THE THING ABOUT PLUMMETING DOWNHILL at fifty miles an hour on a snack
platter—if you realize it's a bad idea when you're halfway down, it's too
late.
Percy narrowly missed a tree, glanced off a boulder, and spun a three-
sixty as he shot toward the highway. The stupid snack tray did not have
power steering. Neither did the screaming girl on his back have a mute button. He heard the gorgon sisters screaming and caught a
glimpse of Euryale's coral-snake hair at the top of the hill, but he didn't
have time to worry about it. The roof of the apartment building loomed
below him like the prow of a battleship. Head-on collision in ten, nine,
eight...
He managed to swivel sideways to avoid breaking his legs on impact.
The snack platter skittered across the roof and sailed through the air. The
platter went one way. Percy went the other.
As he fell toward the highway, a horrible scenario flashed through his mind: his body smashing against an SUV's windshield, some annoyed
commuter trying to push him off with the wipers. Stupid sixteen-year-old
kid falling from the sky! I'm late!
Miraculously, a gust of wind blew him to one side—just enough to miss
the highway and crash into a clump of bushes. It wasn't a soft landing, but it
was better than asphalt.
Percy groaned. He wanted to lie there and pass out, but he had to
keep moving.
He struggled to his feet. His hands were scratched up, but no bones
seemed to be broken. He still had his backpack. Then tumbling down the hill was a even dirtier Sage. Somewhere on the sled
ride he'd lost his sword, but Percy knew it would eventually reappear in his
pocket in pen form. That was part of its magic.
He glanced up the hill. The gorgons were hard to miss, with their
colorful snake hair and their bright green Bargain Mart vests. They were
picking their way down the slope, going slower than Percy but with a lot more control. Those chicken feet must've been good for climbing. Percy
figured he had maybe five minutes before they reached him.
Next to him, a tall chain-link fence separated the highway from a
neighborhood of winding streets, cozy houses, and talleucalyptus trees.
The fence was probably there to keep people from getting onto the
highway and doing stupid things—like sledding into the fast lane on snack
trays—but the chain-link was full of big holes. Percy could easily slip
through into the neighborhood. Maybe he could find a car and drive west to
the ocean. He didn't like stealing cars, but over the past few weeks, in life-
and-death situations, he'd "borrowed" several, including a police cruiser.
He'd meant to return them, but they never seemed to last very long.
He glanced east. Just as he'd figured, a hundred yards uphill the
highway cut through the base of the cliff. Two tunnel entrances, one for
each direction of traffic, stared down at him like eye sockets of a giant
skull. In the middle, where the nose would have been, a cement wall jutted
from the hillside, with a metal door like the entrance to a bunker.
It might have been a maintenance tunnel. That's probably what mortals
thought, if they noticed the door at all. But they couldn't see through the Mist. Percy knew the door was more than that.
Two kids in armor flanked the entrance. They wore a bizarre mix of
plumed Roman helmets, breastplates, scabbards, blue jeans, purple T-
shirts, and white athletic shoes. The guard on the right looked like a girl,
though it was hard to tell for sure with all the armor. The one on the left was
a stocky guy with a bow and quiver on his back. Both kids held long
wooden staffs with iron spear tips, like old-fashioned harpoons. Sage whistled in admiration. "Nice armor"
Percy's internal radar was pinging like crazy. After so many horrible
days, he'd finally reached his goal. His instincts told him that if he could make it inside that door, he might find safety for the first time since the
wolves had sent him south.
So why did he feel such dread?
Farther up the hill, the gorgons were scrambling over the roof of the
apartment complex. Three minutes away—maybe less.
Part of him wanted to run to the door in the hill. He'd have to cross to
the median of the highway, but then it would be a short sprint. He could make it before the gorgons reached him.
Part of him wanted to head west to the ocean. That's where he'd be
safest. That's where his power would be greatest. Those Roman guards at
the door made him uneasy. Something inside him said: This isn't my
territory. This is dangerous.
"You're right, of course," said a voice next to him.
Percy jumped. Sage yelped. At first he thought Beano had managed to sneak up on
him again, but the old lady sitting in the bushes was even more repulsive
than a gorgon. She looked like a hippie who'd been kicked to the side of
the road maybe forty years ago, where she'd been collecting trash and
rags ever since. She wore a dress made of tie-dyed cloth, ripped-up quilts,
and plastic grocery bags. Her frizzy mop of hair was gray-brown, like root-
beer foam, tied back with a peace-sign headband. Warts and moles
covered her face. When she smiled, she showed exactly three teeth.
