When people think of death, they might hate it. They die in accidents. Or, they are stupid and die because they can. Or you see no purpose in life and want to end it. Or they are cocky and stupid and really, really dumb and kill themselves in stunts that have a 99% chance of dying. You get my drift.
When I think of death, I want a not so memorable way. I mean, yeah, dying by the Tartarus, the primordial, may seem nice to some people, but after everything? I want a nice, not painful way of dying. Like peacefully in my sleep because of old age.
This isn't the first time I had to face an enemy I couldn't defeat by force. Like those empousai earlier on. They're an example. And Arachne. When it was like them, it would be my clue to shut Percy up and stall for time with some clever Athena-like chitchat.
Except my voice wouldn't work. I couldn't even close my mouth. For all I knew, I was drooling as badly as Percy did when he slept. (You can say ew if you want. I understand)
I was dimly aware of the army of monsters swirling around us, but after their initial roar of triumph, the horde had fallen silent. We should have been ripped to pieces by now. Instead, the monsters kept their distance, waiting for Tartarus to act.
The God in question flexed his fingers, examining his own polished black talons. He had no expression, but he straightened his shoulders as if he were pleased. He moved like he had all the time in the world. Then again, he does.
It is good to have form, he intoned. With these hands, I can eviscerate you.
I sucked in a breath. His voice sounded like a backward recording—as if the words were being sucked into the vortex of his face rather than projected. In fact, everything seemed to be drawn toward the face of this god—the dim light, the poisonous clouds, the essence of the monsters, even my own fragile life force. I looked around and realised that every object on this vast plain had grown a vaporous comet's tail—all pointing toward Tartarus. He was like the black hole in space.
In these moments, my brain and instincts are conflicted. My brain tells me I should say something, anything really, but my instincts are insisting that I hide, that I should avoid doing absolutely anything that would draw the god's attention.
Besides, my brain was fried. I didn't know what to say. You won't get away with this!
It most certainly wasn't true. Our best bet, Andromeda was hurt because of what he did. Granted, she was already tired from before which might have contributed to her unawareness, but what he did was still powerful enough to stop her. Percy and I had only survived this long because Tartarus was savouring his new form. He wanted the pleasure of physically ripping us to pieces. If Tartarus wished, I had zero doubt he could devour my existence with a single thought, as easily as he'd vaporised Hyperion and Krios. Would there be any rebirth from that? I didn't want to find out.
Next to me, Percy did something I had never seen him do. Something I was still shocked at despite knowing he had every right to do it and I would've done the same in his place. He dropped his sword. It just fell out of his hand and hit the ground with a thud. Death Mist no longer shrouded his face, but he still had the complexion of a corpse.
Tartarus hissed again—possibly laughing.
Your fear smells wonderful, said the god. I see the appeal of having a physical body with so many senses. Perhaps my beloved Gaia is right, wishing to wake from her slumber.
He stretched out his massive purple hand and might have plucked up Percy like a weed, but Bob interrupted.
"Begone!" The Titan levelled his spear at the god. "You have no right to meddle!"
Meddle? Tartarus turned. I am the lord of all creatures of the darkness, puny Iapetus. I can do as I please.
His black cyclone face spun faster. The howling sound was so horrible, I fell to my knees and clutched my ears. Make it stop! Bob stumbled, the wispy comet tail of his life force growing longer as it was sucked toward the face of the god.
Bob roared in defiance. He charged and thrust his spear at Tartarus's chest. Before it could connect, Tartarus swatted Bob aside like he was a pesky insect. The Titan went sprawling.
Why do you not disintegrate? Tartarus mused. You are nothing. You are even weaker than Krios and Hyperion.
"I am Bob," said Bob.
Tartarus hissed. What is that? What is Bob?
"I choose to be more than Iapetus," said the Titan. "You do not control me. I am not like my brothers." He said it with so much confidence, I almost cried.
The collar of his coveralls bulged. Small Bob leaped out. The kitten landed on the ground in front of his master, then arched his back and hissed at the lord of the abyss. As I watched, Small Bob began to grow, his form flickering until the little kitten had become a full-sized, translucent skeletal sabre-toothed tiger. No wonder kittens were born from the sabre-toothed tigers' teeth.
"Also," Bob announced, "I have a good cat."
No-Longer-Small Bob sprang at Tartarus, sinking his claws into Tartarus's thigh. The tiger scrambled up his leg, straight under the god's chain-link skirt. Tartarus stomped and howled, apparently no longer enamoured with having a physical form. Meanwhile, Bob thrust his spear into the god's side, right below his breastplate.
Tartarus roared. He swatted at Bob, but the Titan backed out of reach. Bob thrust out his fingers. His spear yanked itself free of the god's flesh and flew back to Bob's hand, which made me gulp in amazement. I had never imagined a broom could have so many useful features. Small Bob dropped out of Tartarus's skirt. He ran to his master's side, his sabre-toothed fangs dripping with golden ichor.
