinpoints of her eyes, which shone like quasars. When her wings beat, waves of darkness rolled over the cliffs, making Annabeth feel heavy and sleepy, her eyesight dim.
The goddessrsquo;s chariot was made of the same material as Nico di Angelorsquo;s swordmdash;Stygian ironmdash;and pulled by two massive horses, all black except for their pointed silver fangs. The beastsrsquo; legs floated in the abyss, turning from solid to smoke as they moved.
The horses snarled and bared their fangs at Annabeth. The goddess lashed her whipmdash;a thin streak of stars like diamond barbsmdash;and the horses reared back.
ldquo;No, Shade,rdquo; the goddess said. ldquo;Down, Shadow. These little prizes are not for you.rdquo;
Percy eyed the horses as they nickered. He was still shrouded in Death Mist, so he looked like an out-of-focus corpsemdash;which broke Annabethrsquo;s heart every time she saw him. It also must not have been very good camouflage, since Nyx could obviously see them.
Annabeth couldnrsquo;t read the expression on Percyrsquo;s ghoulish face very well. Apparently he didnrsquo;t like whatever the horses were saying.
ldquo;Uh, so you wonrsquo;t let them eat us?rdquo; he asked the goddess. ldquo;They really want to eat us.rdquo;
Nyxrsquo;s quasar eyes burned. ldquo;Of course not. I would not let my horses eat you, any more than I would let Akhlys kill you. Such fine prizes, I will kill myself!rdquo;
Annabeth didnrsquo;t feel particularly witty or courageous, but her instincts told her to take the initiative, or this would be a very short conversation.
ldquo;Oh, donrsquo;t kill yourself!rdquo; she cried. ldquo;Wersquo;re not that scary.rdquo;
The goddess lowered her whip. ldquo;What? No, I didnrsquo;t meanmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Well, Irsquo;d hope not!rdquo; Annabeth looked at Percy and forced a laugh. ldquo;We wouldnrsquo;t want to scare her, would we?rdquo;
ldquo;Ha, ha,rdquo; Percy said weakly. ldquo;No, we wouldnrsquo;t.rdquo;
The vampire horses looked confused. They reared and snorted and knocked their dark heads together. Nyx pulled back on the reins.
ldquo;Do you know who I am?rdquo; she demanded.
ldquo;Well, yoursquo;re Night, I suppose,rdquo; said Annabeth. ldquo;I mean, I can tell because yoursquo;re dark and everything, though the brochure didnrsquo;t say much about you.rdquo;
Nyxrsquo;s eyes winked out for a moment. ldquo;What brochure?rdquo;
Annabeth patted her pockets. ldquo;We had one, didnrsquo;t we?rdquo;
Percy licked his lips. ldquo;Uh-huh.rdquo; He was still watching the horses, his hand tight on his sword hilt, but he was smart enough to follow Annabethrsquo;s lead. Now she just had to hope she wasnrsquo;t making things worsehellip;though honestly, she didnrsquo;t see how things could be worse.
ldquo;Anyway,rdquo; she said, ldquo;I guess the brochure didnrsquo;t say much, because you werenrsquo;t spotlighted on the tour. We got to see the River Phlegethon, the Cocytus, the arai, the poison glade of Akhlys, even some random Titans and giants, but Nyxhellip;hmm, no, you werenrsquo;t really featured.rdquo;
ldquo;Featured? Spotlighted?rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Percy said, warming up to the idea. ldquo;We came down here for the Tartarus tourmdash;like, exotic destinations, you know? The Underworld is overdone. Mount Olympus is a tourist trapmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Gods, totally!rdquo; Annabeth agreed. ldquo;So we booked the Tartarus excursion, but no one even mentioned wersquo;d run into Nyx. Huh. Oh, well. Guess they didnrsquo;t think you were important.rdquo;
ldquo;Not important!rdquo; Nyx cracked her whip. Her horses bucked and snapped their silvery fangs. Waves of darkness rolled out of the chasm, turning Annabethrsquo;s insides to jelly, but she couldnrsquo;t show her fear.
She pushed down Percyrsquo;s sword arm, forcing him to lower his weapon. This was a goddess beyond anything they had ever faced. Nyx was older than any Olympian or Titan or giant, older even than Gaea. She couldnrsquo;t be defeated by two demigodsmdash;at least not two demigods using force.
Annabeth made herself look at the goddessrsquo;s massive dark face.
ldquo;Well, how many other demigods have come to see you on the tour?rdquo; she asked innocently.
Nyxrsquo;s hand went slack on the reins. ldquo;None. Not one. This is unacceptable!rdquo;
Annabeth shrugged. ldquo;Maybe itrsquo;s because you havenrsquo;t really done anything to get in the news. I mean, I can understand Tartarus being important! This whole place is named after him. Or, if we could meet Daymdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, yeah,rdquo; Percy chimed in. ldquo;Day? She would be impressive. Irsquo;d totally want to meet her. Maybe get her autograph.rdquo;
ldquo;Day!rdquo; Nyx gripped the rail of her black chariot. The whole vehicle shuddered. ldquo;You mean Hemera? She is my daughter! Night is much more powerful than Day!rdquo;
ldquo;Eh,rdquo; said Annabeth. ldquo;I liked the arai, or even Akhlys better.rdquo;
ldquo;They are my children as well!rdquo;
Percy stifled a yawn. ldquo;Got a lot of children, huh?rdquo;
ldquo;I am the mother of all terrors!rdquo; Nyx cried. ldquo;The Fates themselves! Hecate! Old Age! Pain! Sleep! Death! And all of the curses! Behold how newsworthy I am!rdquo;
NYX LASHED HER WHIP AGAIN. The darkness congealed around her. On either side, an army of shadows appearedmdash;more dark-winged arai, which Annabeth was not thrilled to see; a withered man who must have been Geras, the god of old age; and a younger woman in a black toga, her eyes gleaming and her smile like a serial killerrsquo;smdash;no doubt Eris, the goddess of strife. More kept appearing: dozens of demons and minor gods, each one the spawn of Night.
Annabeth wanted to run. She was facing a brood of horrors that could snap anyonersquo;s sanity. But if she ran, she would die.
Next to her, Percyrsquo;s breathing turned shallow. Even through his misty ghoul disguise, Annabeth could tell he was on the verge of panic. She had to stand her ground for both of them.
I am a daughter of Athena, she thought. I control my own mind.
She imagined a mental frame around what she was seeing. She told herself it was just a moviemdash;a scary movie, sure, but it could not hurt her. She was in control.
ldquo;Yeah, not bad,rdquo; she admitted. ldquo;I guess we could get one picture for the scrapbook, but I donrsquo;t know. You guys are sohellip;dark. Even if I used a flash, Irsquo;m not sure it would come out.rdquo;
ldquo;Uh-huh.rdquo; Annabeth turned to Percy. ldquo;Well, itrsquo;s getting late. We should probably get lunch at one of those restaurants the tour guide recommended. Then we can find the Doors of Death.rdquo;
ldquo;Aha!rdquo; Nyx cried in triumph. Her brood of shadows stirred and echoed: ldquo;Aha! Aha!rdquo;
ldquo;You wish to see the Doors of Death?rdquo; Nyx asked. ldquo;They lie at the very heart of Tartarus. Mortals such as you could never reach them, except through the halls of my palacemdash;the Mansion of Night!rdquo;
She gestured behind her. Floating in the abyss, maybe three hundred feet below, was a doorway of black marble, leading into some sort of large room.
Annabethrsquo;s heart pounded so strongly she felt it in her toes. That was the way forwardmdash;but it was so far down, an impossible jump. If they missed, they would fall into Chaos and be scattered into nothingnessmdash;a final death with no do-over. Even if they could make the jump, the goddess of night and her most fearsome children stood in their way.
With a jolt, Annabeth realized what needed to happen. Like everything shersquo;d ever done, it was a long shot. In a way, that calmed her down. A crazy idea in the face of death?
Okay, her body seemed to say, relaxing. This is familiar territory.
She managed a bored sigh. ldquo;I suppose we could do one picture, but a group shot wonrsquo;t work. Nyx, how about one of you with your favorite child? Which one is that?rdquo;
The brood rustled. Dozens of horrible glowing eyes turned toward Nyx.
The goddess shifted uncomfortably, as if her chariot were heating up under her feet. Her shadow horses huffed and pawed at the void.
ldquo;My favorite child?rdquo; she asked. ldquo;All my children are terrifying!rdquo;
Percy snorted. ldquo;Seriously? Irsquo;ve met the Fates. Irsquo;ve met Thanatos. They werenrsquo;t so scary. Yoursquo;ve got to have somebody in this crowd whorsquo;s worse than that.rdquo;
ldquo;The darkest,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;The most like you.rdquo;
ldquo;I am the darkest,rdquo; hissed Eris. ldquo;Wars and strife! I have caused all manner of death!rdquo;
ldquo;I am darker still!rdquo; snarled Geras. ldquo;I dim the eyes and addle the brain. Every mortal fears old age!rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, yeah,rdquo; Annabeth said, trying to ignore her chattering teeth. ldquo;Irsquo;m not seeing enough dark. I mean, yoursquo;re the children of Night! Show me dark!rdquo;
The horde of arai wailed, flapping their leathery wings and stirring up clouds of blackness. Geras spread his withered hands and dimmed the entire abyss. Eris breathed a shadowy spray of buckshot across the void.
ldquo;I am the darkest!rdquo; hissed one of the demons.
ldquo;No, I!rdquo;
ldquo;No! Behold my darkness!rdquo;
If a thousand giant octopuses had squirted ink at the same time, at the bottom of the deepest, most sunless ocean trench, it could not have been blacker. Annabeth might as well have been blind. She gripped Percyrsquo;s hand and steeled her nerves.
ldquo;Wait!rdquo; Nyx called, suddenly panicked. ldquo;I canrsquo;t see anything.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes!rdquo; shouted one of her children proudly. ldquo;I did that!rdquo;
ldquo;No, I did!rdquo;
ldquo;Fool, it was me!rdquo;
Dozens of voices argued in the darkness.
The horses whinnied in alarm.
ldquo;Stop it!rdquo; Nyx yelled. ldquo;Whose foot is that?rdquo;
ldquo;Eris is hitting me!rdquo; cried someone. ldquo;Mother, tell her to stop hitting me!rdquo;
ldquo;I did not!rdquo; yelled Eris. ldquo;Ouch!rdquo;
The sounds of scuffling got louder. If possible, the darkness became even deeper. Annabethrsquo;s eyes dilated so much, they felt like they were being pulled out of their sockets.
She squeezed Percyrsquo;s hand. ldquo;Ready?rdquo;
ldquo;For what?rdquo; After a pause, he grunted unhappily. ldquo;Poseidonrsquo;s underpants, you canrsquo;t be serious.rdquo;
ldquo;Somebody give me light!rdquo; Nyx screamed. ldquo;Gah! I canrsquo;t believe I just said that!rdquo;
ldquo;Itrsquo;s a trick!rdquo; Eris yelled. ldquo;The demigods are escaping!rdquo;
ldquo;Irsquo;ve got them,rdquo; screamed an arai.
ldquo;No, thatrsquo;s my neck!rdquo; Geras gagged.
ldquo;Jump!rdquo; Annabeth told Percy.
They leaped into the darkness, aiming for the doorway far, far below.
AFTER THEIR FALL INTO TARTARUS, jumping three hundred feet to the Mansion of Night should have felt quick.
Instead, Annabethrsquo;s heart seemed to slow down. Between the beats she had ample time to write her own obituary.
Annabeth Chase, died age 17.
BA-BOOM.
(Assuming her birthday, July 12, had passed while she was in Tartarus; but honestly, she had no idea.)
BA-BOOM.
Died of massive injuries while leaping like an idiot into the abyss of Chaos and splattering on the entry hall floor of Nyxrsquo;s mansion.
BA-BOOM.
Survived by her father, stepmother, and two stepbrothers who barely knew her.
BA-BOOM.
In lieu of flowers, please send donations to Camp Half-Blood, assuming Gaea hasnrsquo;t already destroyed it.
Her feet hit solid floor. Pain shot up her legs, but she stumbled forward and broke into a run, hauling Percy after her.
Above them in the dark, Nyx and her children scuffled and yelled, ldquo;Irsquo;ve got them! My foot! Stop it!rdquo;
Annabeth kept running. She couldnrsquo;t see anyway, so she closed her eyes. She used her other sensesmdash;listening for the echo of open spaces, feeling for cross-breezes against her face, sniffing for any scent of dangermdash;smoke, or poison, or the stench of demons.
It wasnrsquo;t the first time shersquo;d plunged through darkness. She imagined she was back in the tunnels under Rome, searching out the Athena Parthenos. In retrospect, her journey to Arachnersquo;s cavern seemed like a trip to Disneyland.
The squabbling sounds of Nyxrsquo;s children got farther away. That was good. Percy was still running at her side, holding her hand. Also good.
In the distance ahead of them, Annabeth began to hear a throbbing sound, like her own heartbeat echoing back, amplified so powerfully, the floor vibrated underfoot. The sound filled her with dread, so she figured it must be the right way to go. She ran toward it.
As the beat got louder, she smelled smoke and heard the flickering of torches on either side. She guessed there would be light, but a crawling sensation across her neck warned her it would be a mistake to open her eyes.
ldquo;Donrsquo;t look,rdquo; she told Percy.
ldquo;Wasnrsquo;t planning on it,rdquo; he said. ldquo;You can feel that, right? Wersquo;re still in the Mansion of Night. I do not want to see it.rdquo;
Smart boy, Annabeth thought. She used to tease Percy for being dumb, but in truth his instincts were usually right on target.
Whatever horrors lay in the Mansion of Night, they werenrsquo;t meant for mortal eyes. Seeing them would be worse than staring at the face of Medusa. Better to run in darkness.
The throbbing got louder still, sending vibrations straight up Annabethrsquo;s spine. It felt like someone was knocking on the bottom of the world, demanding to be let in. She sensed the walls opening up on either side of them. The air smelled freshermdash;or at least not quite as sulfurous. There was another sound, too, closer than the deep pulsinghellip;the sound of flowing water.
Annabethrsquo;s heart raced. She knew the exit was close. If they could make it out of the Mansion of Night, maybe they could leave the dark brood of demons behind.
She began to run faster, which would have meant her death if Percy hadnrsquo;t stopped her.
ldquo;ANNABETH!rdquo; PERCY PULLED HER BACK just as her foot hit the edge of a drop-off. She almost pitched forward into who-knew-what, but Percy grabbed her and wrapped her in his arms.
ldquo;Itrsquo;s okay,rdquo; he promised.