"It isn't a maintenance tunnel," she confided. "It's the entrance to
camp."
A jolt went up Percy's spine. Camp. Yes, that's where he was from. A
camp. Maybe this was his home. Maybe Annabeth was close by.
But something felt wrong.
The gorgons were still on the roof of the apartment building. Then
Stheno shrieked in delight and pointed in Percy's direction.
The old hippie lady raised her eyebrows. "Not much time, child. You
need to make your choice."
"Who are you?" Sage asked, though Percy wasn't sure he wanted to
know. The last thing he needed was another harmless mortal who turned
out to be a monster.
"Oh, you can call me June." The old lady's eyes sparkled as if she'd made an excellent joke. "It i s June, isn't it? They named the month after me!"
"Okay...Look, I should go. Two gorgons are coming. I don't want them
to hurt you."
June clasped her hands over her heart. "How sweet! But that's part of
your choice!"
"My choice..." Percy glanced nervously toward the hill. The gorgons
had taken off their green vests. Wings sprouted from their backs—small
bat wings, which glinted like brass.
Since when did they have wings? Maybe they were ornamental. Maybe they were too small to get a gorgon into the air. Then the two sisters
leaped off the apartment building and soared toward him.
Great. Just great.
"Yes, a choice," June said, as if she were in no hurry. "You could leave me here at the mercy of the gorgons and go to the ocean. You'd make it
there safely, I guarantee. The gorgons will be quite happy to attack me and
let you go. In the sea, no monster would bother you. You could begin a new
life, live to a ripe old age, and escape a great deal of pain and misery that
is in your future."
Percy was pretty sure he wasn't going to like the second option. "Or?"
"Or you could do a good deed for an old lady," she said. "Carry me to
the camp with you."
"Carry you?" Sage hoped she was kidding. Then June hiked up her
skirts and showed him her swollen purple feet.
"I can't get there by myself," she said. "Carry me to camp—across the
highway, through the tunnel, across the river."
Percy didn't know what river she meant, but it didn't sound easy. June
looked pretty heavy.
The gorgons were only fifty yards away now—leisurely gliding toward
him as if they knew the hunt was almost over.
Percy looked at the old lady. "And I'd carry you to this camp because —?"
"Because it's a kindness!" she said. "And if you don't, the gods will
die, the world we know will perish, and everyone from your old life will be
destroyed. Of course, you wouldn't remember them, so I suppose it won't matter. You'd be safe at the bottom of the sea..."
Percy swallowed. The gorgons shrieked with laughter as they soared
in for the kill.
"If I go to the camp," he said, "will I get my memory back?"
"Eventually," June said. "But be warned, you will sacrifice much! You'll
lose the mark of Achilles. You'll feel pain, misery, and loss beyond anything
you've ever known. But you might have a chance to save your old friends
and family, to reclaim your old life."
The gorgons were circling right overhead. They were probably
studying the old woman, trying to figure out who the new player was before
they struck.
"What about those guards at the door?" Sage asked.
June smiled. "Oh, they'll let you in, dear. You can trust those two. So,
what do you say? Will you help a defenseless old woman?"
Percy doubted June was defenseless. At worst, this was a trap. At
best, it was some kind of test.
Percy hated tests. Since he'd lost his memory, his whole life was one
big fill-in-the-blank. He was _, from
_. He felt like _, and if
the monsters caught him, he'd be _.
Then he thought about Annabeth, the only part of his old life he was
sure about. He had to find her.
"I'll carry you." He scooped up the old woman.
She was lighter than he expected. Percy tried to ignore her sour
breath and her calloused hands clinging to his neck. He made it across the
first lane of traffic. A driver honked. Another yelled something that was lost
in the wind. Most just swerved and looked irritated, as if they had to deal
with a lot of ratty teenagers with an angry sidekick carrying old hippie women across the freeway
here in Berkeley.
A shadow fell over him. Stheno called down gleefully, "Clever boy!
Found a goddess to carry, did you?"
A goddess?
June cackled with delight, muttering, "Whoops!" as a car almost killed
them.
Somewhere off to his left, Euryale screamed, "Get them! Two prizes
are better than one!"
