Hazel was, to be quite honest, getting a bit tired of this cryptic business. It came hand in hand with being a halfblood, but you'd think that with the end of the world rushing up on them, the gods would get over themselves. About the only thing that stopped her from mouthing off at Hecate was the presence of the witch-weasel, and Hecuba Queen of the Kennel. The last thing any of them needed was Hazel getting turned into a porcupine.
"Which option has Percy and Annabeth okay at the end?" It was a struggle to keep her voice steady under the relentless stare of the goddess of magic, but she managed.
Hecate tipped her head to one side, considering. "Percy Jackson was warned," she said. "So were his companions. And yet, when the crossroads approached, he chose wrong and endangered more than just himself."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"The son of Poseidon and daughter of Athena are in Tartarus. No path remains in which they are both 'okay'." Her mouth twisted around the word like it tasted bad.
Tears pricked at Hazel's eyes. She swallowed them down angrily, forcing herself to ask. "Alive, then. How do we make sure they live?"
Silence.
"Hecate? Please. Please."
"You cannot make sure," she said finally. "But I will show you the path that does not end in certain death for those two."
It was only after Hazel had returned to the others and told them what she'd learnt that she considered the emphasis the goddess had put on those two.
There was nothing like the scream of a woman scorned, Annabeth thought grimly. She shoved Kelli off her while the empousa was distracted by the ghost of boyfriends past, more screams from the side indicating that Percy had taken advantage of the distraction as well.
"You-" Kelli snarled. "You-!"
Luke grinned. It was a nasty expression, made worse by the gaunt hollows in his face. "I know I'm looking good, but there's no need to get speechless on me. Annabeth, catch!"
Annabeth reacted on an instinct born from some deep and buried part of her. She had thought it dead a long time ago, but when Luke told her to catch, her arm came up before her brain could question his motives.
"You son of a-" Percy yelled, but Luke had thrown the dagger to her, not at her. Annabeth snatched the weapon out of the air, packaged her feelings up into a neat box, and slid celestial bronze between Kelli's ribs. It all happened so fast, the empousa was still looking at Luke when she died.
It was almost distressingly easy after that. With a weapon in her hand Annabeth regained her ruthless efficiency, and Percy could focus properly. They worked their way through the monsters to fight back to back, while overhead, Luke pulled out a wicked looking sword and...helped.
Finally, silence, except for the awful ambience of Tartarus and their own breathing. Annabeth fumbled for Percy's hand and squeezed hard enough to cut the circulation, or at least that was what it felt like. Luke dipped a little in mid-air, glancing over his shoulder before he set himself on the ground.
He ran a hand through his hair. It was longer than he preferred to keep it, dirty and lank and flopping into his eyes. The scar that sliced under the left one seemed thicker than before, but that might have been due to the thinness of his face. With a sick sort of curiosity, Annabeth wondered if there was one under his arm.
Did death wounds scar?
"Thought I was throwing it at her?" A wry...something twisted Luke's mouth. It was too grim to be called a smile. "Guess I can't blame you."
Percy's hand twitched in hers, but he stayed silent. Waiting, she realised, for her cue.
"You-" Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat, tried again. "You're supposed to-"
But whatever Luke was supposed to be was lost to a thundering sound approaching at speed. Annabeth and Percy swung to face it at the same time - the direction Luke had looked back in. He seemed vaguely alarmed by this.
"No, it's cool," he said hurriedly. "You're not in any danger."
Ten feet of Titan crashing onto the scene begged to differ.
Percy wondered vaguely if he had started hallucinating.
All things considered, it didn't seem unlikely. They had fallen into hell. The lingering voices of misery still lingered in his head, weak, pathetic, pointless. Why not visions? Returning to a time when his biggest problem was Luke and a bunch of Titans - while not, admittedly, an insignificant kind of problem, it was something he had tackled before.
He brought his sword up. And that was when the Titan turned his silver gaze on the two halfbloods, and grinned widely. "Percy! See, Luke? I told you I heard friends."