She pressed her face into his shirt and kept her eyes closed tight. She was trembling, but not just from fear. Percyrsquo;s embrace was so warm and comforting she wanted to stay there forever, safe and protectedhellip;but that wasnrsquo;t reality. She couldnrsquo;t afford to relax. She couldnrsquo;t lean on Percy any more than she had to. He needed her, too.
ldquo;Thankshellip;rdquo; She gently disentangled herself from his arms. ldquo;Can you tell whatrsquo;s in front of us?rdquo;
ldquo;Water,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Irsquo;m still not looking. I donrsquo;t think itrsquo;s safe yet.rdquo;
ldquo;Agreed.rdquo;
ldquo;I can sense a riverhellip;or maybe itrsquo;s a moat. Itrsquo;s blocking our path, flowing left to right through a channel cut in the rock. The opposite side is about twenty feet away.rdquo;
Annabeth mentally scolded herself. Shersquo;d heard the flowing water, but she had never considered she might be running headlong into it.
ldquo;Is there a bridge, ormdash;?rdquo;
ldquo;I donrsquo;t think so,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;And therersquo;s something wrong with the water. Listen.rdquo;
Annabeth concentrated. Within the roaring current, thousands of voices cried outmdash;shrieking in agony, pleading for mercy.
Help! they groaned. It was an accident!
The pain! their voices wailed. Make it stop!
Annabeth didnrsquo;t need her eyes to visualize the rivermdash;a black briny current filled with tortured souls being swept deeper and deeper into Tartarus.
ldquo;The River Acheron,rdquo; she guessed. ldquo;The fifth river of the Underworld.rdquo;
ldquo;I liked the Phlegethon better than this,rdquo; Percy muttered.
ldquo;Itrsquo;s the River of Pain. The ultimate punishment for the souls of the damnedmdash;murderers, especially.rdquo;
Murderers! the river wailed. Yes, like you!
Join us, another voice whispered. You are no better than we are.
Annabethrsquo;s head was flooded with images of all the monsters shersquo;d killed over the years.
That wasnrsquo;t murder, she protested. I was defending myself!
The river changed course through her mindmdash;showing her Zoë Nightshade, who had been slain on Mount Tamalpais because shersquo;d come to rescue Annabeth from the Titans.
She saw Nicorsquo;s sister, Bianca di Angelo, dying in the collapse of the metal giant Talos, because she also had tried to save Annabeth.
Michael Yew and Silena Beauregardhellip;who had died in the Battle of Manhattan.
You could have prevented it, the river told Annabeth. You should have seen a better way.
Most painful of all: Luke Castellan. Annabeth remembered Lukersquo;s blood on her dagger after hersquo;d sacrificed himself to stop Kronos from destroying Olympus.
His blood is on your hands! the river wailed. There should have been another way!
Annabeth had wrestled with the same thought many times. Shersquo;d tried to convince herself Lukersquo;s death wasnrsquo;t her fault. Luke had chosen his fate. Stillhellip;she didnrsquo;t know if his soul had found peace in the Underworld, or if hersquo;d been reborn, or if hersquo;d been washed into Tartarus because of his crimes. He might be one of the tortured voices flowing past right now.
You murdered him! the river cried. Jump in and share his punishment!
Percy gripped her arm. ldquo;Donrsquo;t listen.rdquo;
ldquo;Butmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I know.rdquo; His voice sounded as brittle as ice. ldquo;Theyrsquo;re telling me the sam
ldquo;Yeah. Yoursquo;ll have to trust me. Put your arms around my neck and hang on.rdquo;
ldquo;How can you possiblymdash;rdquo;
ldquo;There!rdquo; cried a voice behind them. ldquo;Kill the ungrateful tourists!rdquo;
The children of Nyx had found them. Annabeth wrapped her arms around Percyrsquo;s neck. ldquo;Go!rdquo;
With her eyes closed, she could only guess how he managed it. Maybe he used the force of the river somehow. Maybe he was just scared out of his mind and charged with adrenaline. Percy leaped with more strength than she would have thought possible. They sailed through the air as the river churned and wailed below them, splashing Annabethrsquo;s bare ankles with stinging brine.
Thenmdash;CLUMP. They were on solid ground again.
ldquo;You can open your eyes,rdquo; Percy said, breathing hard. ldquo;But you wonrsquo;t like what you see.rdquo;
Annabeth blinked. After the darkness of Nyx, even the dim red glow of Tartarus seemed blinding.
Before them stretched a valley big enough to fit the San Francisco Bay. The booming noise came from the entire landscape, as if thunder were echoing from beneath the ground. Under poisonous clouds, the rolling terrain glistened purple with dark red and blue scar lines.
ldquo;It looks likehellip;rdquo; Annabeth fought down her revulsion. ldquo;Like a giant heart.rdquo;
ldquo;The heart of Tartarus,rdquo; Percy murmured.
The center of the valley was covered with a fine black fuzz of peppery dots. They were so far away, it took Annabeth a moment to realize she was looking at an armymdash;thousands, maybe tens of thousands of monsters, gathered around a central pinpoint of darkness. It was too far to see any details, but Annabeth had no doubt what the pinpoint was. Even from the edge of the valley, Annabeth could feel its power tugging at her soul.
ldquo;The Doors of Death.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah.rdquo; Percyrsquo;s voice was hoarse. He still had the pale, wasted complexion of a corpsehellip;which meant he looked about as good as Annabeth felt.
She realized shersquo;d forgotten all about their pursuers. ldquo;What happened to Nyxhellip;?rdquo;
She turned. Somehow theyrsquo;d landed several hundred yards from the banks of Acheron, which flowed through a channel cut into black volcanic hills. Beyond that was nothing but darkness.
No sign of anyone coming after them. Apparently even the minions of Night didnrsquo;t like to cross the Acheron.
She was about to ask Percy how he had jumped so far when she heard the skittering of a rockslide in the hills to their left. She drew her drakon-bone sword. Percy raised Riptide.
A patch of glowing white hair appeared over the ridge, then a familiar grinning face with pure silver eyes.
ldquo;Bob?rdquo; Annabeth was so happy she actually jumped. ldquo;Oh my gods!rdquo;
ldquo;Friends!rdquo; The Titan lumbered toward them. The bristles of his broom had been burned off. His janitorrsquo;s uniform was slashed with new claw marks, but he looked delighted. On his shoulder, Small Bob the kitten purred almost as loudly as the pulsing heart of Tartarus.
ldquo;I found you!rdquo; Bob gathered them both in a rib-crushing hug. ldquo;You look like smoking dead people. That is good!rdquo;
ldquo;Urf,rdquo; Percy said. ldquo;How did you get here? Through the Mansion of Night?rdquo;
ldquo;No, no.rdquo; Bob shook his head adamantly. ldquo;That place is too scary. Another waymdash;only good for Titans and such.rdquo;
ldquo;Let me guess,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;You went sideways.rdquo;
Bob scratched his chin, evidently at a loss for words. ldquo;Hmm. No. Morehellip;diagonal.rdquo;
Annabeth laughed. Here they were at the heart of Tartarus, facing an impossible armymdash;she would take any comfort she could get. She was ridiculously glad to have Bob the Titan with them again.
She kissed his immortal nose, which made him blink.
ldquo;We stay together now?rdquo; he asked.
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Annabeth agreed. ldquo;Time to see if this Death Mist works.rdquo;
ldquo;And if it doesnrsquo;thellip;rdquo; Percy stopped himself.
There was no point in wondering about that. They were about to march into the middle of an enemy army. If they were spotted, they were dead.
Despite that, Annabeth managed a smile. Their goal was in sight. They had a Titan with a broom and a very loud kitten on their side. That had to count for something.
ldquo;Doors of Death,rdquo; she said, ldquo;here we come.rdquo;
JASON WASNrsquo;T SURE WHAT TO HOPE FOR: storm or fire.
As he waited for his daily audience with the lord of the South Wind, he tried to decide which of the godrsquo;s personalities, Roman or Greek, was worse. But after five days in the palace, he was only certain about one thing: he and his crew were unlikely to get out of here alive.
He leaned against the balcony rail. The air was so hot and dry, it sucked the moisture right out of his lungs. Over the last week, his skin had gotten darker. His hair had turned as white as corn silk. Whenever he glanced in the mirror, he was startled by the wild, empty look in his eyes, as if hersquo;d gone blind wandering in the desert.
A hundred feet below, the bay glittered against a crescent of red sand beach. They were somewhere on the northern coast of Africa. Thatrsquo;s as much as the wind spirits would tell him.
The palace itself stretched out on either side of himmdash;a honeycomb of halls and tunnels, balconies, colonnades, and cavernous rooms carved into the sandstone cliffs, all designed for the wind to blow through and make as much noise as possible. The constant pipe-organ sounds reminded Jason of the floating lair of Aeolus, back in Colorado, except here the winds seemed in no hurry.
Which was part of the problem.
On their best days, the southern venti were slow and lazy. On their worst days, they were gusty and angry. Theyrsquo;d initially welcomed the Argo II, since any enemy of Boreas was a friend of the South Wind, but they seemed to have forgotten that the demigods were their guests. The venti had quickly lost interest in helping repair the ship. Their kingrsquo;s mood got worse every day.
Down at the dock, Jasonrsquo;s friends were working on the Argo II. The main sail had been repaired, the rigging replaced. Now they were mending the oars. Without Leo, they were unable to repair the more complicated parts of the ship, even with the help of Buford the table and Festus (who was now permanently activated thanks to Piperrsquo;s charmspeakmdash;and none of them understood that). But they kept trying.
Hazel and Frank stood at the helm, tinkering with the controls. Piper relayed their commands to Coach Hedge, who was hanging over the side of the ship, banging out dents in the oars. Hedge was well suited for banging on things.
They didnrsquo;t seem to be making much progress, but considering what theyrsquo;d been through, it was a miracle the ship was in one piece.
Jason shivered when he thought about Khionersquo;s attack. Hersquo;d been rendered helplessmdash;frozen solid not once but twice, while Leo was blasted into the sky and Piper was forced to save them all single-handedly.
Thank the gods for Piper. She considered herself a failure for not having stopped the wind bomb from exploding; but the truth was, shersquo;d saved the entire crew from becoming ice sculptures in Quebec.
Shersquo;d also managed to direct the explosion of the icy sphere, so even though the ship had been pushed halfway across the Mediterranean, it had sustained relatively minor damage.
Down at the dock, Hedge yelled, ldquo;Try it now!rdquo;
Hazel and Frank pulled some of the levers. The port oars went crazy, chopping up and down and doing the wave. Coach Hedge tried to dodge, but one smacked him in the rear and launched him into the air. He came down screaming and splashed into the bay.
Jason sighed. At this rate, theyrsquo;d never be able to sail, even if the southern venti allowed them to. Somewhere in the north, Reyna was flying toward Epirus, assuming shersquo;d gotten his note at Diocletianrsquo;s Palace. Leo was lost and in trouble. Percy and Annabethhellip;well, best-case scenario they were still alive, making their way to the Doors of Death. Jason couldnrsquo;t let them down.
A rustling sound made him turn. Nico di Angelo stood in the shadow of the nearest column. Hersquo;d shed his jacket. Now he just wore his black T-shirt and black jeans. His sword and the scepter of Diocletian hung on either side of his belt.
Days in the hot sun hadnrsquo;t tanned his skin. If anything, he looked paler. His dark hair fell over his eyes. His face was still gaunt, but he was definitely in better shape than when theyrsquo;d left Croatia. He had regained enough weight not to look starved. His arms were surprisingly taut with muscles, as if hersquo;d spent the past week sword fighting. For all Jason knew, hersquo;d been slipping off to practice raising spirits with Diocletianrsquo;s scepter, then sparring with them. After their expedition in Split, nothing would surprise him.
ldquo;Any word from the king?rdquo; Nico asked.
Jason shook his head. ldquo;Every day, he calls for me later and later.rdquo;
ldquo;We need to leave,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;Soon.rdquo;
Jason had been having the same feeling, but hearing Nico say it made him even edgier. ldquo;You sense something?rdquo;
ldquo;Percy is close to the Doors,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;Hersquo;ll need us if hersquo;s going to make it through alive.rdquo;
Jason noticed that he didnrsquo;t mention Annabeth. He decided not to bring that up.
ldquo;All right,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;But if we canrsquo;t repair the shipmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I promised Irsquo;d lead you to the House of Hades,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;One way or another, I will.rdquo;
ldquo;You canrsquo;t shadow-travel with all of us. And it will take all of us to reach the Doors of Death.rdquo;
The orb at the end of Diocletianrsquo;s scepter glowed purple. Over the past week, it seemed to have aligned itself to Nico di Angelorsquo;s moods. Jason wasnrsquo;t sure that was a good thing.
ldquo;Then yoursquo;ve got to convince the king of the South Wind to help.rdquo; Nicorsquo;s voice seethed with anger. ldquo;I didnrsquo;t come all this way, suffer so many humiliationshellip;rdquo;
Jason had to make a conscious effort not to reach for his sword. Whenever Nico got angry, all of Jasonrsquo;s instincts screamed, Danger!
ldquo;Look, Nico,rdquo; he said, ldquo;Irsquo;m here if you want to talk about, you know, what happened in Croatia. I get how difficultmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;You donrsquo;t get anything.rdquo;
ldquo;Nobodyrsquo;s going to judge you.rdquo;
Nicorsquo;s mouth twisted in a sneer. ldquo;Really? That would be a first. Irsquo;m the son of Hades, Jason. I might as well be covered in blood or sewage, the way people treat me. I donrsquo;t belong anywhere. Irsquo;m not even from this century. But even thatrsquo;s not enough to set me apart. Irsquo;ve got to bemdash;to bemdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Dude! Itrsquo;s not like yoursquo;ve got a choice. Itrsquo;s just who you are.rdquo;
ldquo;Just who I amhellip;rdquo; The balcony trembled. Patterns shifted in the stone floor, like bones coming to the surface. ldquo;Easy for you to say. Yoursquo;re everybodyrsquo;s golden boy, the son of Jupiter. The only person who ever accepted me was Bianca, a
The floor cracked between them. The crevice hissed. The air around Nico shimmered with spectral light.
ldquo;Hiding?rdquo; Nicorsquo;s voice was deadly quiet.
Jasonrsquo;s fingers itched to draw his sword. Hersquo;d met plenty of scary demigods, but he was starting to realize that Nico di Angelomdash;as pale and gaunt as he lookedmdash;might be more than he could handle.
