...and they're back. Cerulean edited this for me, woohoo and thank you. Uploading this and the next three instalments separately because although individually they're short, together they were too long and I liked the way it split up.

Morris

Morris was nervous, and she didn't know why.

Things had been going well; she had been making friends, killing monsters and nearly dying on a regular basis now for several months. Nico had shadow-travelled with her to and from Europe several times to see Anne-Marie, who was pleased her daughter was finally making friends who weren't fish.

Oh, and Annabeth had made Percy and Morris watch Finding Nemo, so the concept of fish as friends made Morris smile every time she considered it.

So all in all, things were going well.

Until the day Nico nearly drowned.

It was a stormy afternoon in the English Channel, which they had reached by mistake while tracking a gryphon. The gryphon had scooped them up—one in each claw—and barrelled through grey clouds to France. Until Nico had stabbed it in the podex. Then it had screeched louder than the fog horns of the ships far below, dropped the demigods and continued to the Continent. Unfortunately, Morris had been so shocked by the sudden fall that she only had time to warp the water as they hit it, which was like being punched in the face by an automaton (and she should know).

Morris' vision blacked out for a moment as she channelled all her energy towards moulding the waves into a protective blanket. She vaguely remembered hearing that the English Channel was the busiest seaway in the world, and underwater she could hear the humming of tankers, trawlers and tourist ferries. Sea god senses ensured she could hear perfectly and the noise was disorientating; as she thrashed about in the water trying to get her bearings, she spared a thought for the sea life. If she had to live down here, she decided, she would stockpile migraine medicine.

When her head broke the surface and she could tread water, she scanned the rainy horizon for the closest landmark, knowing that in such a busy area and cold temperatures she and Nico didn't have long before they were in trouble.

Nico.

In her confusion she had forgotten to wrap him in an air bubble. The manipulated waves had cushioned his fall, sure, but now he was face-down and unmoving.

Morris swore loudly and immediately pulled him under the surface into an air pocket. He was unconscious, his sword loose in his limp hand.

"Nico! Wake up!" Morris shook him, wishing she had paid attention to mortals' lessons about drowning. She had never bothered to listen properly.

Right. Think, Morris. Chances were that his lungs were full of water. So she had to remove the water… ew. Concentrating hard—the noise from the boats really was annoying—Morris manoeuvred Nico onto his side and pulled the water from his lungs until he coughed it all out. Gross.

"Are you okay?" Morris demanded, gingerly moving him upright. He was staring at a space behind her, eyes glassy.

"Boat," Nico rasped.

"Yeah, we should probably find one and hitch a lift home."

"No. Boat."

Nico grasped Morris around her waist and pulled them to one side and Morris understood what was happening almost too late. The thunderous roar of a foghorn sounded above them as the engine noise of a boat reached deafening proportions. Sending a prayer to Oceanus, Morris used a current to buffet their air pocket several feet through the waves. Less than a second after they had moved, the prow of an oil tanker cut through the water where they had just been floating. Her world rocked as Morris struggled to keep the air pouch secure; streams of tiny bubbles cascaded around them as the tanker continued on its journey, its inhabitants completely unaware that they had almost impaled a couple of demigods. Some figurehead.

Morris' heart was beating so fast that it took a minute for her to recover her composure. She and Nico were still clinging to each other, breathing hard.

"We should find a boat before the oxygen runs out," puffed Nico. "I need to rest before I shadow-travel us home."

"Mm-hm." Morris was still processing the shock of nearly killing her best friend. If she returned home and the other demigods learnt that she let somebody drown, she would have her licence revoked. Plus, this was Nico. She was only allowed to try to kill him when he pissed her off. Gradually, as her breathing returned to normal and the world stopped spinning, Morris realized that she didn't actually want to let go of Nico's waist.

Damnit. Things had been going so well.