Chapter 33

A Bay Rejects Us

Seattle disappointed me.

After everything I'd heard I expected the place to be a 24/7 rainstorm, which suited me great seeing as I was basically a human wetsuit.

Instead the sky was cloudy when we disembarked the Coast Starlight train, but without a drop in sight. No sun, no rain. The worst of both worlds.

Emmitt and I had filled the others in on the way about the dining car debacle, everything from our mysterious pursuer to the gem-obsessed Satyrs vaporizing themselves. I made sure to focus on Emo Kid's escape, but the others didn't seem to think much of it.

"You already beat him once," Bianca pointed out, shrugging. "If he shows up again, just beat him again."

The conversation had basically ended there, although I thought she was missing the point. It didn't take an amazing swordsman to catch you off guard.

We'd definitely bought ourselves time, though. No matter how he got away, there was no way the kid could chase us so fast. For now, we needed to stay ahead. The first step: getting off this outdoor platform.

"Where to next?" I asked as the throng of commuters rushed around us.

Prometheus smiled. Despite – or maybe because of – his intercom warning, his spirits had been nothing but high the rest of the trip. "Somewhere quite comfortable for you, I'd imagine. The quickest way North is by ferry, and Seattle's harbor has no lack of those."

We didn't even need to take a cab. King Street Station and Colman dock were just a fifteen-minute walk apart.

Despite the weather, I found myself enjoying the day. Barges loaded with colorful shipping containers sat docked to our left, bobbing on an arm of the Puget Sound. On our right, the outskirts of downtown came in the form of four-story buildings and hectic one-way streets. A homeless guy on the corner was trying to convince his labrador to shake hands for spare change from tourists. A group of punks were hanging out on the steps of a hotel right underneath a 'No Loitering' sign, punching each other's sides and giggling like dumb teenagers should.

But none of that was what was putting me in a good mood. Or I guess I should say, all of it was. Just from the atmosphere, you could tell we were in the city. It might not have been humid and the people might've said "Dude!" more, but strolling the streets took me back to Manhattan. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it.

"Nice to be in a city," Bianca mumbled.

"You grew up in one too?" I asked

"Hm? Ah, yeah." She'd changed into cargo pants and a t-shirt, wearing her windbreaker unzipped despite the wind blowing off the water. "D.C. Only for a couple of years, though. I went back to visit last summer, not long before I got grabbed."

Emmitt stuck his head in between us. "I'm glad you guys are having fun, but can we walk a little faster? Please?"

"Something wrong?" I asked.

He shivered. "It's just… the trees."

He pointed to a spindly tree built into the sidewalk. The metal fenceposts around the trunk were rusted and weather-bitten. I hoped it wasn't there for shade, because that seemed silly in the Pacific Northwest, and because it had no leaves, only spindly branches.

"They're screaming," Emmitt said. "I think someone peed on this one. And that birch on the last block? It was so carved up, there was barely any bark left!"

All I could hear was a cabbie laying on his horn. "Emmitt, you can talk to trees?"

It took him a second to hear me, busy giving the pee tree commiserating looks. When my words sunk in, he blushed.

"It's not that great," he said. "Most of the time all I can get are feelings. Like, I can tell when a plant's happy or upset. If they're in pain, that's when they get loud. But only really old ones can actually talk to me."

Bianca asked, "Trees feel pain?"

Emmitt looked offended. "Of course they do!"

"You may be surprised," Prometheus said, "at how many things are alive. A plant does not need a dryad to feel the world. That they fail to recognize consciousness different from our own as consciousness at all, is a fault mortals make often. Ah, but would you look at that! We're here."

—

Maybe I was slacking as a son of the Sea God, because Colman Dock showed me just how little I knew about ferries.

I'd pictured something quaint. Maybe a building about the size of Sacramento Valley Station, but with a little boarding area and some cute boats. I mean, when someone says ferry, what do you imagine? A two-story boat with a cockpit and viewing deck, and indoor seating for when it gets windy. This was not that.