Nevertheless, he held Nicorsquo;s gaze. ldquo;Yes, hiding. Yoursquo;ve run away from both camps. Yoursquo;re so afraid yoursquo;ll get rejected that you wonrsquo;t even try. Maybe itrsquo;s time you come out of the shadows.rdquo;
Just when the tension became unbearable, Nico dropped his eyes. The fissure closed in the balcony floor. The ghostly light faded.
ldquo;Irsquo;m going to honor my promise,rdquo; Nico said, not much louder than a whisper. ldquo;Irsquo;ll take you to Epirus. Irsquo;ll help you close the Doors of Death. Then thatrsquo;s it. Irsquo;m leavingmdash;forever.rdquo;
Behind them, the doors of the throne room blasted open with a gust of scorching air.
A disembodied voice said: Lord Auster will see you now.
As much as he dreaded this meeting, Jason felt relieved. At the moment, arguing with a crazy wind god seemed safer than befriending an angry son of Hades. He turned to tell Nico good-bye, but Nico had disappearedmdash;melting back into the darkness.
SO IT WAS A STORM DAY. Auster, the Roman version of the South Wind, was holding court.
The two previous days, Jason had dealt with Notus. While the godrsquo;s Greek version was fiery and quick to anger, at least he was quick. Austerhellip;well, not so much.
White and red marble columns lined the throne room. The rough sandstone floor smoked under Jasonrsquo;s shoes. Steam hung in the air, like the bathhouse back at Camp Jupiter, except bathhouses usually didnrsquo;t have thunderstorms crackling across the ceiling, lighting the room in disorienting flashes.
Southern venti swirled through the hall in clouds of red dust and superheated air. Jason was careful to stay away from them. On his first day here, hersquo;d accidentally brushed his hand through one. Hersquo;d gotten so many blisters, his fingers looked like tentacles.
At the end of the room was the strangest throne Jason had ever seenmdash;made of equal parts fire and water. The dais was a bonfire. Flames and smoke curled up to form a seat. The back of the chair was a churning storm cloud. The armrests sizzled where moisture met fire. It didnrsquo;t look very comfortable, but the god Auster lounged on it like he was ready for an easy afternoon of watching football.
Standing up, he would have been about ten feet tall. A crown of steam wreathed his shaggy white hair. His beard was made of clouds, constantly popping with lightning and raining down on the godrsquo;s chest, soaking his sand-colored toga. Jason wondered if you could shave a thundercloud beard. He thought it might be annoying to rain on yourself all the time, but Auster didnrsquo;t seem to care. He reminded Jason of a soggy Santa Claus, but more lazy than jolly.
ldquo;Sohellip;rdquo; The godrsquo;s voice rumbled like an oncoming front. ldquo;The son of Jupiter returns.rdquo;
Auster made it sound like Jason was late. Jason was tempted to remind the stupid wind god that he had spent hours outside every day waiting to be called, but he just bowed.
ldquo;My lord,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Have you received any news of my friend?rdquo;
ldquo;Friend?rdquo;
ldquo;Leo Valdez.rdquo; Jason tried to stay patient. ldquo;The one who was taken by the winds.rdquo;
ldquo;Ohhellip;yes. Or rather, no. We have had no word. He was not taken by my winds. No doubt this was the work of Boreas or his spawn.rdquo;
ldquo;Uh, yes. We knew that.rdquo;
ldquo;That is the only reason I took you in, of course.rdquo; Austerrsquo;s eyebrows rose into his wreath of steam. ldquo;Boreas must be opposed! The north winds must be driven back!rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, my lord. But to oppose Boreas, we really need to get our ship out of the harbor.rdquo;
ldquo;Ship in the harbor!rdquo; The god leaned back and chuckled, rain pouring out of his beard. ldquo;You know the last time mortal ships came into my harbor? A king of Libyahellip;Psyollos was his name. He blamed me for the scorching winds that burned his crops. Can you believe it?rdquo;
Jason gritted his teeth. Hersquo;d learned that Auster couldnrsquo;t be rushed. In his rainy form, he was sluggish and warm and random.
ldquo;And did you burn those crops, my lord?rdquo;
ldquo;Of course!rdquo; Auster smiled good-naturedly. ldquo;But what did Psyollos expect, planting crops at the edge of the Sahara? The fool launched his entire fleet against me. He intended to destroy my stronghold so the south wind could never blow again. I destroyed his fleet, of course.rdquo;
ldquo;Of course.rdquo;
Auster narrowed his eyes. ldquo;You arenrsquo;t with Psyollos, are you?rdquo;
ldquo;No, Lord Auster. Irsquo;m Jason Grace, son ofmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Jupiter! Yes, of course. I like sons of Jupiter. But why are you still in my harbor?rdquo;
Jason suppressed a sigh. ldquo;We donrsquo;t have your permission to leave, my lord. Also, our ship is damaged. We need our mechanic, Leo Valdez, to repair the engine, unless you know of another way.rdquo;
ldquo;Hmm.rdquo; Auster held up his fingers and let a dust devil swirl between them like a baton. ldquo;You know, people accuse me of being fickle. Some days I am the scorching wind, the destroyer of crops, the sirocco from Africa! Other days I am gentle, heralding the warm summer rains and cooling fogs of the southern Mediterranean. And in the off-season, I have a lovely place in Cancun! At any rate, in ancient times, mortals both feared me and loved me. For a god, unpredictability can be a strength.rdquo;
ldquo;Then you are truly strong,rdquo; Jason said.
ldquo;Thank you! Yes! But the same is not true of demigods.rdquo; Auster leaned forward, close enough so that Jason could smell rain-soaked fields and hot sandy beaches. ldquo;You remind me of my own children, Jason Grace. You have blown from place to place. You are undecided. You change day to day. If you could turn the wind sock, which way would it blow?rdquo;
Sweat trickled between Jasonrsquo;s shoulder blades. ldquo;Excuse me?rdquo;
ldquo;You say you need a navigator. You need my permission. I say you need neither. It is time to choose a direction. A wind that blows aimlessly is of no use to anyone.rdquo;
Even as he said it, he did understand. Nico had talked about not belonging anywhere. At least Nico was free of attachments. He could go wherever he chose.
For months, Jason had been wrestling with the question of where he belonged. Hersquo;d always chafed against the traditions of Camp Jupiter, the power plays, the infighting. But Reyna was a good person. She needed his help. If he turned his back on herhellip;someone like Octavian could take over and ruin everything Jason did love about New Rome. Could he be so selfish as to leave? The very idea crushed him with guilt.
But in his heart, he wanted to be at Camp Half-Blood. The months hersquo;d spent there with Piper and Leo had felt more satisfying, more right than all his years at Camp Jupiter. Besides, at Camp Half-Blood, there was at least a chance he might meet his father someday. The gods hardly ever stopped by Camp Jupiter to say hello.
Jason took a shaky breath. ldquo;Yes. I know the direction I want to take.rdquo;
ldquo;Good! And?rdquo;
ldquo;Uh, we still need a way to fix the ship. Is theremdash;?rdquo;
Auster raised an index finger. ldquo;Still expecting guidance from the wind lords? A son of Jupiter should know better.rdquo;
Jason hesitated. ldquo;Wersquo;re leaving, Lord Auster. Today.rdquo;
The wind god grinned and spread his hands. ldquo;At last, you announce your purpose! Then you have my permission to go, though you do not need it. And how will you sail without your engineer, without your engines fixed?rdquo;
Jason felt the south winds zipping around him, whinnying in challenge like headstrong mustangs, testing his will.
All week he had been waiting, hoping Auster would decide to help. For months he had worried about his obligations to Camp Jupiter, hoping his path would become clear. Now, he realized, he simply had to take what he wanted. He had to control the winds, not the other way around.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re going to help us,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Your venti can take the form of horses. Yoursquo;ll give us a team to pull the Argo II. Theyrsquo;ll lead us to wherever Leo is.rdquo;
ldquo;Wonderful!rdquo; Auster beamed, his beard flashing with electricity. ldquo;Nowhellip;can you make good on those bold words? Can you control what you ask for, or will you be torn apart?rdquo;
The god clapped his hands. Winds swirled around his throne and took the form of horses. These werenrsquo;t dark and cold like Jasonrsquo;s friend Tempest. The South Wind horses were made of fire, sand, and hot thunderstorm. Four of them raced past, their heat singeing the hair off Jasonrsquo;s arms. They galloped around the marble columns, spitting flames, neighing with a sound like sandblasters. The more they ran, the wilder they became. They started to eye Jason.
Auster stroked his rainy beard. ldquo;Do you know why the venti can appear as horses, my boy? Every so often, we wind gods travel the earth in equine form. On occasion, wersquo;ve been known to sire the fastest of all horses.rdquo;
ldquo;Thanks,rdquo; Jason muttered, though his teeth were chattering with fear. ldquo;Too much information.rdquo;
One of the venti charged at Jason. He ducked aside, his clothes smoking from the close call.
ldquo;Sometimes,rdquo; Auster continued cheerfully, ldquo;mortals recognize our divine blood. They will say, That horse runs like the wind. And for good reason. Like the fastest stallions, the venti are our children!rdquo;
The wind horses began to circle Jason.
ldquo;Like my friend Tempest,rdquo; he ventured.
ldquo;Oh, wellhellip;rdquo; Auster scowled. ldquo;I fear that one is a child of Boreas. How you tamed him, I will never know. These are my own offspring, a fine team of southern winds. Control them, Jason Grace, and they will pull your ship from the harbor.rdquo;
Control them, Jason thought. Yeah, right.
They ran back and forth, working up a frenzy. Like their master, the South Wind, they were conflictedmdash;half hot, dry sirocco, half stormy thunderhead.
I need speed, Jason thought. I need purpose.
He envisioned Notus, the Greek version of the South Windmdash;blistering hot, but very fast.
In that moment, he chose Greek. He threw in his lot with Camp Half-Bloodmdash;and the horses changed. The storm clouds inside burned away, leaving nothing but red dust and shimmering heat, like mirages on the Sahara.
ldquo;Well done,rdquo; said the god.
On the throne now sat Notusmdash;a bronze-skinned old man in a fiery Greek chiton, his head crowned with a wreath of withered, smoking barley.
ldquo;What are you waiting for?rdquo; the god prompted.
Jason turned toward the fiery wind steeds. Suddenly he wasnrsquo;t afraid of them.
He thrust out his hand. A swirl of dust shot toward the nearest horse. A lassomdash;a rope of wind, more tightly wound than any tornadomdash
ldquo;Very good, Jason Grace,rdquo; Notus said. ldquo;You are a son of Jupiter, yet you have chosen your own pathmdash;as all the greatest demigods have done before you. You cannot control your parentage, but you can choose your legacy. Now, go. Lash your team to the prow and direct them toward Malta.rdquo;
ldquo;Malta?rdquo; Jason tried to focus, but the heat from the horses was making him light-headed. He knew nothing about Malta, except for some vague story about a Maltese falcon. Were malts invented there?
ldquo;Once you arrive in the city of Valletta,rdquo; Notus said, ldquo;you will no longer need these horses.rdquo;
ldquo;You meanhellip;wersquo;ll find Leo there?rdquo;
The god shimmered, slowly fading into waves of heat. ldquo;Your destiny grows clearer, Jason Grace. When the choice comes againmdash;storm or firemdash;remember me. And do not despair.rdquo;
The doors of the throne room burst open. The horses, smelling freedom, bolted for the exit.
AT SIXTEEN, MOST KIDS WOULD STRESS about parallel parking tests, getting a driverrsquo;s license, and affording a car.
Jason stressed about controlling a team of fiery horses with wind ropes.
After making sure his friends were aboard and safely below deck, he lashed the venti to the prow of the Argo II (which Festus was not happy about), straddled the figurehead, and yelled, ldquo;Giddyup!rdquo;
The venti tore across the waves. They werenrsquo;t quite as fast as Hazelrsquo;s horse, Arion, but they had a lot more heat. They kicked up a rooster tail of steam that made it almost impossible for Jason to see where they were going. The ship shot out of the bay. In no time Africa was a hazy line on the horizon behind them.
Maintaining the wind ropes took all of Jasonrsquo;s concentration. The horses strained to break free. Only his willpower kept them in check.
Malta, he ordered. Straight to Malta.
By the time land finally appeared in the distancemdash;a hilly island carpeted with low stone buildingsmdash;Jason was soaked in sweat. His arms felt rubbery, like hersquo;d been holding a barbell straight out in front of him.
He hoped theyrsquo;d reached the right place, because he couldnrsquo;t keep the horses together any longer. He released the wind reins. The venti scattered into particles of sand and steam.
Exhausted, Jason climbed down from the prow. He leaned against Festusrsquo;s neck. The dragon turned and gave him a chin hug.
ldquo;Thanks, man,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Rough day, huh?rdquo;
Behind him, the deck boards creaked.
ldquo;Jason?rdquo; Piper called. ldquo;Oh, gods, your armshellip;rdquo;
He hadnrsquo;t noticed, but his skin was dotted with blisters.
Piper unwrapped a square of ambrosia. ldquo;Eat this.rdquo;
He chewed. His mouth was filled with the taste of fresh browniesmdash;his favorite treat from the bakeries in New Rome. The blisters faded on his arms. His strength returned, but the brownie ambrosia tasted more bitter than usual, as if it somehow knew that Jason was turning his back on Camp Jupiter. This was no longer the taste of home.
ldquo;Thanks, Pipes,rdquo; he murmured. ldquo;How long was Imdash;?rdquo;
ldquo;About six hours.rdquo;
Wow, Jason thought. No wonder he felt sore and hungry. ldquo;The others?rdquo;
ldquo;All fine. Tired of being cooped up. Should I tell them itrsquo;s safe to come above deck?rdquo;
Jason licked his dry lips. Despite the ambrosia, he felt shaky. He didnrsquo;t want the others to see him like this.
ldquo;Give me a second,rdquo; he said. ldquo;hellip;catch my breath.rdquo;
Piper leaned next to him. In her green tank top, her beige shorts, and her hiking boots, she looked like she was ready to climb a mountainmdash;and then fight an army at the top. Her dagger was strapped to her belt. Her cornucopia was slung over one shoulder. Shersquo;d taken to wearing the jagged bronze sword shersquo;d recovered from Zethes the Boread, which was only slightly less intimidating than an assault rifle.
During their time at Austerrsquo;s palace, Jason had watched Piper and Hazel spend hours sword fightingmdash;something Piper had never been interested in before. Since her encounter with Khione, Piper seemed more wired, tensed up inside like a primed catapult, as if she were determined never to be caught off guard again.
Jason understood the feeling, but he worried she was being too hard on herself. Nobody could be ready for anything all the time. He should know. Hersquo;d spent the last fight as a freeze-dried throw rug.