Both Percy and Annabeth turned, slowly, to stare at Luke. To his credit, he shifted uncomfortably under the combined weight, making zero effort to pretend like this was in any way a normal situation.
"This is Bob," Luke said finally. His face twisted again, in that way Percy thought meant he was trying to smile. "You're already acquainted, Percy, but I'm guessing this is Annabeth's first time meeting our Titan friend."
Percy had, after Luke died, called for a shroud. He had understood Luke, or at least, thought he did. Maybe now, he understood more than ever - the resentment that simmered in the pit of your stomach, just waiting to boil over under the right set of circumstances. He'd kind of put Luke's douche behaviour down to that resentment, and the whole Kronos situation.
Now he wondered if Luke hadn't just always been a dick.
"Hi, Bob," Annabeth said. Her hand was a vice on Percy's. He couldn't blame her.
"Nice to meet you, friend Annabeth." The Titan frowned, noticing a bloody scrape the empousai had given her.
He glanced at Luke, who nodded. Both Annabeth and Percy tensed as Bob reached out to touch her, but a second passed, and the wound was gone. He remembered, dimly, Bob doing the same thing back when he had stopped being Iapetus and started being Bob.
Something ugly squirmed in Percy's gut at Luke assuming he could give permission for someone else to touch Annabeth. If possible, she grew even more tense.
"We're exposed here," said Luke, glancing around. "Come on, I'll take you back to base. It's not exactly safe, but-"
"No."
It was Annabeth who spoke, and the acid in her voice surprised all of them. Luke's mouth twisted down for a second - pain, or irritation? Percy couldn't tell.
"Annabeth-"
"The last time we saw you, you were trying to kill everyone! You tried to kill me."
"I stopped," he protested. "I put an end to it."
"After how many people died," she said, ice in her voice. "Why are you even here? I thought you were going for rebirth."
It was well-hidden. Annabeth was a sight to behold when she was angry, and Percy doubted even Luke, who had known her longer than almost anyone, would be able to see past that. As a rule, Luke had never been especially great at dealing with being attacked by Annabeth. Rich, for someone who had trapped her under the weight of the world.
But Percy knew her. Maybe he hadn't known her as long as Luke, but he'd sure as hell been there for her when Luke hadn't. There was a crack in that ice, a chasm of hurt only barely frosted over. She was angry, because if she didn't embrace that anger, there would only be pain left.
"We don't have to stay," he said quietly, swallowing down his own anger. He could do that, for her. "We just have to keep following the river towards the doors, like the original plan."
"I wanted to help," Luke said. They both turned to stare at him again. Next to him, Bob shifted, clearly uncomfortable.
"Help with what? Did you know this was happening? That Gaia was going to rise?" The harsh note of accusation in Annabeth's tone fit right into the atmosphere.
"No! Fates, Annabeth, what do you take me for?"
"What do you think?"
"FRIENDS," Bob bellowed. A primal note of fear and danger sang through Percy's bones. The Titan seemed docile for now, but he was still a Titan. It hadn't been so long ago that they were trying to take over the world. It hadn't been so long ago that Percy had fought this particular Titan. "This place is not safe. Especially not safe for mortals." He nodded, like he was confirming that fact for himself. "We must keep moving before they catch us."
"They?" Percy blurted. He didn't mean to, wanted to stay quiet so Annabeth could do or say whatever she needed to without interruption from him. But 'they' and 'catch' called for a little more immediate action.
Silver eyes regarded him. There was a kindness there, but not the unreserved simplicity he'd seen when Bob had first come into being. Bob knew something about Percy. Not enough that he wasn't calling him 'friend', but something to make him the mind-wiped Titan version of suspicious.
"We must go," Bob declared. "Come. I know where it is safe."
"No!" It was Luke's turn to blurt. "Not that one. There's one further off."
"We're not going anywhere further off," Annabeth growled. "And Bob, I appreciate your offering to help, but I'm not sure we should trust you."
"That is fair," Bob agreed. "But this is Tartarus. It is not safe here for you. We cannot stay."