My first view of our ride was from the sidewalk– it was that big. Four stories at least, with a ramp for cars to drive up and a cabin wide enough to host a concert. A smokestack churned dark fog into the air. Dozens of antennas and sensors along the roof fed the captain all the statistics he could ever need. About the only thing I got right was the viewing deck– I could see one, set aside right near the prow, wide enough to park a dump truck.

Inside was just as official. The ones boarding on foot like us were funneled through security lines almost as strict as an airport. I put Aelia in a box just to be safe, and passed through without a beep. Bianca sent the leather case carrying her bow through the x-ray machine like it was a laptop.

When the security officer checking bags saw his screen he jumped, but Prometheus cleared his throat and the guy settled right back down, his eyes unfocused.

"Cool trick," I said.

"It does have its uses," Prometheus admitted. "You would not believe the number of Ted Talks I have attended for free."

"Who's Ted? And what's he talking about?"

Prometheus shook his head. "The demigod's only fault– so uncultured, the lot of you."

After the others joined us, we all took a bathroom break before we lined up at our gate. Emmitt got some stares. His clothes, along with his toothbrush, money, books, deodorant, and shampoo had gone the way of the luggage car they were stored in– up in smoke. He'd bought a cheap toothbrush on the train and borrowed spare clothes from me, but you could tell the sleeves of his t-shirt were too long. His hair was oily and flat. People gave him a little extra space.

With ten minutes to boarding and nothing else to do, I looked at the people around us. Most of them seemed like tourists, checking their maps and planning for days out on the other end. An old couple with expensive-looking cameras were arguing if the light would be good for landscape shots. A couple of places ahead of us in line an eight-year-old was telling his dad the details of his pokemon save, clicking buttons on a portable Nintendo Switch.

"I have to watch out for thunderbolt," the kid said. "It's times four effective. Water types always lose to electric types."

"I could take an electric type," I mumbled.

Bianca looked away from the vending machine energy bar she was scarfing down. "What?"

"Nevermind."

Our seats were almost at the very front, close to where the prow narrowed into a point. We could see onto the outdoor viewing space. It was supposed to be empty until the ferry was cast off, but the Pokemon kid and his dad convinced a worker to let them outside early for the best view.

The window was good enough for us. I could see downtown from where we were docked, immense office buildings and, north of the cluster, the spear-like Space Needle stabbing the clouds. I leaned back in my seat, listening to the slosh of the waves and the squawk of gulls. We weren't here to sightsee, but a little bit of relaxation didn't hurt.

The boat pulled away from the dock. And things got weird.

I bent over. My stomach swirled into a mess, the breakfast sandwich I ate on the train mixing with the dinner before it and threatening to make a reappearance on the floor. The world was swimming. The chatter from other passengers sounded loud and quiet at the same time.

"No way." It felt like Bianca's voice was coming from miles away, even though she was sitting right next to me. "You get seasick?"

"Not that!" I gasped. "Something's happening."

And then, as quick as the feeling swept over me, I was fine. I sat up. The boat was whirring away from shore. The retired couple were snapping photos of downtown. At the front of the boat, the grade-schooler was still being helped up by his dead, peering down at the water.

"False alarm?" I wondered out loud.

The little kid giggled. "Daddy, Gyarados used whirlpool!"

The ship banked 45 degrees.

Bianca and I slid from our seats and smashed cheek-first into the window, which proved strong enough to hold our weight, along with the weights of the passengers in front of and behind us. Since it was about the only place I could look, I got a real good view down at the water. Whirlpools and white-capped waves had turned the previously peaceful bay into something like the open ocean during a typhoon. Water thundered against the hull. Suction pulled the boat forward and down. We spiraled around the largest whirlpool like a rubber duck going down the drain.

Then the captain yanked the helm, and the ferry turned sharply right.

Good news first. We broke out of the whirlpool, bouncing into (mildly) calmer waters. Now the bad. The boat recoiled, going from leaning right to pitching left, hurling passengers like rag dolls in a play set.