He must have been staring, because she gave him a knowing smirk. ldquo;Hey, Irsquo;m fine. Wersquo;re fine.rdquo;
She perched on her tiptoes and kissed him, which felt as good as the ambrosia. Her eyes were flecked with so many colors Jason couldrsquo;ve stared into them all day, studying the changing patterns, the way people watched the northern lights.
ldquo;Irsquo;m lucky to have you,rdquo; he said.
ldquo;Yeah, you are.rdquo; She pushed his chest gently. ldquo;Now, how do we get this ship to the docks?rdquo;
Jason frowned across the water. They were still half a mile from the island. He had no idea whether they could get the engines working, or the sails.hellip;
Fortunately, Festus had been listening. He faced front and blew a plume of fire. The shiprsquo;s engine clattered and hummed. It sounded like a massive bike with a busted chainmdash;but they lurched forward. Slowly, the Argo II headed toward the shore.
The dragonrsquo;s ruby eyes glinted as if he was pleased with himself.
ldquo;He seems different since you woke him,rdquo; Jason said. ldquo;Morehellip;alive.rdquo;
ldquo;The way he should be.rdquo; Piper smiled. ldquo;I guess once in a while we all need a wake-up call from somebody who loves us.rdquo;
Standing next to her, Jason felt so good, he could almost imagine their future together at Camp Half-Blood, once the war was overmdash;assuming they lived, assuming there was still a camp left to return to.
When the choice comes again, Notus had said, storm or firemdash;remember me. And do not despair.
The closer they got to Greece, the more dread settled in Jasonrsquo;s chest. He was starting to think Piper was right about the storm or fire line in the prophecymdash;one of them, Jason or Leo, would not come back from this voyage alive.
Which was why they had to find Leo. As much as Jason loved his life, he couldnrsquo;t let his friend die for his sake. He could never live with the guilt.
Of course he hoped he was wrong. He hoped they both came out of this quest okay. But if not, Jason had to be prepared. He would protect his friends and stop Gaeamdash;whatever it took.
Do not despair.
Yeah. Easy for an immortal wind god to say.
As the island got closer, Jason saw docks bristling with sails. From the rocky shoreline rose fortress-like seawallsmdash;fifty or sixty feet tall. Above that sprawled a medieval-looking city of church spires, domes, and tightly wedged buildings, all made of the same golden stone. From where Jason stood, it looked as if the city covered every inch of the island.
He scanned the boats in the harbor. A hundred yards ahead, tied to the end of the longest dock, was a makeshift raft with a simple mast and a square canvas sail. On the back, the rudder was wired to some sort of machine. Even from this distance, Jason could see the glint of Celestial bronze.
Jason grinned. Only one demigod would make a boat like that, and hersquo;d moored it as far out in the harbor as possible, where the Argo II couldnrsquo;t fail to spot it.
ldquo;Get the others,rdquo; Jason told Piper. ldquo;Leo is here.rdquo;
THEY FOUND LEO AT THE TOP of the city fortifications. He was sitting at an open-air café, overlooking the sea, drinking a cup of coffee and dressed inhellip;wow. Time warp. Leorsquo;s outfit was identical to the one hersquo;d worn the day they first arrived at Camp Half-Bloodmdash;jeans, a white shirt, and an old army jacket. Except that jacket had burned up months ago.
Piper nearly knocked him out of his chair with a hug. ldquo;Leo! Gods, where have you been?rdquo;
ldquo;Valdez!rdquo; Coach Hedge grinned. Then he seemed to remember he had a reputation to protect and he forced a scowl. ldquo;You ever disappear like that again, you little punk, Irsquo;ll knock you into next month!rdquo;
Frank patted Leo on the back so hard it made him wince. Even Nico shook his hand.
Hazel kissed Leo on the cheek. ldquo;We thought you were dead!rdquo;
Leo mustered a faint smile. ldquo;Hey, guys. Nah, nah, Irsquo;m good.rdquo;
Jason could tell he wasnrsquo;t good. Leo wouldnrsquo;t meet their eyes. His hands were perfectly still on the table. Leorsquo;s hands were never still. All the nervous energy had drained right out of him, replaced by a kind of wistful sadness.
Jason wondered why his expression seemed familiar. Then he realized Nico di Angelo had looked the same way after facing Cupid in the ruins of Salona.
Leo was heartsick.
As the others grabbed chairs from the nearby tables, Jason leaned in and squeezed his friendrsquo;s shoulder.
ldquo;Hey, man,rdquo; he said, ldquo;what happened?rdquo;
Leorsquo;s eyes swept around the group. The message was clear: Not here. Not in front of everyone.
ldquo;I got marooned,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Long story. How about you guys? What happened with Khione?rdquo;
Coach Hedge snorted. ldquo;What happened? Piper happened! Irsquo;m telling you, this girl has skills!rdquo;
ldquo;Coachhellip;rdquo; Piper protested.
Hedge began retelling the story, but in his version Piper was a kung fu assassin and there were a lot more Boreads.
As the coach talked, Jason studied Leo with concern. This café had a perfect view of the harbor. Leo must have seen the Argo II sail in. Yet he sat here drinking coffeemdash;which he didnrsquo;t even likemdash;waiting for them to find him. That wasnrsquo;t like Leo at all. The ship was the most important thing in his life. When he saw it coming to rescue him, Leo should have run down to the docks, whooping at the top of his lungs.
Coach Hedge was just describing how Piper had defeated Khione with a roundhouse kick when Piper interrupted.
ldquo;Coach!rdquo; she said. ldquo;It didnrsquo;t happen like that at all. I couldnrsquo;t have done anything without Festus.rdquo;
Leo raised his eyebrows. ldquo;But Festus was deactivated.rdquo;
ldquo;Um, about that,rdquo; Piper said. ldquo;I sort of woke him up.rdquo;
Piper explained her version of eventsmdash;how shersquo;d rebooted the metal dragon with charmspeak.
Leo tapped his fingers on the table, like some of his old energy was coming back.
ldquo;Shouldnrsquo;t be possible,rdquo; he murmured. ldquo;Unless the upgrades let him respond to voice commands. But if hersquo;s permanently activated, that means the navigation system and the crystalhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Crystal?rdquo; Jason asked.
Leo flinched. ldquo;Um, nothing. Anyway, what happened after the wind bomb went off?rdquo;
Hazel took up the story. A waitress came over and offered them menus. In no time they were chowing down on sandwiches and sodas, enjoying the sunny day almost like a group of regular teenagers.
Frank grabbed a tourist brochure stuck under the napkin dispenser. He began to read it. Piper pat
ldquo;So then Jason harnessed the venti,rdquo; Hazel finished. ldquo;And here we are.rdquo;
Leo whistled. ldquo;Hot-air horses? Dang, Jason. So basically, you held a bunch of gas together all the way to Malta, and then you let it loose.rdquo;
Jason frowned. ldquo;You know, it doesnrsquo;t sound so heroic when you put it that way.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, well. Irsquo;m an expert on hot air. Irsquo;m still wondering, why Malta? I just kind of ended up here on the raft, but was that a random thing, ormdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Maybe because of this.rdquo; Frank tapped his brochure. ldquo;Says here Malta was where Calypso lived.rdquo;
A pint of blood drained from Leorsquo;s face. ldquo;W-what now?rdquo;
Frank shrugged. ldquo;According to this, her original home was an island called Gozo just north of here. Calypsorsquo;s a Greek myth thingie, right?rdquo;
ldquo;Ah, a Greek myth thingie!rdquo; Coach Hedge rubbed his hands together. ldquo;Maybe we get to fight her! Do we get to fight her? rsquo;Cause Irsquo;m ready.rdquo;
ldquo;No,rdquo; Leo murmured. ldquo;No, we donrsquo;t have to fight her, Coach.rdquo;
Piper frowned. ldquo;Leo, whatrsquo;s wrong? You lookmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Nothingrsquo;s wrong!rdquo; Leo shot to his feet. ldquo;Hey, we should get going. Wersquo;ve got work to do!rdquo;
ldquo;Buthellip;where did you go?rdquo; Hazel asked. ldquo;Where did you get those clothes? Howmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Jeez, ladies!rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;I appreciate the concern, but I donrsquo;t need two extra moms!rdquo;
ldquo;Ships to fix!rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Festus to check! Earth goddesses to punch in the face! What are we waiting for? Leorsquo;s back!rdquo;
He spread his arms and grinned.
He was making a brave attempt, but Jason could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. Something had happened to himhellip;something to do with Calypso.
Jason tried to remember the story about her. She was a sorceress of some sort, maybe like Medea or Circe. But if Leo had escaped from an evil sorceressrsquo;s lair, why did he seem so sad? Jason would have to talk to him later, make sure his buddy was okay. For now Leo clearly didnrsquo;t want to be interrogated.
Jason got up and clapped him on the shoulder. ldquo;Leorsquo;s right. We should get going.rdquo;
Everybody took the cue. They started wrapping up their food and finishing their drinks.
Suddenly, Hazel gasped. ldquo;Guyshellip;rdquo;
She pointed to the northeast horizon. At first, Jason saw nothing but the sea. Then a streak of darkness shot into the air like black lightningmdash;as if pure night had torn through the daytime.
ldquo;I donrsquo;t see anything,rdquo; Coach Hedge grumbled.
ldquo;Me neither,rdquo; Piper said.
Jason scanned his friendsrsquo; faces. Most of them just looked confused. Nico was the only other one who seemed to have noticed the black lightning.
ldquo;That canrsquo;t behellip;rdquo; Nico muttered. ldquo;Greece is still hundreds of miles away.rdquo;
The darkness flashed again, momentarily leaching the color from the horizon.
ldquo;You think itrsquo;s Epirus?rdquo; Jasonrsquo;s whole skeleton tingled, the way he felt when he got hit by a thousand volts. He didnrsquo;t know why he could see the dark flashes. He wasnrsquo;t a child of the Underworld. But it gave him a very bad feeling.
Nico nodded. ldquo;The House of Hades is open for business.rdquo;
A few seconds later, a rumbling sound washed over them like distant artillery.
ldquo;Itrsquo;s begun,rdquo; Hazel said.
ldquo;What has?rdquo; Leo asked.
When the next flash happened, Hazelrsquo;s gold eyes darkened like foil in fire. ldquo;Gaearsquo;s final push,rdquo; she said. ldquo;The Doors of Death are working overtime. Her forces are entering the mortal world en masse.rdquo;
ldquo;Wersquo;ll never make it,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;By the time we arrive, therersquo;ll be too many monsters to fight.rdquo;
Jason set his jaw. ldquo;Wersquo;ll defeat them. And wersquo;ll make it there fast. Wersquo;ve got Leo back. Hersquo;ll give us the speed we need.rdquo;
He turned to his friend. ldquo;Or is that just hot air?rdquo;
Leo managed a crooked grin. His eyes seemed to say: Thanks.
ldquo;Time to fly, boys and girls,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Uncle Leorsquo;s still got a few tricks up his sleeves!rdquo;
PERCY WASNrsquo;T DEAD YET, but he was already tired of being a corpse.
As they trudged toward the heart of Tartarus, he kept glancing down at his body, wondering how it could belong to him. His arms looked like bleached leather pulled over sticks. His skeletal legs seemed to dissolve into smoke with every step. Hersquo;d learned to move normally within the Death Mist, more or less, but the magical shroud still made him feel like he was wrapped in a coat of helium.
He worried that the Death Mist might cling to him forever, even if they somehow managed to survive Tartarus. He didnrsquo;t want to spend the rest of his life looking like an extra from The Walking Dead.
Percy tried to focus on something else, but there was no safe direction to look.
Under his feet, the ground glistened a nauseating purple, pulsing with webs of veins. In the dim red light of the blood clouds, Death Mist Annabeth looked like a freshly risen zombie.
Ahead of them was the most depressing view of all.
Spread to the horizon was an army of monstersmdash;flocks of winged arai, tribes of lumbering Cyclopes, clusters of floating evil spirits. Thousands of baddies, maybe tens of thousands, all milling restlessly, pressing against one another, growling and fighting for spacemdash;like the locker area of an overcrowded school between classes, if all the students were rsquo;roid-raging mutants who smelled really bad.
Bob led them toward the edge of the army. He made no effort to hide, not that it would have done any good. Being ten feet tall and glowing silver, Bob didnrsquo;t do stealth very well.
About thirty yards from the nearest monsters, Bob turned to face Percy.
ldquo;Stay quiet and stay behind me,rdquo; he advised. ldquo;They will not notice you.rdquo;
ldquo;We hope,rdquo; Percy muttered.
On the Titanrsquo;s shoulder, Small Bob woke up from a nap. He purred seismically and arched his back, turning skeletal then back to calico. At least he didnrsquo;t seem nervous.
Annabeth examined her own zombie hands. ldquo;Bob, if wersquo;re invisiblehellip;how can you see us? I mean, yoursquo;re technically, you knowhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;But we are friends.rdquo;
ldquo;Nyx and her children could see us,rdquo; Annabeth said.
Bob shrugged. ldquo;That was in Nyxrsquo;s realm. That is different.rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;right.rdquo; Annabeth didnrsquo;t sound reassured, but they were here now. They didnrsquo;t have any choice but to try.
Percy stared at the swarm of vicious monsters. ldquo;Well, at least we wonrsquo;t have to worry about bumping into any other friends in this crowd.rdquo;
Bob grinned. ldquo;Yes, that is good news! Now, letrsquo;s go. Death is close.rdquo;
ldquo;The Doors of Death are close,rdquo; Annabeth corrected. ldquo;Letrsquo;s watch the phrasing.rdquo;
They plunged into the crowd. Percy trembled so badly, he was afraid the Death Mist would shake right off him. Hersquo;d seen large groups of monsters before. Hersquo;d fought an army of them during the Battle of Manhattan. But this was different.
Whenever hersquo;d fought monsters in the mortal world, Percy at least knew he was defending his home. That gave him courage, no matter how bad the odds were. Here, Percy was the invader. He didnrsquo;t belong in this multitude of monsters any more than the Minotaur belonged in Penn Station at rush hour.
A few feet away, a group of empousai tore into the carcass of a gryphon while other gryphons flew around them, squawking in outrage. A six-armed Earthborn and a Laistrygonian giant pummeled each other with rocks, though Percy wasnrsquo;t sure if they were fighting or just messing around. A dark wisp of smokemdash;Percy guessed it must be an eidolonmdash;seeped into a Cyclops, made the monster hit himself in the face, then drifted off to possess another victim.
Annabeth whispered, ldquo;Percy, look.rdquo;
A stonersquo;s throw away, a guy in a cowboy outfit was cracking a whip at some fire-breathing horses. The wrangler wore a Stetson hat on his greasy hair, an extra-large set of jeans, and a pair of black leather boots. From the side, he might have passed for humanmdash;until he turned, and Percy saw that his upper body was split into three different chests, each one dressed in a different-color Western shirt.