Who did 'you' refer to, though? Was it safe for Bob? Was it safe for Luke?
"What issue does Luke have with the place you want to take us to?" Percy tried. Honestly, he wasn't sure what to do with the whole 'dead enemy back to life in front of him' situation. Somehow, addressing a janitorial Titan seemed like the more sensible option.
If anything in this place could be considered sensible. Bob's words itched at the back of his mind. Before they catch us. There were about a million different monsters that could refer to.
Bob turned again to look at Luke. The scar seemed ever starker as the older guy clearly struggled with something - although what it was, who knew?
"It isn't safe," Bob said again, softly, and whatever struggle Luke was having one side won out.
"Fine," he muttered. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's personal. You'll see when we get there, I guess. You never were stupid."
He looked at Annabeth as he said it - in fact, he barely seemed able to take his eyes off her. Percy could relate, but he didn't especially want to. A distant memory pinged, Luke struggling to keep talking as Annabeth bent over him. Did you love me?
He had to focus on her. At the end of the day, Luke was Annabeth's demon, not his. She turned her face up to his, grey eyes scanning his face. Once, maybe, this would have been an angry discussion, one of bruised egos and jealousy and fear. It probably even would have happened out loud.
Now, all it takes is that brief look. A silent discussion: do you want-? okay, yeah. I love you. (I love you).
Annabeth turned back to Luke. "We'll go. At least until we get to this safe place of yours."
"Okay." And there was a noticeable sag to his shoulders. Percy thought it might have been relief, but there was something else in the gesture as well. Not that one, Luke had said.
They were already in Tartarus. What was it about this place that made it more avoidable than the rest?
"Walk in front," Annabeth said shortly. There was nothing she could do to make Luke follow that order, short of actively attacking him. They all knew it. Luke gave that stupid little twist of his both and a short, sardoic bow, stepping ahead of them.
"I will take the rear," Bob declared happily. Most everything Bob said was said happily. Considering their location, it was more than a little unsettling.
Annabeth glanced back at Percy, who shrugged a little helplessly. Neither of them were happy about having a Titan at their back, but of all the monsters in Tartarus who might sneak up behind them, she supposed Bob was the best option. At least he wasn't guaranteed to try and stab them in the back.
Luke led them along the banks of the Phlegethon. Annabeth did her best to just concentrate on each successive step, on getting through this, but it wasn't in her nature to stop thinking. Her eyes were drawn inevitably back to Luke every couple of seconds, when she wasn't keeping them peeled for possible attacks from every direction - he'd come from the sky, after all.
And gods, wasn't that just like him? He'd always craved attention, acknowledgement. Why get the drop on Kelli when you could announce your entrance to everyone for greatest effect? She knew she should stop squeezing Percy's hand at some point soon, but she couldn't seem to unknot her fingers from his. He was, currently, the only thing in the whole world that made sense.
"You said you wanted to help," she called ahead finally, hyperaware of the biting tone to her voice. "So you're saying that you came here on your own? Voluntarily?"
The thing was, maintaining her anger was the only way she could think of to deal with this situation. Luke was here. Luke was here, in Tartarus. Luke, who had betrayed her and redeemed himself and died. It was a lot easier to accept that redemption when you didn't have to deal with the fallout of it.
And it was a lot easier to deal with your oldest friend dying when you could tell yourself he was going to the land of heroes in the afterlife.
Luke glanced at her over his shoulder. It hadn't escaped Annabeth's notice that his focus was almost entirely on her, Percy a cautious afterthought to make sure he wasn't about to have Riptide at his throat. Of course, he'd only ever really known Percy as an enemy. He didn't know that Percy had called for a shroud, that Percy had held the gods accountable for Luke's mistakes.
Annabeth had been the one to hold him as he died. That built a connection between them, she supposed, even though he had done everything in his power to rip and tear the old one.
"The Underworld is not a vault," he said. "Obviously. The two of you are here, and neither of you are dead."
"How do you know that."
He snorted. "You really expect me to believe you two of all people are going to end up in Tartarus when you go?"