We would've fallen clear across the room, but I managed to get Anthea out and stab the spear into the floor, hanging on for dear life. Bianca grabbed my ankle. Nobody else was so lucky. I could hear cars skidding in the hold underneath us. Passengers slid across the floor and landed in a groaning pile against the opposite wall.

"What the hell is going on!" Bianca shouted.

"I don't know!" I said. "But I'm going to try and stop it! Hang on!"

I tried to calm the water underneath us.

It was half-ocean, half-freshwater. I should've been in my element. But as soon as my senses touched the water, it reared back. I got the feeling it was angry. The nausea made a comeback.

I was so busy balancing holding on with the urge to hurl that I barely noticed the woman's voice. It was only a whisper, but boy did it make whispering sound angry.

"Son of Poseidon," it hissed, "begone from this place! Learn what your father cannot, and recognize where you are not welcome."

Nobody else could hear her. Or they just had more important things to worry about. "Who are you? How are you doing this?"

"Begone!"

Another whirlpool opened, even bigger than the first, right under our boat. Somebody screamed. I don't think it was me.

The voice had disappeared, but I still felt sick. With every rotation of the boat I came closer to spewing. Hint: there were a lot of those.

It was only luck I was looking out the window when the worst happened.

The father and son combo had been stuck at the front of the boat when everything went haywire. Until now they'd gotten by huddling down and gripping the guardrail. But this new mega-whirlpool was too much. Without anything the dad could do his son toppled out from under him, sliding for the edge.

"Dad!" The kid wailed, fingers scrabbling against the polished floor. His eyes got wider and wider. The longer he slid the faster he went until–

He toppled overboard, shrieking as he went.

I squeezed Anthea's shaft. Even if the kid could swim, a Gold Medalist would drown in water that violent. With about three seconds before impact, I threw everything I had into controlling the waves.

I focused completely on one little section of the bay. When the uneasiness hit, I shoved it aside. That wasn't important right now. I could do this.

At some point I'd closed my eyes. It made focusing easier. But now I was scared to open them, worried what I might find. Slowly, tentatively, I cracked them open.

The dad was still plastered to the guardrail, staring over the edge with worried eyes that were panning up, and up, and up–

A tendril of water fired into sight, like a serpent the size of a grain silo. Balancing on top of it, submerged to his knees, was the kid.

"Gyarados used Surf!" he shouted, wind blowing his blond hair in every direction. "It was super effective!"

I directed the water to set him down on the deck. He was so excited he forgot to hold onto something, and almost fell overboard a second time before his dad grabbed him. I couldn't watch any longer. As happy as I was the kid wasn't dead, the ship was still going down.

I might be fine if we sunk, but what about my friends? The strangers whose only mistake was getting on the same boat as us? I wouldn't let it happen. The water would clear.

It wasn't easy. Fighting for control felt like wading through waist-deep muck. Every inch of progress was as hard-won as a six-minute mile.

But it was happening. The whirlpool fragmented into smaller ones, which in turn broke down into ripples. The waves hit progressively lower down the hull. The boat's rocking, before violent and unpredictable, settled to a subtle sway.

Bianca clawed her way up. "You couldn't have done that sooner?"

I rolled onto my back, looking up with half-lidded eyes. "I didn't see you helping."

"But this is supposed to be your redeeming feature. If you don't have this, what do you have?"

I winced, swallowing hard. "Shut up," I said, "or I'll vomit on your shoes."

On the other side of the boat, the pile of bodies was disentangling themselves. Prometheus was one of the last to come up, rolling out from under an obese tourist in a straining XXL Puget Sounds Good t-shirt.

"How exhilarating," he said when he'd walked across to us. "I always enjoyed roller coasters. Ones you don't know the ending to are a special treat."

I used Anthea like a celestial bronze walking stick to pull myself up. "Sorry if I don't feel like going for a second ride."

"We should probably get out of here, then," Bianca said.

She was staring out the window, toward where dark clouds had gathered about a hundred feet further out than us. They seemed impatient. Angry. For a second, I thought I could see a face in the swirling storm– a woman's, with a neck made of rainclouds and puffy eyes fixed on our boat. Watching to see if we'd come any further, I guess. Or waiting for us to let down our guard.