It was definitely Geryon, who had tried to kill Percy two years ago in Texas. Apparently the evil rancher was anxious to break in a new herd. The idea of that guy riding out of the Doors of Death made Percyrsquo;s sides hurt all over again. His ribs throbbed where the arai had unleashed Geryonrsquo;s dying curse back in the forest. He wanted to march up to the three-bodied rancher, smack him in the face, and yell, Thanks a lot, Tex!
Sadly, he couldnrsquo;t.
How many other old enemies were in this crowd? Percy began to realize that every battle hersquo;d ever won had only been a temporary victory. No matter how strong or lucky he was, no matter how many monsters he destroyed, Percy would eventually fail. He was only one mortal. He would get too old, too weak, or too slow. He would die. And these monstershellip;they lasted forever. They just kept coming back. Maybe it would take them months or years to re-form, maybe even centuries. But they would be reborn.
Seeing them assembled in Tartarus, Percy felt as hopeless as the spirits in the River Cocytus. So what if he was a hero? So what if he did something brave? Evil was always here, regenerating, bubbling under the surface. Percy was no more than a minor annoyance to these immortal beings. They just had to outwait him. Someday, Percyrsquo;s sons or daughters might have to face them all over again.
Sons and daughters.
The thought jarred him. As quickly as hopelessness had overtaken him, it disappeared. He glanced at Annabeth. She still looked like a misty corpse, but he imagined her true appearancemdash;her gray eyes full of determination, her blond hair pulled back in a bandana, her face weary and streaked with grime, but as beautiful as ever.
Okay, maybe monsters kept coming back forever. But so did demigods. Generation after generation, Camp Half-Blood had endured. And Camp Jupiter. Even separately, the two camps had survived. Now, if the Greeks and Romans could come together, they would be even stronger.
There was still hope. He and Annabeth had come this far. The Doors of Death were almost within reach.
Sons and daughters. A ridiculous thought. An awesome thought. Right there in the middle of Tartarus, Percy grinned.
With his zombie Death Mist disguise, Percy probably looked like he was grimacing in pain.
ldquo;Nothing,rdquo; he said. ldquo;I was justmdash;rdquo;
Somewhere in front of them, a deep voice bellowed: ldquo;IAPETUS!rdquo;
A TITAN STRODE TOWARD THEM, casually kicking lesser monsters out of his way. He was roughly the same height as Bob, with elaborate Stygian iron armor, a single diamond blazin
Despite his battle scars, the Titanrsquo;s face was handsome and strangely familiar. Percy was pretty sure hersquo;d never seen the guy before, but his eyes and his smile reminded Percy of someone.hellip;
The Titan stopped in front of Bob. He clapped him on the shoulder. ldquo;Iapetus! Donrsquo;t tell me you donrsquo;t recognize your own brother!rdquo;
ldquo;No!rdquo; Bob agreed nervously. ldquo;I wonrsquo;t tell you that.rdquo;
The other Titan threw back his head and laughed. ldquo;I heard you were thrown into the Lethe. Mustrsquo;ve been terrible! We all knew you would heal eventually. Itrsquo;s Koios! Koios!rdquo;
ldquo;Of course,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Koios, Titan ofhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;The North!rdquo; Koios said.
ldquo;I know!rdquo; Bob shouted.
They laughed together and took turns hitting each other in the arm.
Apparently miffed by all the jostling, Small Bob crawled onto Bobrsquo;s head and began making a nest in the Titanrsquo;s silver hair.
ldquo;Poor old Iapetus,rdquo; said Koios. ldquo;They must have laid you low indeed. Look at you! A broom? A servantrsquo;s uniform? A cat in your hair? Truly, Hades must pay for these insults. Who was that demigod who took your memory? Bah! We must rip him to pieces, you and I, eh?rdquo;
ldquo;Ha-ha.rdquo; Bob swallowed. ldquo;Yes, indeed. Rip him to pieces.rdquo;
Percyrsquo;s fingers closed around his pen. He didnrsquo;t think much of Bobrsquo;s brother, even without the rip-him-to-pieces threat. Compared to Bobrsquo;s simple way of speaking, Koios sounded like he was reciting Shakespeare. That alone was enough to make Percy irritated.
He was ready to uncap Riptide if he had to, but so far Koios didnrsquo;t seem to notice him. And Bob hadnrsquo;t betrayed them yet, though hersquo;d had plenty of opportunities.
ldquo;Ah, itrsquo;s good to see you.hellip;rdquo; Koios drummed his fingers on his bearrsquo;s-head helmet. ldquo;You remember what fun we had in the old days?rdquo;
ldquo;Of course!rdquo; Bob chirped. ldquo;When we, uhhellip;rdquo;
ldquo;Holding down our father, Ouranos,rdquo; Koios said.
ldquo;Yes! We loved wrestling with Dad.hellip;rdquo;
ldquo;We restrained him.rdquo;
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s what I meant!rdquo;
ldquo;While Kronos cut him to pieces with his scythe.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, ha-ha.rdquo; Bob looked mildly ill. ldquo;What fun.rdquo;
ldquo;You grabbed Fatherrsquo;s right foot, as I recall,rdquo; Koios said. ldquo;And Ouranos kicked you in the face as he struggled. How we used to tease you about that!rdquo;
ldquo;Silly me,rdquo; Bob agreed.
ldquo;Sadly, our brother Kronos was dissolved by those impudent demigods.rdquo; Koios heaved a sigh. ldquo;Bits and pieces of his essence remain, but nothing you could put together again. I suppose some injuries even Tartarus cannot heal.rdquo;
ldquo;Alas!rdquo;
ldquo;But the rest of us have another chance to shine, eh?rdquo; He leaned forward conspiratorially. ldquo;These giants may think they will rule. Let them be our shock troops and destroy the Olympiansmdash;all well and good. But once the Earth Mother is awake, she will remember that we are her eldest children. Mark my words. The Titans will yet rule the cosmos.rdquo;
ldquo;Hmm,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;The giants may not like that.rdquo;
ldquo;Spit on what they like,rdquo; Koios said. ldquo;Theyrsquo;ve already passed through the Doors of Death, anyway, back to the mortal world. Polybotes was the last one, not half an hour ago, still grumbling about missing his prey. Apparently some demigods he was after got swallowed by Nyx. Never see them again, I wager!rdquo;
Annabeth gripped Percyrsquo;s wrist. Through the Death Mist, he couldnrsquo;t read her expression very well, but he saw the alarm in her eyes.
If the giants had already passed through the Doors, then at least they wouldnrsquo;t be hunting through Tartarus for Percy and Annabeth. Unfortunately, that also meant their friends in the mortal world were in even greater danger. All of the earlier fights with the giants had been in vain. Their enemies would be reborn as strong as ever.
ldquo;Well!rdquo; Koios drew his massive sword. The blade radiated a cold deeper than the Hubbard Glacier. ldquo;I must be off. Leto should have regenerated by now. I will convince her to fight.rdquo;
ldquo;Of course,rdquo; Bob murmured. ldquo;Leto.rdquo;
Koios laughed. ldquo;Yoursquo;ve forgotten my daughter, as well? I suppose itrsquo;s been too long since yoursquo;ve seen her. The peaceful ones like her always take the longest to re-form. This time, though, Irsquo;m sure Leto will fight for vengeance. The way Zeus treated her, after she bore him those fine twins? Outrageous!rdquo;
Percy almost grunted out loud.
The twins.
He remembered the name Leto: the mother of Apollo and Artemis. This guy Koios looked vaguely familiar because he had Artemisrsquo;s cold eyes and Apollorsquo;s smile. The Titan was their grandfather, Letorsquo;s father. The idea gave Percy a migraine.
ldquo;Well! Irsquo;ll see you in the mortal world!rdquo; Koios chest-bumped Bob, almost knocking the cat off his head. ldquo;Oh, and our two other brothers are guarding this side of the Doors, so yoursquo;ll see them soon enough!rdquo;
ldquo;I will?rdquo;
ldquo;Count on it!rdquo; Koios lumbered off, almost knocking over Percy and Annabeth as they scrambled out of his way.
Before the crowd of monsters could fill the empty space, Percy motioned for Bob to lean in.
ldquo;You okay, big guy?rdquo; Percy whispered.
Bob frowned. ldquo;I do not know. In all thisrdquo;mdash;he gestured around themmdash;ldquo;what is the meaning of okay?rdquo;
Fair point, Percy thought.
Annabeth peered toward the Doors of Death, though the crowd of monsters blocked them from view. ldquo;Did I hear correctly? Two more Titans guarding our exit? Thatrsquo;s not good.rdquo;
Percy looked at Bob. The Titanrsquo;s distant expression worried him.
ldquo;Do you remember Koios?rdquo; he asked gently. ldquo;All that stuff he was talking about?rdquo;
Bob gripped his broom. ldquo;When he told it, I remembered. He handed me my past likehellip;like a spear. But I do not know if I should take it. Is it still mine, if I do not want it?rdquo;
ldquo;No,rdquo; Annabeth said firmly. ldquo;Bob, yoursquo;re different now. Yoursquo;re better.rdquo;
The kitten jumped off Bobrsquo;s head. He circled the Titanrsquo;s feet, bumping his head against the Titanrsquo;s pants cuffs. Bob didnrsquo;t seem to notice.
Percy wished he could be as certain as Annabeth. He wished he could tell Bob with absolute confidence that he should forget about his past.
But Percy understood Bobrsquo;s confusion. He remembered the day hersquo;d opened his eyes at the Wolf House in California, his memory wiped clean by Hera. If somebody had been waiting for Percy when he first woke up, if theyrsquo;d convinced Percy that his name was Bob, and he was a friend of the Titans and the giantshellip;would Percy have believed it? Would he have felt betrayed once he found out his true identity?
This is different, he told himself. Wersquo;re the good guys.
But were they? Percy had left Bob in Hadesrsquo;s palace, at the mercy of a new master who hated him. Percy didnrsquo;t feel like he had much right to tell Bob what to do nowmdash;even if their lives depended on it.
ldquo;I think you can choose, Bob,rdquo; Percy ventured. ldquo;Take the parts of Iapetusrsquo;s past that you want to keep. Leave the rest. Your future is what matters.rdquo;
ldquo;Futurehellip;rdquo; Bob mused. ldquo;That is a mortal concept. I am not meant to change, Percy Friend.rdquo; He gazed around him at the horde of monsters. ldquo;We are the samehellip;forever.rdquo;
ldquo;If you were the same,rdquo; Percy said, ldquo;Annabeth and I would be dead already. Maybe we werenrsquo;t meant to be friends, but we are. Yoursquo;ve been the best friend we could ask for.rdquo;
Bobrsquo;s silver eyes looked darker than usual. He held out his hand, and Small Bob the kitten jumped into it. The Titan rose to his full height. ldquo;Let us go, then, friends. Not much farther.rdquo;
Stomping on Tartarusrsquo;s heart wasnrsquo;t nearly as much fun as it sounded.
The purplish ground was slippery and constantly pulsing. It looked flat from a distance, but up close it was made of folds and ridges that got harder to navigate the farther they walked. Gnarled lumps of red arteries and blue veins gave Percy some footholds when he had to climb, but the going was slow.
And of course, the monsters were everywhere. Packs of hellhounds prowled the plains, baying and snarling and attacking any monster that dropped its guard. Arai wheeled overhead on leathery wings, making ghastly dark silhouettes in the poison clouds.
Percy stumbled. His hand touched a red artery, and a tingling sensation went up his arm. ldquo;Therersquo;s water in here,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Actual water.rdquo;
Bob grunted. ldquo;One of the five rivers. His blood.rdquo;
ldquo;His blood?rdquo; Annabeth stepped away from the nearest clump of veins. ldquo;I knew the Underworld rivers all emptied into Tartarus, butmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Yes,rdquo; Bob agreed. ldquo;They all flow through his heart.rdquo;
Percy traced his hand across a web of capillaries. Was the water of the Styx flowing beneath his fingers, or maybe the Lethe? If one of those veins popped when he stepped on ithellip; Percy shuddered. He realized he was taking a stroll across the most dangerous circulatory system in the universe.
ldquo;We should hurry,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;If we canrsquo;thellip;rdquo;
Her voice trailed off.
Ahead of them, jagged streaks of darkness tore through the airmdash;like lightning, except pure black.
ldquo;The Doors,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Must be a large group going through.rdquo;
Percyrsquo;s mouth tasted like gorgonrsquo;s blood. Even if his friends from the Argo II managed to find the other side of the Doors of Death, how could they possibly fight the waves of monsters that were coming through, especially if all the giants were already waiting for them?
ldquo;Do all the monsters go through the House of Hades?rdquo; he asked. ldquo;How big is that place?rdquo;
Bob shrugged. ldquo;Perhaps they are sent elsewhere when they step through. The House of Hades is in the earth, yes? That is Gaearsquo;s realm. She could send her minions wherever she wishes.rdquo;
Percyrsquo;s spirits sank. Monsters coming through the Doors of Death to threaten his friends at Epirusmdash;that was bad enough. Now he imagined the ground on the mortal side as one big subway system, depositing giants and other nasties anywhere Gaea wanted them to gomdash;Camp Half-Blood, Camp Jupiter, or in the path of the Argo II before it could even reach Epirus.
ldquo;If Gaea has that much power,rdquo; Annabeth asked, ldquo;couldnrsquo;t she control where we end up?rdquo;
Percy really hated that question. Sometimes he wished Annabeth werenrsquo;t so smart.
Bob scratched his chin. ldquo;You are not monsters. It may be different for you.rdquo;
Great, Percy thought.
He didnrsquo;t relish the idea of Gaea waiting for them on the other side, ready to teleport them into the middle of a mountain; but at least the Doors were a chance to get out of Tartarus. It wasnrsquo;t like they had a better option.
The Doors were still too far away to make out much detail, but the Titans flanking either side were familiar enough. The one on the left wore shining golden armor that shimmered with heat.
ldquo;Hyperion,rdquo; Percy muttered. ldquo;That guy just wonrsquo;t stay dead.rdquo;
The one on the right wore dark-blue armor, with ramrsquo;s horns curling from the sides of his helmet. Percy had only seen him in dreams before, but it was definitely Krios, the Titan that Jason had killed in the battle for Mount Tam.
ldquo;Bobrsquo;s other brothers,rdquo; Annabeth said. The Death Mist shimmered around her, temporarily turning her face into a grinning skull. ldquo;Bob, if you have to fight them, can you?rdquo;
Bob hefted his broom, like he was ready for a messy cleaning job. ldquo;We must hurry,rdquo; he said, which Percy noticed wasnrsquo;t really an answer. ldquo;Follow me.rdquo;
SO FAR, THEIR DEATH MIST camouflage plan seemed to be working. So, naturally, Percy expected a massive last-minute fail.