That...was a good point. Annabeth had feared for her life more times than she could count, but she had never really worried about her afterlife. The singular, solitary small mercy of being a halfblood, she supposed.
"The shoes." Percy nodded at Luke's chucks. "They came down another hole."
Because you gave them to me to drag me here hung thickly in the air between them all. Luke turned his head forward to the seething murk of Tartarus. "You remember that, huh?"
"It's not exactly something you forget quickly."
"Right."
There was a pause where Annabeth wondered if he would apologise. But what would be the point? It was hardly the last horrific thing Luke had done. The dizzying list spun through Annabeth's mind, making her doubt the course of action they were taking. Luke had redeemed himself. Luke had done so many terrible things to require redeeming. Luke had been under Kronos' control. Luke had invited Kronos in.
"I snuck out," he continued, in lieu of anything better to do. "The gods were going crazy, the other souls were whispering about Gaia and the earth rising, and - yeah, I got a sense of deja vu. Maybe I should have stayed away. But the Doors were lost and monsters kept pouring into the mortal world. Even I couldn't find a way to sneak out of Elysium into life again, but it's a hell of a lot easier to get into Tartarus. People aren't exactly lining up to get here."
Behind her, Annabeth heard Bod shift. She whipped around to look at him; he was staring at Luke, a troubled frown on his face. When he noticed her looking, that bright, innocent smile cracked across his face again. He gave her a little wave. Not sure what else to do, Annabeth waved back. Next to her, almost silently, Percy huffed out a little laugh.
She elbowed him. He elbowed her back, and things might have devolved from there, a sliver of ridiculousness against the bleak awfulness of the terrain, if not for Luke.
It was impossible to escape the reality of Luke, standing in front of her now. Anger shivered through Annabeth again, without source and without direction. What was she supposed to do with it? What was she supposed to do with him.
"So why did you? Line up, I mean. Sneak in here. There wasn't anything you could do from Elysium? And I thought you were going to try for the Isles of the Blessed. You seem to be remembering us just fine."
"I don't remember there being an us," he said dryly, gesturing at her hand wound tightly around Percy's. Whatever good humour Bob's little wave had engendered vanished, like it had never existed in the first place. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised though."
"Guess it's not really any of your business," Percy shot back. "Answer her questions."
"Hey." Luke whirled on him, hand twitching towards his mean-looking sword. Percy didn't wait for him to follow through, pulling Riptide out without a breath of hesitation. Luke's hand fell back, although an ugly cloud of irritation stormed across his features. "I'm not your captive here, Jackson. In case you didn't notice, I saved your ass back there."
He'd saved both their asses, actually, but Annabeth was getting the feeling that Luke had put her and Percy in two very separate categories.
"Yeah? I'll take if off your tab. Y'know, considering how many time you've tried to kill me before."
"Percy," Annabeth said, and for the first time since Luke had shown up she felt her tone modulate a bit, softening. "It's not worth it."
It was hard for him. Percy's hold on his temper had always been a bit wonky, although not - in Annabeth's opinion - in a bad way. But she remembered the rage in his voice after she'd killed Arachne, and worried.
He swallowed. She breathed. "Okay," he said. "Okay."
Footsteps announced that Luke was moving again, not looking back at them. They all lurched into motion, their separate steps drowned out by the thunder of Bob behind them. Bubbles of membrane and monsters rose up around them - zits on the face of Tartarus. Luke popped them savagely as they went, the white of his sword drenched red in the strange light of the land around them.
It occurred to Annabeth that she still hadn't gotten her answers.
"We are close," Bob said eventually, voice quiet in a way his steps hadn't been. No other monsters had been drawn near by all the noise he made.
Maybe no other monsters were stupid enough to put themselves in close proximity to a Titan. They crested a ridge, the hazy landscape giving way to crater-like dent dotted with black marble columns and what looked to be an...altar?
"Rest stop, sweet rest stop," Luke said. Bitterness had eaten anything recognisable from his tone. "Welcome to the shrine of Hermes."