"I second that," I said, aware of the irony in what I was about to say. "I'm ready to have ground under my feet. Where's Emmitt?"

"I have not seen him," Prometheus admitted. "Perhaps he's already on deck?"

But Bianca pointed to the other side of the room, where the titan had risen from. Squashed down, pretty close to a pancake, lay Emmitt. When I came closer and hauled him up, he was still moaning about overweight tourists and too-heavy titans.

—-

The captain had similar ideas to us, at least in getting back to shore. In minutes the ferry was reattached to the pier, families rushing to disembark. We were some of the last, but by the time we'd regrouped at a bench with a view of the dock, the ominous clouds were gone. If we tried to board the next ferry, I didn't doubt for a second they would be back in full force.

"So… What do we do now?" I looked at the others. "I mean, that could've gone better."

Bianca snorted. "You don't say."

"Hey!" Emmitt said. "We got, like, eighty feet before stopping. That's something."

"And now we're right back where we started. That is nothing."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Alright. Any ideas, Prometheus?"

I don't know how he'd done it without me noticing, but the titan had his crosswords back out, scribbling away. He'd even found a fresh scone from somewhere. "We could always venture out on the next ferry. Perhaps our fate will be different."

"You just want another ride," Bianca said. "You don't fool me."

Prometheus smiled. "Guilty. But if you would prefer another course of action, come up with one. Use your inventiveness. Think outside of the box. When faced with a challenge, surmount it, through guile, strength, or wit."

"You mean a test," I said.

"Only if you approach it as such," he countered. "So long as we set out before tomorrow is up, our schedule won't be delayed. Find a path forward. Or make one. Regardless, I will be waiting here."

Bianca didn't wait around to second-guess him. "Fine. Be back later."

Without other choices, Emmitt and I followed her. The three of us picked our way through the crowd, passing shaken-up faces I recognized from our short voyage.

"Are you sure it was smart to just leave like that?" Emmitt asked.

Bianca rolled her eyes. "Didn't you hear him? This is what we're supposed to do."

"But…" Emmitt glanced around like he was worried someone was eavesdropping. "What if we can't figure anything out?"

"We have to," I said. "He might get annoying, but Prometheus is right. Where we're going, we have to be able to rely on ourselves."

Emmitt puffed out his chest, like he thought making himself bigger would give him a better chance of finding something to rely on. "I'll try."

Emergency vehicles had arrived. Ambulances and police cars were parked on the curb, stations set up to bandage bruised passengers and take their reports at the same time. A local news crew was setting up a shot with the ferry building. I wondered what headline they would run. Breaking news: Local storm says "Screw this boat in particular!".

I saw a couple people I recognized. The kid I'd saved was hopping around a policemen, throwing his hands up and bringing them down like spires of water. The cop had a notepad in his hands but didn't think anything he was getting was worth writing down.

We walked further down to get away from the crowds, reaching a little boardwalk. Waterfront Park the sign said, but I didn't see the park part. Wooden walkways ran the perimeter of touristy restaurants and knickknack shops. We grabbed three overpriced ice cream cones and settled around an outdoor table for a strategy session.

"So," I said, "have either of you traveled much?"

Bianca licked a trail of vanilla off the side of her sugar cone. "I went back to D.C. last summer. We were driven there and back, though. Some lawyer charged with checking up on us. I doubt Mrs. Schmeltzer would drop her cases and race over to drive us to Alaska. She probably thinks I'm dead."

Emmitt didn't question that she'd said "we" which I was grateful for. Whether he was being considerate or hadn't noticed, bringing up Bianca's brother would only get her angry at him.

"I've traveled a little," Emmitt said. "Monsters don't really notice me that much." I don't know why he sounded kind of sad. I would've kissed The Fates' toenails for that sort of luck. "We always drove though. Sorry."

"Square one it is then." To make myself feel better, I took a big bite from the top scoop of my rocky road ice cream.