Percy bolted across the remaining lanes. Somehow he made it to the median alive. He saw the gorgons swooping down, cars swerving as the monsters passed overhead. He wondered what the mortals saw through
the Mist—giant pelicans? Off-course hang gliders? The wolf Lupa had told
him that mortal minds could believe just about anything—except the truth.
Percy ran for the door in the hillside. June got heavier with every step.
Percy's heart pounded. His ribs ached.
One of the guards yelled. The guy with the bow nocked an arrow.
Sage shouted, "Wait!"
But the boy wasn't aiming at him. The arrow flew over Percy's head. A
gorgon wailed in pain. The second guard readied her spear, gesturing
frantically at Percy to hurry.
Fifty feet from the door. Thirty feet.
"Gotcha!" shrieked Euryale. Percy turned as an arrow thudded into her
forehead. Euryale tumbled into the fast lane. A truck slammed into her and
carried her backward a hundred yards, but she just climbed over the cab,
pulled the arrow out of her head, and launched back into the air.
Sage reached the door. "Thanks," he told the guards. "Good shot."
"That should've killed her!" the archer protested.
"Welcome to my world," Percy muttered.
"Frank," the girl said. "Get them inside, quick! Those are gorgons."
"Gorgons?" The archer's voice squeaked. It was hard to tell much
about him under the helmet, but he looked stout like a wrestler, maybe
fourteen or fifteen. "Will the door hold them?"
In Percy's arms, June cackled. "No, no it won't. Onward, Percy
Jackson! Through the tunnel, over the river!"
"Percy Jackson?" The female guard was darker-skinned, with curly
hair sticking out the sides of her helmet. She looked younger than Frank—
maybe thirteen. Her sword scabbard came down almost to her ankle. Still,
she sounded like she was the one in charge. "Okay, you're obviously a
demigod. But who's the—?" She glanced at June. "Never mind. Just get
inside. I'll hold them off."
"Hazel," the boy said. "Don't be crazy."
"Go!" she demanded.
Frank cursed in another language—was that Latin?—and opened the
door. "Come on!"
Percy followed, staggering under the weight of the old lady, who was
definitely getting heavier. He didn't know how that girl Hazel would hold off
the gorgons by herself, but he was too tired to argue.
The tunnel cut through solid rock, about the width and height of a
school hallway. At first, it looked like a typical maintenance tunnel, with
electric cables, warning signs, and fuse boxes on the walls, lightbulbs in
wire cages along the ceiling. As they ran deeper into the hillside, the
cement floor changed to tiled mosaic. The lights changed to reed torches,
which burned but didn't smoke. A few hundred yards ahead, Percy saw a
square of daylight.
The old lady was heavier now than a pile of sandbags. Percy's arms
shook from the strain. June mumbled a song in Latin, like a lullaby, which
didn't help Percy concentrate.
Behind them, the gorgons' voices echoed in the tunnel. Hazel shouted.
Percy was tempted to dump June and runback to help, but then the entire
tunnel shook with the rumble of falling stone. There was a squawking
sound, just like the gorgons had made when Percy had dropped a crate of
bowling balls on them in Napa. He glanced back. The west end of the
tunnel was now filled with dust.
"Shouldn't we check on Hazel?" he asked.
"She'll be okay—I hope," Frank said. "She's good underground. Just
keep moving! We're almost there."
"Almost where?"
June chuckled. "All roads lead there, child. You should know that."
"Detention?" Sage asked.
"Rome, child," the old woman said. "Rome."
Percy wasn't sure he'd heard her right. True, his memory was gone.
His brain hadn't felt right since he had woken up at the Wolf House. But he
was pretty sure Rome wasn't in California.
They kept running. The glow at the end of the tunnel grew brighter, and
finally they burst into sunlight.
Percy froze. Spread out at his feet was a bowl-shaped valley several miles wide. The basin floor was rumpled with smaller hills, golden plains,
and stretches of forest. A small clear rivercut a winding course from a lake
in the center and around the perimeter, like a capital G.
The geography could've been anywhere in northern California—live
oaks and eucalyptus trees, gold hills and blue skies. That big inland mountain—what was it called, Mount Diablo?—rose in the distance, right
where it should be.