You will die first, Iapetus, Tartarus decided. Afterward, I will add your soul to my armour, where it will slowly dissolve, over and over, in eternal agony.
Tartarus pounded his fist against his breastplate. Milky faces swirled in the metal, silently screaming to get out.
Bob turned toward us. The Titan grinned, which probably would not have been Annabeth's reaction to a threat of eternal agony.
"Take the Doors," Bob said. "Get Andy out of here. I will deal with Tartarus."
Tartarus threw back his head and bellowed—creating a vacuum so strong that the nearest flying demons were pulled into his vortex face and shredded.
Deal with me? the god mocked. You are only a Titan, a lesser child of Gaia! I will make you suffer for your arrogance. And as for your tiny mortal friends...
Tartarus swept his hand toward the monster army, beckoning them forward.
DESTROY THEM!
Who knew those words were the ones I needed to shock me out of my paralysis? I raised my dagger and yelled, "Percy!"
He snatched up Riptide.
I didn't wait for him, and dove for the chains holding the Doors of Death. With one clean move, my dagger cut through the left-side moorings. Meanwhile, Percy drove back the first wave of monsters. He stabbed an arai and yelped, "Gah! Stupid curses!" Then he scythed down a half dozen telkhines. I lunged behind him and sliced through the chains on the other side.
The Doors shuddered, then opened with a pleasant Ding!
Bob and his sabre-toothed sidekick continued to weave around Tartarus's legs, attacking, and dodging to stay out of his clutches. They didn't seem to be doing much damage, but Tartarus lurched around, obviously not used to fighting in a humanoid body. He swiped and missed, swiped and missed.
More monsters surged toward the Doors. A spear flew past my head. I turned and stabbed an empousa through the gut, then dove for the Doors as they started to close.
I kept them open with my foot as I fought. At least with my back to the elevator car, I didn't have to worry about attacks from behind. Have to be grateful for the little things in life after all.
"Percy, get over here!" I yelled.
He joined her in the doorway, his face dripping with sweat, and blood from several cuts.
"You okay?" I asked worriedly.
He nodded. "Got some kind of pain curse from that arai." He hacked a gryphon out of the air. "Hurts, but it won't kill me. But Sephie…" we looked in her direction. She was huddled in a ball, her back facing us. I could see how bad the burns were and I winced, surprised she hasn't collapsed yet. Chaos and her years of torture must be helping. However, she was so absorbed in healing, she couldn't see the hordes of monsters after her.
An entire phalanx of Cyclopes charged forward, knocking smaller monsters out of the way. Great. Can I rewrite my itinerary? I didn't add some other stuff in my first draft. "It had to be Cyclopes," I grumbled.
Percy gave a battle cry. At the Cyclopes' feet, a red vein in the ground burst open, spraying the monsters with liquid fire from the Phlegethon. The firewater might have healed mortals, but it didn't do the Cyclopes any favours. They combusted in a tidal wave of heat. The burst vein sealed itself, but nothing remained of the monsters except a row of scorch marks.
"Sephie!" I turned in horror. The first few monsters were only a metre away. We wouldn't make it on time and I doubt she was alright. Even a blind man would see she wasn't alright. Just then, we forget one thing. We weren't out of Tartarus yet. A flash of black appeared, and half of the monsters were gone with hellhounds in their place. One of the few I recognised nudged Andromeda who was still unresponsive and howled in the air like a werewolf before they turned and started attacking the other monsters. I heaved a sigh of relief, turning back to Percy.
""Percy, Andromeda will be fine. Focus on yourself first!" After seeing what I saw, Percy calmed down, and fully focused on the fight in front of him. "Duck!"
He didn't ask why. He crouched, and I vaulted over him, bringing my knife down on the head of a heavily tattooed ogre.
Percy and I stood shoulder to shoulder in the doorway, waiting for the next wave. The exploding vein had given the monsters pause, but it wouldn't be long before they remembered: Hey, wait, there's seventy-five gazillion of us, and only two of them.
The Doors of Death stood right behind us—our exit from this nightmarish world. But we couldn't use the Doors without someone manning the controls for twelve long minutes, and we still needed Andromeda. Percy will never forgive himself if we left her, and neither will I so that is 100 percent off the table. If we stepped inside and let the Doors close without someone holding the button, I didn't think the results would be healthy. And if we stepped away from the Doors for any reason, I imagined the elevator would close and disappear without us. That was even worse.
The situation was so pathetically sad, it was almost funny.
The crowd of monsters inched forward, snarling and gathering their courage.