Fifty feet from the Doors of Death, he and Annabeth froze.
ldquo;Oh, gods,rdquo; Annabeth murmured. ldquo;Theyrsquo;re the same.rdquo;
Percy knew what she meant. Framed in Stygian iron, the magical portal was a set of elevator doorsmdash;two panels of silver and black etched with art deco designs. Except for the fact that the colors were inverted, they looked exactly like the elevators in the Empire State Building, the entrance to Olympus.
Seeing them, Percy felt so homesick, he couldnrsquo;t breathe. He didnrsquo;t just miss Mount Olympus. He missed everything hersquo;d left behind: New York City, Camp Half-Blood, his mom and stepdad. His eyes stung. He didnrsquo;t trust himself to talk.
The Doors of Death seemed like a personal insult, designed to remind him of everything he couldnrsquo;t have.
As he got over his initial shock, he noticed other details: the frost spreading from the base of the Doors, the purplish glow in the air around them, and the chains that held them fast.
Cords of black iron ran down either side of the frame, like rigging lines on a suspension bridge. They were tethered to hooks embedded in the fleshy ground. The two Titans, Krios and Hyperion, stood guard at the anchor points.
As Percy watched, the entire frame shuddered. Black lightning flashed into the sky. The chains shook, and the Titans planted their feet on the hooks to keep them secure. The Doors slid open, revealing the gilded interior of an elevator car.
Percy tensed, ready to charge forward, but Bob planted a hand on his shoulder. ldquo;Wait,rdquo; he cautioned.
Hyperion yelled to the surrounding crowd: ldquo;Group A-22! Hurry up, you sluggards!rdquo;
A dozen Cyclopes rushed forward, waving little red tickets and shouting excitedly. They shouldnrsquo;t have been able to fit inside those human-sized doors, but as the Cyclopes got close, their bodies distorted and shrank, the Doors of Death sucking them inside.
The Titan Krios jabbed his thumb against the up button on the elevatorrsquo;s right side. The Doors slid closed.
The frame shuddered again. Dark lightning faded.
ldquo;You must understand how it works,rdquo; Bob muttered. He addressed the kitten in his palm, maybe so the other monsters wouldnrsquo;t wonder who he was talking to. ldquo;Each time the Doors open, they try to teleport to a new location. Thanatos made them this way, so only he could find them. But now they are chained. The Doors cannot relocate.rdquo;
ldquo;Then we cut the chains,rdquo; Annabeth whispered.
Percy looked at the blazing form of Hyperion. The last time hersquo;d fought the Titan, it had taken every ounce of his strength. Even then Percy had almost died. Now there were two Titans, with several thousand monsters for backup.
ldquo;Our camouflage,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Will it disappear if we do something aggressive, like cutting the chains?rdquo;
ldquo;I do not know,rdquo; Bob told his kitten.
ldquo;Mrow,rdquo; said Small Bob.
ldquo;Bob, yoursquo;ll have to distract them,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Percy and I will sneak around the two Titans and cut the chains from behind.rdquo;
ldquo;Yes, fine,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;But that is only one problem. Once you are inside the Doors, someone must stay outside to push the button and defend it.rdquo;
Percy tried to swallow. ldquo;Uhhellip;defend the button?rdquo;
Bob nodded, scratching his kitten under the chin. ldquo;Someone must keep pressing the UP button for twelve minutes, or the journey will not finish.rdquo;
Percy glanced at the Doors. Sure enough, Krios still had his thumb jammed on the UP button. Twelve minuteshellip; Somehow, they would have to get the Titans away from those doors. Then Bob, Percy, or Annabeth would have to keep that button pushed for twelve long minutes, in the middle of an army of monsters in the heart of Tartarus, while the other two rode to the mortal world. It was impossible.
ldquo;Why twelve minutes?rdquo; Percy asked.
ldquo;I do not know,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;Why twelve Olympians, or twelve Titans?rdquo;
ldquo;Fair enough,rdquo; Percy said, though he had a bitter taste in his mouth.
ldquo;What do you mean the journey wonrsquo;t finish?rdquo; Annabeth asked. ldquo;What happens to the passengers?rdquo;
Bob didnrsquo;t answer. Judging from his pained expression, Percy decided he didnrsquo;t want to be in that elevator if the car stalled between Tartarus and the mortal world.
ldquo;If we do push the button for twelve minutes,rdquo; Percy said, ldquo;and the chains are cutmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;The Doors should reset,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;That is what they are supposed to do. They will disappear from Tartarus. They will appear somewhere else, where Gaea cannot use them.rdquo;
ldquo;Thanatos can reclaim them,rdquo; Annabeth said. ldquo;Death goes back to normal, and the monsters lose their shortcut to the mortal world.rdquo;
ldquo;I will push the button,rdquo; Bob volunteered.
A mix of feelings churned in Percyrsquo;s gutmdash;grief, sadness, gratitude, and guilt thickening into emotional cement. ldquo;Bob, we canrsquo;t ask you to do that. You want to go through the Doors too. You want to see the sky again, and the stars, andmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I would like that,rdquo; Bob agreed. ldquo;But someone must push the button. And once the chains are cuthellip;my brethren will fight to stop your passage. They will not want the Doors to disappear.rdquo;
Percy gazed at the endless horde of monsters. Even if he let Bob make this sacrifice, how could one Titan defend himself against so many for twelve minutes, all while keeping his finger on a button?
The cement settled in Percyrsquo;s stomach. He had always suspected how this would end. He would have to stay behind. While Bob fended off the army, Percy would hold the elevator button and make sure Annabeth got to safety.
Somehow, he had to convince her to go without him. As long as she was safe and the Doors disappeared, he could die knowing hersquo;d done something right.
ldquo;Percyhellip;?rdquo; Annabeth stared at him, a suspicious edge to her voice.
She was too smart. If he met her eyes, she would see exactly what he was thinking.
ldquo;First things first,rdquo; he said. ldquo;Letrsquo;s cut those chains.rdquo;
ldquo;IAPETUS!rdquo; HYPERION BELLOWED. ldquo;Well, well. I thought you were hiding under a cleaning bucket somewhere.rdquo;
Bob lumbered forward, scowling. ldquo;I was not hiding.rdquo;
Percy crept toward the right side of the Doors. Annabeth sneaked toward the left. The Titans gave no sign of noticing them, but Percy took no chances. He kept Riptide in pen form. He crouched low, stepping as quietly as possible. The lesser monsters kept a respectful distance from the Titans, so there was enough empty space to maneuver around the Doors; but Percy was keenly aware of the snarling mob at his back.
Annabeth had decided to take the side Hyperion was guarding, on the theory that Hyperion was more likely to sense Percy. After all, Percy was the last one to have killed him in the mortal world. That was fine with Percy. After being in Tartarus for so long, he could barely look at Hyperionrsquo;s burning golden armor without getting spots in his eyes.
On Percyrsquo;s side of the Doors, Krios stood dark and silent, his ramrsquo;s-headed helmet covering his face. He kept one foot planted on the chainrsquo;s anchor and his thumb on the UP button.
Bob faced his brethren. He planted his spear and tried to look as fierce as possible with a kitten on his shoulder. ldquo;Hyperion and Krios. I remember you both.rdquo;
ldquo;Do you, Iapetus?rdquo; The golden Titan laughed, glancing at Krios to share the joke. ldquo;Well, thatrsquo;s good to know! I heard Percy Jackson turned you into a brainwashed scullery maid. What did he rename youhellip;Betty?rdquo;
ldquo;Bob,rdquo; snarled Bob.
ldquo;Well, itrsquo;s about time you showed up, Bob. Krios and I have been stuck here for weeksmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Hours,rdquo; Krios corrected, his voice a deep rumble inside his helmet.
ldquo;Whatever!rdquo; Hyperion said. ldquo;Itrsquo;s boring work, guarding these doors, shuffling monsters through at Gaearsquo;s orders. Krios, whatrsquo;s our next group, anyway?rdquo;
ldquo;Double Red,rdquo; said Krios.
Hyperion sighed. The flames glowed hotter across his shoulders. ldquo;Double Red. Why do we go from A-22 to Double Red? What kind of system is that?rdquo; He glared at Bob. ldquo;This is no job for memdash;the Lord of Light! Titan of the East! Master of Dawn! Why am I forced to wait in the darkness while the giants go into battle and get all the glory? Now, Krios I can understandmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I get all the worst assignments,rdquo; Krios muttered, his thumb still on the button.
ldquo;But me?rdquo; Hyperion said. ldquo;Ridiculous! This should be your job, Iapetus. Here, take my place for a while.rdquo;
Bob stared at the Doors, but his gaze was distantmdash;lost in the past. ldquo;The four of us held down our father, Ouranos,rdquo; he remembered. ldquo;Koios, and me, and the two of you. Kronos promised us mastery of the four corners of the earth for helping with the murder.rdquo;
ldquo;Indeed,rdquo; Hyperion said. ldquo;And I was happy to do it! I wouldrsquo;ve wielded the scythe myself if Irsquo;d had the chance! But you, Bobhellip;you were always conflicted about that killing, werenrsquo;t you? The soft Titan of the West, soft as the sunset! Why our parents named you the Piercer, I will never know. More like the Whimper.rdquo;
Percy reached the anchor hook. He uncapped his pen and Riptide grew to full length. Krios didnrsquo;t react. His attention was firmly fixed on Bob, who had just leveled the point of his spear at Hyperionrsquo;s chest.
ldquo;I can still pierce,rdquo; Bob said, his voice low and even. ldquo;You brag too much, Hyperion. You are bright and fiery, but Percy Jackson defeated you anyway. I hear you became a nice tree in Central Park.rdquo;
ldquo;At least a janitorrsquo;s work is honest,rdquo; Bob said. ldquo;I clean up after others. I leave the palace better than I found it. But youhellip;you do not care what messes you make. You followed Kronos blindly. Now you take
ldquo;Both of you hold your tongues!rdquo; Hyperionrsquo;s voice was tinged with fear. ldquo;You never know when he is listening.rdquo;
The elevator dinged. All three Titans jumped.
Had it been twelve minutes? Percy had lost track of time. Krios took his finger off the button and called out, ldquo;Double Red! Where is Double Red?rdquo;
Hordes of monsters stirred and jostled one another, but none of them came forward.
Krios heaved a sigh. ldquo;I told them to hang on to their tickets. Double Red! Yoursquo;ll lose your place in the queue!rdquo;
Annabeth was in position, right behind Hyperion. She raised her drakon-bone sword over the base of the chains. In the fiery light of the Titanrsquo;s armor, her Death Mist disguise made her look like a burning ghoul.
She held up three fingers, ready to count down. They had to cut the chains before the next group tried to take the elevator, but they also had to make sure the Titans were as distracted as possible.
Hyperion muttered a curse. ldquo;Just wonderful. This will completely mess up our schedule.rdquo; He sneered at Bob. ldquo;Make your choice, brother. Fight us or help us. I donrsquo;t have time for your lectures.rdquo;
Bob glanced at Annabeth and Percy. Percy thought he might start a fight, but instead he raised the point of his spear. ldquo;Very well. I will take guard duty. Which of you wants a break first?rdquo;
ldquo;Me, of course,rdquo; Hyperion said.
ldquo;Me!rdquo; Krios snapped. ldquo;Irsquo;ve been holding that button so long my thumb is going to fall off.rdquo;
ldquo;Irsquo;ve been standing here longer,rdquo; Hyperion grumbled. ldquo;You two guard the Doors while I go up to the mortal world. I have some Greek heroes to wreak vengeance upon!rdquo;
ldquo;Oh, no!rdquo; Krios complained. ldquo;That Roman boy is on his way to Epirusmdash;the one who killed me on Mount Othrys. Got lucky, he did. Now itrsquo;s my turn.rdquo;
ldquo;Bah!rdquo; Hyperion drew his sword. ldquo;Irsquo;ll gut you first, Ram-head!rdquo;
Krios raised his own blade. ldquo;You can try, but I wonrsquo;t be stuck in this stinking pit any longer!rdquo;
Annabeth caught Percyrsquo;s eyes. She mouthed: One, twomdash;
Before he could strike the chains, a high-pitched whine pierced his ears, like the sound of an incoming rocket. Percy just had time to think: Uh-oh. Then an explosion rocked the hillside. A wave of heat knocked Percy backward. Dark shrapnel ripped through Krios and Hyperion, shredding them as easily as wood in a chipper.
STINKING PIT. A hollow voice rolled across the plains, shaking the warm fleshy ground.
Bob staggered to his feet. Somehow the explosion hadnrsquo;t touched him. He swept his spear in front of him, trying to locate the source of the voice. Small Bob the kitten crawled into his coveralls.
Annabeth had landed about twenty feet from the Doors. When she stood, Percy was so relieved she was alive it took him a moment to realize she looked like herself. The Death Mist had evaporated.
He looked at his own hands. His disguise was gone too.
TITANS, said the voice disdainfully. LESSER BEINGS. IMPERFECT AND WEAK.
In front of the Doors of Death, the air darkened and solidified. The being who appeared was so massive, radiating such pure malevolence, that Percy wanted to crawl away and hide.
Instead, he forced his eyes to trace the godrsquo;s form, starting with his black iron boots, each one as large as a coffin. His legs were covered in dark greaves; his flesh all thick purple muscle, like the ground. His armored skirt was made from thousands of blackened, twisted bones, woven together like chain links and clasped in place by a belt of interlocking monstrous arms.
On the surface of the warriorrsquo;s breastplate, murky faces appeared and submergedmdash;giants, Cyclopes, gorgons, and drakonsmdash;all pressing against the armor as if trying to get out.
The warriorrsquo;s arms were baremdash;muscular, purple, and glisteningmdash;his hands as large as crane scoops.
Worst of all was his head: a helmet of twisted rock and metal with no particular shapemdash;just jagged spikes and pulsing patches of magma. His entire face was a whirlpoolmdash;an inward spiral of darkness. As Percy watched, the last particles of Titan essence from Hyperion and Krios were vacuumed into the warriorrsquo;s maw.
Somehow Percy found his voice. ldquo;Tartarus.rdquo;
The warrior made a sound like a mountain cracking in half: a roar or a laugh, Percy couldnrsquo;t be sure.
This form is only a small manifestation of my power, said the god. But it is enough to deal with you. I do not interfere lightly, little demigod. It is beneath me to deal with gnats such as yourself.