I did have one idea. There was a way we could travel fast, fast enough reach Alaska in less than a day. But The Labyrinth was as dangerous as dangerous got. We had no way to navigate it– hell, we didn't even know if there was an entrance nearby. There had to be a smarter option.

Across the boardwalk, moving like a pack, I spotted the same group of punks I'd seen earlier. Something about their torn leather clothes and spiked jewelry cheered me up a little. It felt familiar, like–

Like Thalia. My good mood turned on its head.

So when I saw one of them swipe a couple of drinks from an outdoor stand while the vendor wasn't looking, I stood up.

"Percy?" Bianca asked.

I made a fist, and one of the pilfered drinks – a bottle of Aquafina – exploded. Controlling water with nothing fighting me for control felt amazing. It was like being able to move my fingers after months stuck in a cast.

The cloud of water spun around the thief until every drop had been absorbed by his clothes and hair. He stood, sputtering, too disoriented to make a getaway. I started toward them.

Bianca grabbed my hand. "Percy! What in the world are you doing?"

I looked back reluctantly. "That guy was stealing. I'm stopping him."

"You already did." The scene had caused enough of a commotion for the vendor to notice the bottles in the teen's arms. He shouted, waving his arms, and a crowd gathered.

"Let it go," Bianca said. "We have other things to worry about, right? I'm not drowning tomorrow because you felt like going on a vigilante spree."

My irritation deflated. I sighed, sitting back down at the table. The punks took off, pushing their way out of the crowd and running off, the shopkeeper shaking his fist behind them. As they passed us, one of them made eye contact with me and nudged another. I hoped they slipped and fell and bruised their tailbones.

We talked until our ice creams were memories, but couldn't come any closer to figuring out what to do. Bianca had it in her head that a seaplane was the way to go.

"Think about it," she said, "we'd be above the water, so no problems there. And as long as we don't fly too high, how is That Guy ever going to know?"

"How high we fly isn't the problem," Emmitt said. "I don't want my feet to leave the ground."

"Scared?" Bianca challenged.

"Yes!" Emmitt said. "I'm not made to go up there."

"Anyway," I added, "remember those storm clouds on the ferry? Whatever hit us today can make more than waves. We don't even know how high we'd have to fly to avoid it. And I don't know about you, but I'm not too hot on hitting that storm trapped in a metal pod hundreds of feet off the ground."

Bianca crossed her arms. "Fine. What are your brilliant ideas?"

Emmitt had his own plan. "Let's find a car. It's perfect! We can travel at our own pace, pick our own route, and best of all we'll be on the ground the entire time. No flying, or sailing, or anything scary."

Bianca snorted. "And who's going to drive?"

"We could find someone?" Emmitt didn't sound so sure himself.

I shook my head. "They'd have to be willing to drop everything for some kids they just met. Unless Bianca has that lawyer on speed dial, I don't see it working out."

"Ah, um, well… it's not like a seaplane makes any more sense!"

"That's just because you aren't thinking about it right," Bianca argued. "It's a little risky–"

"A little!?"

"Alright, alright." I thumped my hands on the table, interrupting the two. "Let's keep it calm. We can't get distracted."

Bianca threw up her hands. "Oh, sorry Mr. I-Must-Catch-All-Thieves. I forgot how good you were at staying on topic."

"Wow." Emmitt stared at her. "That was kinda mean."

"It was supposed to be!"

Seeing Bianca scowling reminded me of something, and I didn't think it was that I saw the sight at least once a day. Something about the way her lips curled, and folds in her cheeks, screamed that I'd seen an expression exactly like it, I just couldn't place where.

"We won't figure anything out sitting here," I decided. "Let's look around. If we have to, we can find a plane service I guess. Or we can go looking for a driver. But we'll keep our eyes open, and if a better option comes up, we'll take it. Sound good?"

Bianca didn't answer, which wasn't a no. Emmitt smiled tentatively. I clapped.

"It's settled, then. Let's see what we can turn up."

(-)