But Percy felt like he'd stepped into a secret world. In the center of the
valley, nestled by the lake, was a small city of white marble buildings with
red-tiled roofs. Some had domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments. Others looked like palaces, with golden doors and large
gardens. He could see an open plaza with freestanding columns, fountains,
and statues. A five-story-tall Roman coliseum gleamed in the sun, next to a
long oval arena like a racetrack.
Across the lake to the south, another hill was dotted with even more
impressive buildings—temples, Percy guessed. Several stone bridges
crossed the river as it wound through the valley, and in the north, a long line
of brickwork arches stretched from the hills into the town. Percy thought it
looked like an elevated train track. Then he realized it must be an
aqueduct.
The strangest part of the valley was right below him. About two
hundred yards away, just across the river, was some sort of military
encampment. It was about a quarter mile square, with earthen ramparts on
all four sides, the tops lined with sharpened spikes. Outside the walls ran a
dry moat, also studded with spikes. Wooden watchtowers rose at each
corner, manned by sentries with oversized, mounted crossbows. Purple
banners hung from the towers. A wide gateway opened on the far side of
camp, leading toward the city. A narrower gate stood closed on the
riverbank side. Inside, the fortress bustled with activity: dozens of kids
going to and from barracks, carrying weapons, polishing armor. Percy
heard the clank of hammers at a forge and smelled meat cooking over a
fire.
Something about this place felt very familiar, yet not quite right.
"Camp Jupiter," Frank said. "We'll be safe once—"
Footsteps echoed in the tunnel behind them. Hazel burst into the light.
She was covered with stone dust and breathing hard. She'd lost her
helmet, so her curly brown hair fell around her shoulders. Her armor had
long slash marks in front from the claws of a gorgon. One of the monsters
had tagged her with a 50% off sticker.
"I slowed them down," she said. "But they'll be here any second."
Frank cursed. "We have to get across the river."
June squeezed Percy's neck tighter. "Oh, yes, please. I can't get my
dress wet."
Percy bit his tongue. If this lady was a goddess, she must've been the
goddess of smelly, heavy, useless hippies. But he'd come this far. He'd
better keep lugging her along.
It's a kindness, she'd said. And if you don't, the gods will die, the
world we know will perish, and everyone from your old life will be
destroyed.
If this was a test, he couldn't afford to get an F.
He stumbled a few times as they ran for the river. Frank and Hazel
kept him on his feet.
They reached the riverbank, and Percy stopped to catch his breath.
The current was fast, but the river didn't look deep. Only a stone's throw
across stood the gates of the fort.
"Go, Hazel." Frank nocked two arrows at once. "Escort Percy so the
sentries don't shoot him. It's my turn to hold off the baddies."
Hazel nodded and waded into the stream.
Percy started to follow, but something made him hesitate. Usually he
loved the water, but this river seemed...powerful, and not necessarily
friendly.
"The Little Tiber," said June sympathetically. "It flows with the power of
the original Tiber, river of the empire. This is your last chance to back out,
child. The mark of Achilles is a Greek blessing. You can't retain it if you
cross into Roman territory. The Tiber will wash it away."
Percy was too exhausted to understand all that, but he got the main
point. "If I cross, Iwon't have iron skin anymore?"
June smiled. "So what will it be? Safety, or a future of pain and
possibility?"
Behind him, the gorgons screeched as they flew from the tunnel. Frank
let his arrows fly.
From the middle of the river, Hazel yelled, "Percy, come on!"
Up on the watchtowers, horns blew. The sentries shouted and
swiveled their crossbows toward the gorgons.
Annabeth, Percy thought. He forged into the river. It was icy cold, much
swifter than he'd imagined, but that didn't bother him. New strength surged
through his limbs. His senses tingled like he'd been injected with caffeine.
He reached the other side and put the old woman down as the camp's
gates opened. Dozens of kids in armor poured out.
Hazel turned with a relieved smile. Then she looked over Percy's
shoulder, and her expression changed to horror. "Frank!"
Frank was halfway across the river when the gorgons caught him. They
swooped out of the sky and grabbed him by either arm. He screamed in
pain as their claws dug into his skin.
The sentries yelled, but Percy knew they couldn't get a clear shot.
They'd end up killing Frank. The other kids drew swords and got ready to
charge into the water, but they'd be too late.
There was only one way.
Percy thrust out his hands. An intense tugging sensation filled his gut,
and the Tiber obeyed his will. The river surged. Whirlpools formed on
either side of Frank. Giant watery hands erupted from the stream, copying
Percy's movements. The giant hands grabbed the gorgons, who dropped
Frank in surprise. Then the hands lifted the squawking monsters in a liquid
vise grip.