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Percyrsquo;s legs threatened to collapse under him. ldquo;Donrsquo;thellip;you knowhellip;go to any trouble.rdquo;
You have proven surprisingly resilient, Tartarus said. You have come too far. I can no longer stand by and watch your progress.
Tartarus spread his arms. Throughout the valley, thousands of monsters wailed and roared, clashing their weapons and bellowing in triumph. The Doors of Death shuddered in their chains.
Be honored, little demigods, said the god of the pit. Even the Olympians were never worthy of my personal attention. But you will be destroyed by Tartarus himself!
FRANK WAS HOPING FOR FIREWORKS.
Or at least a big sign that read: WELCOME HOME!
More than three thousand years ago, his Greek ancestormdash;good old Periclymenus the shape-shiftermdash;had sailed east with the Argonauts. Centuries later, Periclymenusrsquo;s descendants had served in the eastern Roman legions. Then, through a series of misadventures, the family had ended up in China, finally emigrating to Canada in the twentieth century. Now Frank was back in Greece, which meant that the Zhang family had completely circled the globe.
That seemed like cause for celebration, but the only welcoming committee was a flock of wild, hungry harpies who attacked the ship. Frank felt kind of bad as he shot them down with his bow. He kept thinking of Ella, their freakishly smart harpy friend from Portland. But these harpies werenrsquo;t Ella. They gladly would have chewed Frankrsquo;s face off. So he blasted them into clouds of dust and feathers.
The Greek landscape below was just as inhospitable. The hills were strewn with boulders and stunted cedars, all shimmering in the hazy air. The sun beat down as if trying to hammer the countryside into a Celestial bronze shield. Even from a hundred feet up, Frank could hear the drone of cicadas buzzing in the treesmdash;a sleepy, otherworldly sound that made his eyes heavy. Even the dueling voices of the war gods inside his head seemed to have dozed off. They had hardly bothered Frank at all since the crew had crossed into Greece.
Sweat trickled down his neck. After being frozen below deck by that crazy snow goddess, Frank had thought he would never feel warm again; but now the back of his shirt was soaked.
ldquo;Hot and steamy!rdquo; Leo grinned at the helm. ldquo;Makes me homesick for Houston! What do you say, Hazel? All we need now are some giant mosquitoes, and itrsquo;ll feel just like the Gulf Coast!rdquo;
ldquo;Thanks a lot, Leo,rdquo; Hazel grumbled. ldquo;Wersquo;ll probably get attacked by Ancient Greek mosquito monsters now.rdquo;
Frank studied the two of them, quietly marveling how the tension between them had disappeared. Whatever had happened to Leo during his five days of exile, it had changed him. He still joked around, but Frank sensed something different about himmdash;like a ship with a new keel. Maybe you couldnrsquo;t see the keel, but you could tell it was there by the way the ship cut through the waves.
Leo didnrsquo;t seem so intent on teasing Frank. He chatted more easily with Hazelmdash;not stealing those wistful, mooning glances that had always made Frank uncomfortable.
Hazel had diagnosed the problem privately to Frank: ldquo;He met someone.rdquo;
Frank was incredulous. ldquo;How? Where? How could you possibly know?rdquo;
Hazel smiled. ldquo;I just do.rdquo;
As if she were a child of Venus rather than Pluto. Frank didnrsquo;t get it.
Of course he was relieved that Leo wasnrsquo;t hitting on his girl, but Frank was also kind of worried about Leo. Sure, theyrsquo;d had their differences; but after all theyrsquo;d been through together, Frank didnrsquo;t want to see Leo get his heart broken.
ldquo;There!rdquo; Nicorsquo;s voice shook Frank out of his thoughts. As usual, di Angelo was perched atop the foremast. He pointed toward a glittering green river snaking through the hills a kilometer away. ldquo;Maneuver us that way. Wersquo;re close to the temple. Very close.rdquo;
As if to prove his point, black lightning ripped through the sky, leaving dark spots before Frankrsquo;s eyes and making the hairs on his arms stand up.
Jason strapped on his sword belt. ldquo;Everyone, arm yourself. Leo, get us close, but donrsquo;t landmdash;no more contact with the ground than necessary. Piper, Hazel, get the mooring ropes.rdquo;
ldquo;On it!rdquo; Piper said.
Hazel gave Frank a peck on the cheek and ran to help.
ldquo;Frank,rdquo; Jason called, ldquo;get below and find Coach Hedge.rdquo;
ldquo;Yep!rdquo;
He climbed downstairs and headed for Hedgersquo;s cabin. As he neared the door, he slowed down. He didnrsquo;t want to surprise the satyr with any loud noises. Coach Hedge had a habit of jumping into the gangway with his baseball bat if he thought attackers were on board. Frank had almost gotten his head taken off a couple of times on his way to the bathroom.
He raised his hand to knock. Then he realized the door was cracked open. He heard Coach Hedge talking inside.
ldquo;Come on, babe!rdquo; the satyr said. ldquo;You know itrsquo;s not like that!rdquo;
Frank froze. He didnrsquo;t mean to eavesdrop, but he wasnrsquo;t sure what to do. Hazel had mentioned being worried about the coach. Shersquo;d insisted something was bothering him, but Frank hadnrsquo;t thought much of it until now.
Hersquo;d never heard the coach talk so gently. Usually the only sounds Frank heard from the coachrsquo;s cabin were sporting events on the TV, or the coach yelling, ldquo;Yeah! Get rsquo;em!rdquo; as he watched his favorite martial arts movies. Frank was pretty sure the coach wouldnrsquo;t be calling Chuck Norris babe.
Another voice spokemdash;female, but barely audible, like it was coming from a long way away.
ldquo;I will,rdquo; Coach Hedge promised. ldquo;But, uh, wersquo;re going into battlerdquo;mdash;he cleared his throatmdash;ldquo;and it may get ugly. You just stay safe. Irsquo;ll get back. Honest.rdquo;
Frank couldnrsquo;t stand it anymore. He knocked loudly. ldquo;Hey, Coach?rdquo;
The talking stopped.
Frank counted to six. The door flew open.
Coach Hedge stood there scowling, his eyes bloodshot, like hersquo;d been watching too much TV. He wore his usual baseball cap and gym shorts, with a leather cuirass over his shirt and a whistle hanging from his neck, maybe in case he wanted to call a foul against the monster armies.
ldquo;Zhang. What do you want?rdquo;
ldquo;Uh, wersquo;re getting ready for battle. We need you above deck.rdquo;
The coachrsquo;s goatee quivered. ldquo;Yeah. rsquo;Course you do.rdquo; He sounded strangely unexcited about the prospect of
The coach plopped down on his berth. His cupped his chin in his hand and stared glumly around his cabin. The place looked like a college dorm room after a hurricanemdash;the floor strewn with laundry (maybe for wearing, maybe for snacks; it was hard to tell with satyrs), DVDs and dirty dishes scattered around the TV on the dresser. Every time the ship tilted, a mismatched herd of sports equipment rolled across the floormdash;footballs, basketballs, baseballs, and for some reason, a single billiard ball. Tufts of goat hair floated through the air and collected under the furniture in clumps. Dust goats? Goat bunnies?
On the coachrsquo;s nightstand sat a bowl of water, a stack of golden drachmas, a flashlight, and a glass prism for making rainbows. The coach had obviously come prepared to make a lot of Iris-messages.
Frank remembered what Piper had told him about the coachrsquo;s cloud nymph girlfriend who worked for Piperrsquo;s dad. What was the girlfriendrsquo;s namehellip; Melinda? Millicent? No, Mellie.
ldquo;Uh, is your girlfriend Mellie all right?rdquo; Frank ventured.
ldquo;None of your business!rdquo; the coach snapped.
ldquo;Okay.rdquo;
Hedge rolled his eyes. ldquo;Fine! If you must knowmdash;yes, I was talking to Mellie. But shersquo;s not my girlfriend anymore.rdquo;
ldquo;No, you dolt! We got married! Shersquo;s my wife!rdquo;
Frank wouldrsquo;ve been less stunned if the coach had smacked him. ldquo;Coach, thatrsquo;smdash;thatrsquo;s great! Whenmdash;howmdash;?rdquo;
ldquo;None of your business!rdquo; he yelled again.
ldquo;Umhellip;all right.rdquo;
ldquo;End of May,rdquo; the coach said. ldquo;Just before the Argo II sailed. We didnrsquo;t want to make a big deal out of it.rdquo;
Frank felt like the ship was tilting again, but it must have been just him. The herd of wild sports equipment stayed put against the far wall.
All this time the coach had been married? In spite of being a newlywed, hersquo;d agreed to come on this quest. No wonder Hedge made so many calls back home. No wonder he was so cranky and belligerent.
Stillhellip; Frank sensed there was more going on. The coachrsquo;s tone during the Iris-message made it sound like they were discussing a problem.
ldquo;I didnrsquo;t mean to eavesdrop,rdquo; Frank said. ldquo;Buthellip;is she okay?rdquo;
ldquo;It was a private conversation!rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah. Yoursquo;re right.rdquo;
ldquo;Fine! Irsquo;ll tell you.rdquo; Hedge plucked some fur off his thigh and let it float through the air. ldquo;She took a break from her job in L.A., went to Camp Half-Blood for the summer, because we figuredmdash;rdquo; His voice cracked. ldquo;We figured it would be safer. Now shersquo;s stuck there, with the Romans about to attack. Shersquo;shellip;shersquo;s pretty scared.rdquo;
Frank became very aware of the centurion badge on his shirt, the SPQR tattoo on his forearm.
ldquo;Sorry,rdquo; he murmured. ldquo;But if shersquo;s a cloud spirit, couldnrsquo;t she justhellip;you know, float away?rdquo;
The coach curled his fingers around the grip of his baseball bat. ldquo;Normally, yeah. But seehellip;shersquo;s in a delicate condition. It wouldnrsquo;t be safe.rdquo;
ldquo;A delicatehellip;rdquo; Frankrsquo;s eyes widened. ldquo;Shersquo;s going to have a baby? Yoursquo;re going to be a dad?rdquo;
ldquo;Shout it a little louder,rdquo; Hedge grumbled. ldquo;I donrsquo;t think they heard you in Croatia.rdquo;
Frank couldnrsquo;t help grinning. ldquo;But, Coach, thatrsquo;s awesome! A little baby satyr? Or maybe a nymph? Yoursquo;ll be a fantastic dad.rdquo;
Frank wasnrsquo;t sure why he felt that way, considering the coachrsquo;s love of baseball bats and roundhouse kicks, but he was sure.
Coach Hedge scowled even deeper. ldquo;The warrsquo;s coming, Zhang. Nowhere is safe. I should be there for Mellie. If I gotta die somewheremdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Hey, nobodyrsquo;s going to die,rdquo; Frank said.
Hedge met his eyes. Frank could tell the coach didnrsquo;t believe it.
ldquo;Always had a soft spot for children of Ares,rdquo; Hedge muttered. ldquo;Or Marsmdash;whichever. Maybe thatrsquo;s why Irsquo;m not pulverizing you for asking so many questions.rdquo;
ldquo;But I wasnrsquo;tmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Fine, Irsquo;ll tell you!rdquo; Hedge sighed again. ldquo;Back when I was on my first assignment as a seeker, I was way out in Arizona. Brought in this kid named Clarisse.rdquo;
ldquo;Clarisse?rdquo;
ldquo;Sibling of yours,rdquo; Hedge said. ldquo;Ares kid. Violent. Rude. Lots of potential. Anyway, while I was out, I had this dream about my mom. Shemdash;she was a cloud nymph like Mellie. I dreamed she was in trouble and needed my help right away. But I said to myself, Nah, itrsquo;s just a dream. Who would hurt a sweet old cloud nymph? Besides, I gotta get this half-blood to safety. So I finished my mission, brought Clarisse to Camp Half-Blood. Afterward, I went looking for my mom. I was too late.rdquo;
Frank watched the tuft of goat hair settle on top of a basketball. ldquo;What happened to her?rdquo;
Hedge shrugged. ldquo;No idea. Never saw her again. Maybe if Irsquo;d been there for her, if Irsquo;d got back soonerhellip;rdquo;
Frank wanted to say something comforting, but he wasnrsquo;t sure what. He had lost his mom in the war in Afghanistan, and he knew how empty the words Irsquo;m sorry could sound.
ldquo;You were doing your job,rdquo; Frank offered. ldquo;You saved a demigodrsquo;s life.rdquo;
Hedge grunted. ldquo;Now my wife and my unborn kid are in danger, halfway across the world, and I canrsquo;t do anything to help.rdquo;
ldquo;You are doing something,rdquo; Frank said. ldquo;Wersquo;re over here to stop the giants from waking Gaea. Thatrsquo;s the best way we can keep our friends safe.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah. Yeah, I suppose.rdquo;
Frank wished he could do more to lift Hedgersquo;s spirits, but this talk was making him worry about everyone hersquo;d left behind. He wondered who was defending Camp Jupiter now that the legion had marched east, especially with all the monsters Gaea was unleashing from the Doors of Death. He worried about his friends in the Fifth Cohort, and how they must be feeling as Octavian ordered them to march on Camp Half-Blood. Frank wanted to be back there, if only to stuff a teddy bear down the throat of that slimeball augur.
The ship listed forward. The herd of sports equipment rolled under the coachrsquo;s berth.
ldquo;Wersquo;re descending,rdquo; said Hedge. ldquo;Wersquo;d better get above.rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah,rdquo; Frank said, his voice hoarse.
ldquo;Yoursquo;re a nosy Roman, Zhang.rdquo;
ldquo;Butmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Come on,rdquo; Hedge said. ldquo;And not a word about this to the others, you blabbermouth.rdquo;
As the others made fast the aerial moorings, Leo grabbed Frank and Hazel by the arms. He dragged them to the aft ballista. ldquo;Okay, herersquo;s the plan.rdquo;
Hazel narrowed her eyes. ldquo;I hate your plans.rdquo;
ldquo;I need that piece of magic firewood,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;Snappy!rdquo;
Frank nearly choked on his own tongue. Hazel backed away, instinctively covering her coat pocket. ldquo;Leo, you canrsquo;tmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;I found a solution.rdquo; Leo turned to Frank. ldquo;Itrsquo;s your call, big guy, but I can protect you.rdquo;
Frank thought about how many times hersquo;d seen Leorsquo;s fingers burst into flame. One false move, and Leo could incinerate the piece of tinder that controlled Frankrsquo;s life.
But for some reason, Frank wasnrsquo;t terrified. Since facing down the cow monsters in Venice, Frank had barely thought about his fragile lifeline. Yes, the smallest bit of fire might kill him. But hersquo;d also survived some impossible things and made his dad proud. Frank had decided that whatever his fate was, he wouldnrsquo;t worry about it. He would just do the best he could to help his friends.