Meanwhile, Bob's attacks were getting slower. Tartarus was learning to control his new body. Saber-toothed Small Bob lunged at the god, but Tartarus smacked the cat sideways. Bob charged, bellowing with rage, but Tartarus grabbed his spear and yanked it out of his hands. He kicked Bob downhill, knocking over a row of telkhines like sea mammal bowling pins.
YIELD! Tartarus thundered.
"I will not," Bob said. "You are not my master."
Die in defiance, then, said the god of the pit. You Titans are nothing to me. My children the giants were always better, stronger, and more vicious. They will make the upper world as dark as my realm!
Tartarus snapped the spear in half. Bob wailed in agony. Saber-toothed Small Bob leaped to his aid, snarling at Tartarus and baring his fangs. The Titan struggled to rise, but I knew it was over. Even the monsters turned to watch, as if sensing that their master Tartarus was about to take the spotlight. The death of a Titan was worth seeing.
Percy gripped my hand. "Stay here. I've got to help him."
"Percy, you can't," I croaked, hating to break his hope. "Tartarus can't be fought. Not by us."
I knew I was right and deep down, so did Percy. Tartarus was in a class by himself. He was more powerful than the gods or Titans. Demigods were nothing to him. If Percy charged to help Bob, he would get squashed like an ant.
But I also knew that Percy wouldn't listen. He couldn't leave Bob to die alone. That just wasn't him—and that was one of the many reasons I love him, even if he was an Olympian-sized pain in the podex.
"We'll go together." I decided. If there was anything worse than seeing Percy die, it was that I wouldn't be with him at the last moment.
This would be our final battle. If we stepped away from the Doors, we would never leave Tartarus. At least we would die fighting side by side.
I was about to say: Now.
Two things happened then. All the hellhounds howled at the same time. A geyser of fire exploded right in the middle of Tartarus's heart, sparks flying out, burning anything in its path. The monsters all fled in panic. Those who didn't instantly perished. When the geyser ceased, nothing remained. Even its remains were disintegrated. Its source was found as Andromeda got up on shaking legs, surrounded by dozens of hellhounds. She looked so right like that. So at peace. She smirked, crossing her arms. I was relieved to see the burnt marks looked more or less all healed though we needed to get her some ambrosia soon. "Come, Tartarus." She crooned. "You wanna play fire with fire?"
The second thing: a ripple of alarm passed through the army. In the distance, I heard shrieks, screams, and a persistent boom, boom, boom that was too fast to be the heartbeat in the ground—more like something large and heavy, running at full speed. An Earthborn spun into the air as if he'd been tossed. A plume of bright- green gas billowed across the top of the monstrous horde like the spray from a poison riot hose. Everything in its path dissolved.
Across the swath of sizzling, newly empty ground, I saw the cause of the commotion. I started to grin. Andromeda inclined her head, not even surprised.
The Maeonian drakon spread its frilled collar and hissed, its poison breath filling the battlefield with the smell of pine and ginger. It shifted its hundred-foot-long body, flicking its dappled green tail and wiping out a battalion of ogres.
Riding on its back was a red-skinned giant with flowers in his rust-coloured braids, a jerkin of green leather, and a drakon-rib lance in his hand.
"Right on time, my friend." Andromeda said. Damasen gave her a smile. "Andromeda Jackson. Nice to know you had faith in me."
"I wasn't the only one in need of changing my fate." She said, "Now, shall we?"
What is this? The god of the pit hissed. Why have you come, my disgraced son?
Damasen glanced at me, a clear message in his eyes: Go. Now.
He turned toward Tartarus. The Maeonian drakon stamped its feet and snarled.
"Father, you wished for a more worthy opponent?" Damasen asked calmly. "I am one of the giants you are so proud of. You wished me to be more warlike? Perhaps I will start by destroying you!"
Damasen levelled his lance and charged.
The monstrous army swarmed him, but the Maeonian drakon flattened everything in its path, sweeping its tail and spraying poison while Damasen jabbed at Tartarus, forcing the god to retreat like a cornered lion.
Andromeda flung her hands out, and just like before in Akhlys's cave, geysers of lava spurted out, destroying hundreds of monsters in a go.
Her mouth moved but I couldn't hear her. The hellhounds around her scattered, leaving one last one, the one with the different eyes. It bared its teeth, shifting to a menacing position, ready to strike at anyone who would hurt its 'mistress'.
In minutes, half of the monsters were more or less gone or in panic. The rest were uneasily trying to flee, but Damasen and Andromeda didn't give them the chance.
Bob stumbled away from the battle, his sabre-toothed cat at his side. Percy gave them as much cover as he could—causing blood vessels in the ground to burst one after the other. Some monsters were vaporised in Styx water. Others got a Cocytus shower and collapsed, weeping hopelessly. Others were doused with liquid Lethe and stared blankly around them, no longer sure where they were or even who they were. They were all soon swept away as Andromeda aimed her powers at them. Only golden dust was left in her wake. Suddenly, seeing her clothes baked in golden dust, like the first time we met, didn't seem so strange anymore.