Percy heard the other kids yelping and backing away, but he stayed
focused on his task. He made a smashing gesture with his fists, and the
giant hands plunged the gorgons into the Tiber. The monsters hit bottom
and broke into dust. Glittering clouds of gorgon essence struggled to re-
form, but the river pulled them apart like a blender. Soon every trace of the
gorgons was swept downstream. The whirlpools vanished, and the current
returned to normal.
Percy stood on the riverbank. His clothes and his skin steamed as if
the Tiber's waters had given him an acid bath. He felt exposed, raw...
vulnerable.
In the middle of the Tiber, Frank stumbled around, looking stunned but
perfectly fine. Hazel waded out and helped him ashore. Only then did Percy
realize how quiet the other kids had become.
Everyone was staring at him. Only the old lady June looked unfazed.
"Well, that was a lovely trip," she said. "Thank you, Percy Jackson, for
bringing me to Camp Jupiter."
One of the girls made a choking sound. "Percy...Jackson?"
She sounded as if she recognized his name. Percy focused on her,
hoping to see a familiar face.
She was obviously a leader. She wore a regal purple cloak over her
armor. Her chest was decorated with medals. She must have been about
Percy's age, with dark, piercing eyes and long black hair. Percy didn't
recognize her, but the girl stared at him as if she'd seen him in her
nightmares.
June laughed with delight. "Oh, yes. You'll have such fun together!"
Then, just because the day hadn't been weird enough already, the old
lady began to glow and change form. She grew until she was a shining,
seven-foot-tall goddess in a blue dress, with a cloak that looked like goat's
skin over her shoulders. Her face was stern and stately. In her hand was a
staff topped with a lotus flower.
If it was possible for the campers to look more stunned, they did. The
girl with the purple cloak knelt. The others followed her lead. One kid got
down so hastily he almost impaled himself on his sword.
Hazel was the first to speak. "Juno."
She and Frank also fell to their knees, leaving Percy and Sage the only ones
standing. He knew he should probably kneel too, but after carrying the old
lady so far, he didn't feel like showing her that much respect. Sage was just standing there looking confused
"Juno, huh?" he said. "If I passed your test, can I have my memory and my life back?"
The goddess smiled. "In time, Percy Jackson, if you succeed here at
camp. You've done well today, which is a good start. Perhaps there's hope
for you yet."
She turned to the other kids. "Romans, I present to you the son of
Neptune. For months he has been slumbering, but now he is awake. His
fate is in your hands. This is the daughter of Mercury. She has a great potential The Feast of Fortune comes quickly, and Death must
be unleashed if you are to stand any hope in the battle. Do not fail me!"
Juno shimmered and disappeared. Percy looked at Hazel and Frank
for some kind of explanation, but they seemed just as confused as he was.
Frank was holding something Percy hadn't noticed before—two small clay
flasks with cork stoppers, like potions, one in each hand. Percy had no
idea where they'd come from, but he saw Frank slip them into his pockets.
Frank gave him a look like: We'll talk about it later.
The girl in the purple cloak stepped forward. She examined Percy
warily, and Percy couldn't shake the feeling that she wanted to run him
through with her dagger.
"So," she said coldly, "a son of Neptune and a daughter of Mercury, who comes to us with the
blessing of Juno."
"Look," he said, "my memory's a little fuzzy. Um, it's gone, actually. Do
I know you?"
The girl hesitated. "I am Reyna, praetor of the Twelfth Legion. And...
no, I don't know you."
That last part was a lie. Percy could tell from her eyes. But he also
understood that if he argued with her about it here, in front of her soldiers,
she wouldn't appreciate it.
"Hazel," said Reyna, "bring him inside. I want to question him at the
principia. Then we'll send him to Octavian. We must consult the auguries
before we decide what to do with them."
"What do you mean," Sage asked, "'decide what to do with' me?"
Reyna's hand tightened on her dagger. Obviously she was not used to
having her orders questioned. "Before we accept anyone into camp, we must interrogate them and read the auguries. Juno said your fate is in our
hands. We have to know whether the goddess has brought us new
recruits..."
Reyna studied Percy and Sage as if she found that doubtful.
"Or," she said more hopefully, "if she's brought us enemys to kill."