Besides, Leo sounded serious. His eyes were still full of that weird melancholy, like he was in two places at once; but nothing about his expression indicated any kind of joke.
ldquo;Go ahead, Hazel,rdquo; Frank said.
ldquo;Buthellip;rdquo; Hazel took a deep breath. ldquo;Okay.rdquo; She took out the piece of firewood and handed it to Leo.
In Leorsquo;s hands, it wasnrsquo;t much bigger than a screwdriver. The tinder was still charred on one side from where Frank had used it to burn through the icy chains that had imprisoned the god Thanatos in Alaska.
From a pocket of his tool belt, Leo produced a piece of white cloth. ldquo;Behold!rdquo;
Frank scowled. ldquo;A handkerchief?rdquo;
ldquo;A surrender flag?rdquo; Hazel guessed.
ldquo;No, unbelievers!rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;This is a pouch woven from seriously cool fabricmdash;a gift from a friend of mine.rdquo;
Leo slipped the firewood into the pouch and pulled it closed with a tie of bronze thread.
ldquo;The drawstring was my idea,rdquo; Leo said proudly. ldquo;It took some work, lacing that into the fabric, but the pouch wonrsquo;t open unless you want it to. The fabric breathes just like regular cloth, so the firewood isnrsquo;t any more sealed up than it would be in Hazelrsquo;s coat pocket.rdquo;
ldquo;Uhhellip;rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;How is that an improvement, then?rdquo;
ldquo;Hold this so I donrsquo;t give you a heart attack.rdquo; Leo tossed the pouch to Frank, who almost fumbled it.
Leo summoned a white-hot ball of fire into his right hand. He held his left forearm over the flames, grinning as they licked the sleeve of his jacket.
ldquo;See?rdquo; he said. ldquo;It doesnrsquo;t burn!rdquo;
Frank didnrsquo;t like to argue with a guy who was holding a ball of fire, but he said, ldquo;Uhhellip;yoursquo;re immune to flames.rdquo;
Leo rolled his eyes. ldquo;Yeah, but I have to concentrate if I donrsquo;t want my clothes to burn. And Irsquo;m not concentrating, see? This is totally fireproof cloth. Which means your firewood wonrsquo;t burn in that pouch.rdquo;
Hazel looked unconvinced. ldquo;How can you be sure?rdquo;
ldquo;Sheesh, tough audience.rdquo; Leo shut off the fire. ldquo;Guess therersquo;s only one way to persuade you.rdquo; He held out his hand to Frank.
ldquo;Uh, no, no.rdquo; Frank backed off. Suddenly all those brave thoughts about accepting his fate seemed far away. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s okay, Leo. Thanks, but Imdash;I canrsquo;tmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Man, you gotta trust me.rdquo;
Frankrsquo;s heart raced. Did he trust Leo? Well, surehellip;with an engine. With a practical joke. But with his life?
He remembered the day they had gotten stuck in the underground workshop in Rome. Gaea had promised they would die in that room. Leo had promised he would get Hazel and Frank out of the trap. And hersquo;d done it.
Now Leo spoke with the same kind of confidence.
ldquo;Okay.rdquo; Frank handed Leo the pouch. ldquo;Try not to kill me.rdquo;
Leorsquo;s hand blazed. The pouch didnrsquo;t blacken or burn.
Frank waited for something to go horribly wrong. He counted to twenty, but he was still alive. He felt as if a block of ice were melting just behind his sternummdash;a frozen chunk of fear hersquo;d gotten so used to he didnrsquo;t even think about it until it was gone.
ldquo;It was, wasnrsquo;t it?rdquo; Leo agreed. ldquo;So who wants to take this newly ultra-safe piece of firewood?rdquo;
ldquo;Irsquo;ll keep it,rdquo; Frank said.
Hazel pursed her lips. She looked down, maybe so Frank wouldnrsquo;t see the hurt in her eyes. Shersquo;d protected that firewood for him through a lot of hard battles. It was a sign of trust between them, a symbol of their relationship.
ldquo;Hazel, itrsquo;s not about you,rdquo; Frank said, as gently as he could. ldquo;I canrsquo;t explain, but Imdash;I have a feeling Irsquo;m going to need to step up when wersquo;re in the House of Hades. I need to carry my own burden.rdquo;
Hazelrsquo;s golden eyes were full of concern. ldquo;I understand. I justhellip;I worry.rdquo;
Leo tossed Frank the pouch. Frank tied it around his belt. He felt strange carrying his fatal weakness so openly, after months of keeping it hidden.
ldquo;And, Leo,rdquo; he said, ldquo;thanks.rdquo;
It seemed inadequate for the gift Leo had given him, but Leo grinned. ldquo;What are genius friends for?rdquo;
ldquo;Hey, guys!rdquo; Piper called from the bow. ldquo;Better get over here. You need to see this.rdquo;
Theyrsquo;d found the source of the dark lightning.
The Argo II hovered directly over the river. A few hundred meters away at the top of the nearest hill stood a cluster of ruins. They didnrsquo;t look like muchmdash;just some crumbling walls encircling the limestone shells of a few buildingsmdash;but from somewhere within the ruins, tendrils of black ether curled into the sky, like a smoky squid peeking from its cave. As Frank watched, a bolt of dark energy ripped through the air, rocking the ship and sending a cold shockwave across the landscape.
ldquo;The Necromanteion,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;The House of Hades.rdquo;
Frank steadied himself at the rail. He supposed it was too late to suggest turning back. He was starting to feel nostalgic about the monsters hersquo;d fought in Rome. Heck, chasing poison cows through Venice had been more appealing than this place.
Piper hugged her arms. ldquo;I feel vulnerable floating up here like this. Couldnrsquo;t we set down in the river?rdquo;
ldquo;I wouldnrsquo;t,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s the River Acheron.rdquo;
Jason squinted in the sunlight. ldquo;I thought the Acheron was in the Underworld.rdquo;
ldquo;It is,rdquo; Hazel said. ldquo;But its headwaters are in the mortal world. That river below us? Eventually it flows underground, straight into the realm of Plutomdash;er, Hades. Landing a demigod ship on those watersmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Yeah, letrsquo;s stay up here,rdquo; Leo decided. ldquo;I donrsquo;t want any zombie water on my hull.rdquo;
Half a kilometer downstream, some fishing boats were puttering along. Frank guessed they didnrsquo;t know or care about the history of this river. Must be nice, being a regular mortal.
Next to Frank, Nico di Angelo raised the scepter of Diocletian. Its orb glowed with purple light, as if in sympathy with the dark storm. Roman relic or not, the scepter troubled Frank. If it really had the power to summon a legion of the deadhellip;well, Frank wasnrsquo;t sure that was such a great idea.
Jason had once told him that the children of Mars had a similar ability. Supposedly, Frank could call on ghostly soldiers from the losing side of any war to serve him. Hersquo;d never had much luck with that power, probably because it freaked him out too much. He was worried he might become one of those ghosts if they lost this warmdash;eternally doomed to pay for his failures, assuming there was anyone left to summon him.
ldquo;So, uh, Nicohellip;rdquo; Frank gestured at the scepter. ldquo;Have you learned to use that thing?rdquo;
ldquo;Wersquo;ll find out.rdquo; Nico stared at the tendrils of darkness undulating from the ruins. ldquo;I donrsquo;t intend to try until I have to. The Doors of Death are already working overtime bringing in Gaearsquo;s monsters. Any more activity raising the dead, and the Doors might shatter permanently, leaving a rip in the mortal world that canrsquo;t be closed.rdquo;
Coach Hedge grunted. ldquo;I hate rips in the world. Letrsquo;s go bust some monster heads.rdquo;
Frank looked at the satyrrsquo;s grim expression. Suddenly he had an idea. ldquo;Coach, you should stay on board, cover us with the ballistae.rdquo;
Hedge frowned. ldquo;Stay behind? Me? Irsquo;m your best soldier!rdquo;
ldquo;We might need air support,rdquo; Frank said. ldquo;Like we did in Rome. You saved our braccae.rdquo;
He didnrsquo;t add: Plus, Irsquo;d like you to get back to your wife and baby alive.
Hedge apparently got the message. His scowl relaxed. Relief showed in his eyes.
ldquo;Wellhellip;rdquo; he grumbled, ldquo;I suppose somebodyrsquo;s got to save your braccae.rdquo;
Jason clapped the coach on the shoulder. Then he gave Frank an appreciative nod. ldquo;So thatrsquo;s settled. Everybody elsemdash;letrsquo;s get to the ruins. Time to crash Gaearsquo;s party.rdquo;
DESPITE THE MIDDAY HEAT and the raging storm of death energy, a group of tourists was climbing over the ruins. Fortunately there werenrsquo;t many, and they didnrsquo;t give the demigods a second look.
After the crowds in Rome, Frank had stopped worrying too much about getting noticed. If they could fly their warship into the Roman Colosseum with ballistae blazing and not even cause a traffic slowdown, he figured they could get away with anything.
Nico led the way. At the top of the hill, they climbed over an old retaining wall and down into an excavated trench. Finally they arrived at a stone doorway leading straight into the side of the hill. The death storm seemed to originate right above their heads. Looking up at the swirling tentacles of darkness, Frank felt like he was trapped at the bottom of a flushing toilet bowl. That really didnrsquo;t calm his nerves.
Nico faced the group. ldquo;From here, it gets tough.rdquo;
ldquo;Sweet,rdquo; Leo said. ldquo;rsquo;Cause so far Irsquo;ve totally been pulling my punches.rdquo;
Nico glared at him. ldquo;Wersquo;ll see how long you keep your sense of humor. Remember, this is where pilgrims came to commune with dead ancestors. Underground, you may see things that are hard to look at, or hear voices trying to lead you astray in the tunnels. Frank, do you have the barley cakes?rdquo;
ldquo;What?rdquo; Frank had been thinking about his grandmother and his mom, wondering if they might appear to him. For the first time in days, the voices of Ares and Mars had started to argue again in the back of Frankrsquo;s mind, debating their favorite forms of violent death.
ldquo;Irsquo;ve got the cakes,rdquo; Hazel said. She pulled out the magical barley crackers theyrsquo;d made from the grain Triptolemus had given them in Venice.
ldquo;Eat up,rdquo; Nico advised.
Frank chewed his cracker of death and tried not to gag. It reminded him of a cookie made with sawdust instead of sugar.
ldquo;Yum,rdquo; Piper said. Even the daughter of Aphrodite couldnrsquo;t avoid making a face.
ldquo;Okay.rdquo; Nico choked down the last of his barley. ldquo;That should protect us from the poison.rdquo;
ldquo;Poison?rdquo; Leo asked. ldquo;Did I miss the poison? rsquo;Cause I love poison.rdquo;
ldquo;Soon enough,rdquo; Nico promised. ldquo;Just stick close together, and maybe we can avoid getting lost or going insane.rdquo;
On that happy note, Nico led them underground.
The tunnel spiraled gently downward, the ceiling supported by white stone arches that reminded Frank of a whalersquo;s rib cage.
As they walked, Hazel ran her hands along the masonry. ldquo;This wasnrsquo;t part of a temple,rdquo; she whispered. ldquo;This washellip;the basement for a manor house, built in later Greek times.rdquo;
Frank found it eerie how Hazel could tell so much about an underground place just by being there. Hersquo;d never known her to be mistaken.
ldquo;A manor house?rdquo; he asked. ldquo;Please donrsquo;t tell me wersquo;re in the wrong place.rdquo;
ldquo;The House of Hades is below us,rdquo; Nico assured him. ldquo;But Hazelrsquo;s right, these upper levels are much newer. When the archaeologists first excavated this site, they thought theyrsquo;d found the Necromanteion. Then they realized the ruins were too recent, so they decided it was the wrong spot. They were right the first time. They just didnrsquo;t dig deep enough.rdquo;
They turned a corner and stopped. In front of them, the tunnel ended in a huge block of stone.
ldquo;A cave-in?rdquo; Jason asked.
ldquo;A test,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;Hazel, would you do the honors?rdquo;
Hazel stepped forward. She placed her hand on the rock, and the entire boulder crumbled to dust.
The tunnel shuddered. Cracks spread across the ceiling. For a terrifying moment, Frank imagined theyrsquo;d all be crushed under tons of earthmdash;a disappointing way to die, after all theyrsquo;d been through. Then the rumbling stopped. The dust settled.
A set of stairs curved deeper into the earth, the barreled ceiling held up by more repeating arches, closer together and carved from polished black stone. The descending arches made Frank feel dizzy, as if he were looking into an endlessly reflecting mirror. Painted on the walls were crude pictures of black cattle marching downward.
ldquo;I really donrsquo;t like cows,rdquo; Piper muttered.
ldquo;Agreed,rdquo; Frank said.
ldquo;Those are the cattle of Hades,rdquo; Nico said. ldquo;Itrsquo;s just a symbol ofmdash;rdquo;
ldquo;Look.rdquo; Frank pointed.
On the first step of the stairwell, a golden chalice gleamed. Frank was pretty sure it hadnrsquo;t been there a moment before. The cup was full of dark-green liquid.
ldquo;Hooray,rdquo; Leo said halfheartedly. ldquo;I suppose thatrsquo;s our poison.rdquo;
Nico picked up the chalice. ldquo;Wersquo;re standing at the ancient entrance of the Necromanteion. Odysseus came here, and dozens of other heroes, seeking advice from the dead.rdquo;
ldquo;Did the dead advise them to leave immediately?rdquo; Leo asked.
ldquo;I would be fine with that,rdquo; Piper admitted.
Nico drank from the chalice, then offered it to Jason. ldquo;You asked me about trust, and taking a risk? Well, here you go, son of Jupiter. How much do you trust me?rdquo;
Frank wasnrsquo;t sure what Nico was talking about, but Jason didnrsquo;t hesitate. He took the cup and drank.
They passed it around, each taking a sip of poison. As he waited his turn, Frank tried to keep his legs from shaking and his gut from churning. He wondered what his grandmother would say if she could see him.
Stupid, Fai Zhang! she would probably scold. If all your friends were drinking poison, would you do it too?
Frank went last. The taste of the green liquid reminded him of spoiled apple juice. He drained the chalice. It turned to smoke in his hands.
Nico nodded, apparently satisfied. ldquo;Congratulations. Assuming the poison doesnrsquo;t kill us, we should be able to find our way through the Necromanteionrsquo;s first level.rdquo;
ldquo;Just the first level?rdquo; Piper asked.
Nico turned to Hazel and gestured at the stairs. ldquo;After you, sister.rdquo;
In no time, Frank felt completely lost. The stairs split in three different directions. As soon as Hazel chose a path, the stairs split a