Bob limped to the Doors. Golden ichor flowed from the wounds on his arms and chest. His janitor's outfit hung in tatters. His posture was twisted and hunched, as if Tartarus's breaking the spear had broken something inside him. Despite all that, he was grinning, his silver eyes bright with satisfaction.
"Go," he ordered. "I will hold the button."
Percy gawked at him. "Bob, you're in no condition—"
"Percy." I interrupted him. My voice threatened to break and I had to clear my throat before continuing. I didn't want to do this, but it was the only way if we wanted to survive. Sacrifice is required. Andromeda had said. She knew this would happen before we did. "We have to."
"We can't just leave them!"
"You must, friend." Bob clapped Percy on the arm, nearly knocking him over. "I can still press a button. And I have a good cat to guard me."
Small Bob the sabre-toothed tiger growled in agreement.
"Besides," Bob said, "it is your destiny to return to the world. Put an end to this madness of Gaia."
A screaming Cyclops, sizzling from poison spray and his leg of fire, sailed over our heads.
Fifty yards away from us, the Maeonian dragon trampled through the monsters, its feet making sickening squish squish noises as if stomping grapes. On its back, Damasen yelled insults and jabbed at the god of the pit, taunting Tartarus farther away from the Doors.
Tartarus lumbered after him, his iron boots making craters in the ground. You cannot kill me! he bellowed. I am the pit itself. You might as well try to
kill the earth. Gaia and I—we are eternal. We own you, flesh and spirit!
He brought down his massive fist, but Damasen sidestepped, impaling his
javelin in the side of Tartarus's neck.
Tartarus growled, apparently more annoyed than hurt. He turned his swirling vacuum face toward the giant, but Damasen got out of the way in time. A dozen monsters were sucked into the vortex and disintegrated.
Andromeda, behind him, narrowed her eyes, and used the wind to send even more monsters in the vortex's way.
"Bob, don't!" Percy said, his eyes pleading. "He'll destroy you permanently. No coming back. No regeneration."
Bob shrugged. "Who knows what will be? You must go now. Tartarus is right about one thing. We cannot defeat him. We can only buy you time."
The Doors tried to close on my foot. I winced.
"Twelve minutes," said the Titan. "I can give you that."
"Percy... hold the Doors." I jumped and threw my arms around the Titan's neck. I kissed his cheek, my eyes so full of tears, I couldn't see straight. Bob's stubbly face smelled of cleaning supplies—fresh lemony furniture polish and Murphy Oil wood soap.
"Monsters are eternal," I told him, trying to keep myself from sobbing. I got the feeling that if I started, I won't stop. "We will remember you and Damasen as heroes, as the best Titan and the best giant. We'll tell our children. We'll keep the story alive. Someday, you will regenerate."
Bob ruffled my hair. Smile lines crinkled around his eyes. "That is good. Until then, my friends, tell the sun and the stars hello for me. And be strong. This may not be the last sacrifice you must make to stop Gaia."
He pushed me away gently. "No more time. Go."
"Sephie! We need to go!" Percy yelled as I grabbed his arm. Andromeda turned to us, conflict clear in not only her eyes but in her movements. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to continue destroying them, to have revenge against all those who had wronged her, who had tortured her. The chance was presented to her. She could be the one to make them scream this time. Then, she froze. Just plain out froze. The hellhound nudged her, but she didn't move.
"Andromeda?" I called out uncertainly. Shadows appeared from the ground, covering her. When they receded, she was gone.
"Sephie!" Percy called, almost hysterically.
A voice entered my head. You've done well. The man said, almost in amusement. Finish the last part of the journey, and take care of my champion, won't you?
Andromeda suddenly reappeared, her eyes closed. She would've crumpled to the ground if not for Bob who caught her in time. I almost thought the voice in my head was a sign of me going crazy if not for the very obvious change of clothings. Her burnt clothes were gone, in its place was a long sleeve, white flannel shirt and long, black jeans. Peeking out at the neck of her shirt, were white bandages. I would say they were unsuited for fighting, but nothing could hold her down. Percy broke free of my grasp, holding his twin sister by her knees and shoulder, carrying her bridal style. I got hold of Percy's arm again, and pulled him into the elevator car. He didn't put up a fight again, too concerned about his sister.
I turned around, and had one last glimpse of the Maeonian drakon shaking an ogre like a sock puppet, Damasen jabbing at Tartarus's legs.
The god of the pit pointed at the Doors of Death and yelled: Monsters, stop them!
Small Bob the sabre-toothed crouched and snarled, ready for action.
Bob winked at me. "Hold the Doors closed on your side," he said. "They will resist your passage. Hold them—"
The panels slid shut.
