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by corentin.robert23

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Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/FF/M

Fandoms:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick RiordanPercy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types

Relationships:

Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson/Original Female Character(s)Annabeth Chase (Percy Jackson)/Original Female Character(s)Percy Jackson/Original Female Character(s)

Characters:

Original Female Character(s)Original CharactersPercy JacksonAnnabeth Chase (Percy Jackson)Grover UnderwoodDrew TanakaEthan NakamuraLuke CastellanNico di AngeloThalia GraceBianca di AngeloSilena Beauregard

Additional Tags:

PolyamoryPolyfidelitySlow Burn(as slow as og percabeth anyway)naomi is babydrew tanaka & ethan nakamura get the characterization they deservedsilena is the big sister naomi deserves(pats naomi on the head) YOU CAN FIT SO MUCH TRAUMA IN THIS BABY!roman cameos for... reasons

Language:

English

Series:

Part 1 of Flowers for Naomi Next Work

Stats:

Published:2022-02-01Completed:2022-03-23Words:334,445Chapters:114/114Comments:55Kudos:830Bookmarks:198Hits:37,460

this dark night

deadangelo

Summary:

In which an orphan learns she isn't really an orphan, and Naomi must face the fact that she's descended from gods she never thought existed― and that the Fates have big, horrible plans for her.

[Book 1 of 2]

[The Lightning Thief ― The Last Olympian]

[cross-posted on Wattpad]

Chapter 1: Introduction

Chapter Text

When it came to fate, Naomi Murphy had always been a bit of a cynic. She wasn't sure she bought the idea that there was some magical force in the universe that dictated the way her life would go years in advance, and if she did, then she was pretty sure that magical force hated her guts.

Left at an orphanage as a baby and raised by a combination of grumpy nuns and less-than-perfect foster parents for most of her life, Naomi's never had it easy. It could have been worse, of course—she could have been homeless, or dying, or already dead. She was luckier than most, a fact the nuns and foster parents and her own surprisingly optimistic conscience reminded her of constantly. Even when she was bleeding on the floor or crying from another broken bone, she told herself it could have been worse.

But that was before luck took an indefinite leave of absence and Naomi discovered she was the child of a Greek god. That's when she learned—her life would never be easy.

Not by a longshot.

Disclaimer:

The Camp Half-Blood universe & its characters belong to Rick Riordan. I only own my original characters and their contributions to the story.

Note:

Most of the characters in this are aged up a year, which means Naomi, Percy, & Annabeth are all thirteen (going on fourteen) as of The Lightning Thief.

Warning:

This book will contain swearing, references to past child abuse & neglect, war, violence, death, & other mature themes.

Chapter 2: ACT ONE: The Lightning Thief

Chapter Text

"τὸ πεπρωμένον φυγεῖν ἀδύνατον

(it's impossible to escape from what is destined.)"

― unknown

Chapter 3: i. not a troubled kid

Chapter Text

NAOMI MURPHY WAS NOT a troubled kid—at least, not on purpose. She tried hard in school, even though her dyslexia and ADHD diagnoses made things unfairly difficult; she stayed out of people's hair as much as she could, even though they rarely gave her the same courtesy; she very rarely complained about her lot in life, even though it was downright awful.

In everything she did, she tried to avoid trouble as much as possible. But no matter how hard she tried, it always managed to find her.

Especially on field trips.

Squished into a dinky school bus seat with her only two friends wasn't exactly Naomi's idea of a good time, but as they rode to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, she tried to be optimistic about the day ahead.

It was late May, and while it wasn't as warm as Naomi would have liked, it was still better than the bitter winter they had left behind. Despite the freakishly unpredictable weather that had plagued most of the East Coast for the last few months, nature fought back. The May flowers nurtured by April showers were in bloom in every garden and courtyard they passed, the colors a welcome sight in the otherwise wet, dreary city.

The school bus was loud with chatter and obnoxious laughter. Projectiles of all kinds—broken pieces of pencils, crumbled balls of papers, bits of food, someone's retainer (ick)—were flying around. Luckily for Naomi, she was too short for her head to poke out over the top of the bus seat, so she managed to stay out of the way of her rowdy classmates' aerial battles.

Yancy Academy was a private school for troubled kids, full of rich brats who managed to get out of going to juvie by enrolling at Yancy instead. Naomi spent most of her childhood going to public school, but the kids at Yancy were five times worse than any of her elementary school bullies.

Naomi had never fit in with them—unlike the majority of her classmates, she wasn't a rich kid. She had a dime to her name on a good day, which were few and far between. The only reason Naomi was even at Yancy was because of the school's new initiative to offer free tuition to "children in need" (a moniker Naomi hated with a passion).

Of course, it was all a publicity stunt—the school had come under fire in recent years for an embezzlement scandal and more than a few severe instances of bullying. To try to salvage their image, the school board had decided to institute a program where children who normally couldn't afford to enroll at Yancy were offered a spot in the school, free of charge.

Naomi had been one of the oh-so-lucky winners.

So, rather than wasting away in a public school somewhere in Manhattan with the other kids at St. Monica's Orphanage, Naomi spent most of the school year wasting away in a private school somewhere else in Manhattan.

Naomi didn't mean to be ungrateful, but it wasn't fun being known as the poor little orphan who was only at the school because they thought her story sounded good in their newsletters.

Luckily, though, there were two singular bright spots in her life. Bright spots who went by the names Grover and Percy—the only two friends she'd ever made and kept for longer than a month.

As the dinky yellow school bus ambled down the street, Naomi squinted at the worksheet they were supposed to turn in at the end of the field trip. She wasn't sure why she even bothered, since trying to read gave her a headache just sitting in a classroom, and trying to read on a shaky school bus was just asking for a migraine.

She gave up after one more try, folding it up and stuffing it back into her pocket to be forgotten.

She was currently squished between Grover and the window, but she didn't dare complain. She'd had to beat Percy in a game of rock-paper-scissors to get the window-seat.

"I'm going to kill her," Percy mumbled on Grover's other side.

Naomi didn't have to look to know who he was talking about. The entire way into the city, Nancy Bobofit—a freckly redhead with sticky fingers, both figuratively and literally—had been throwing clumps of her peanut butter and ketchup sandwich at the back of Grover's head.

Unfortunately, Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny; he cried when he got frustrated (something Naomi could relate to). He looked a little old for seventh grade, what with the start of a wispy beard on his chin and acne, so Naomi guessed he'd been held back a few grades.

On top of all that, he was disabled, which was apparently the perfect fuel for bullies like Nancy. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs.

"It's okay," Grover told Percy, his tone placating. "I like peanut butter."

"In your hair?" Naomi questioned.

"It's like a hair mask, right?"

Naomi raised an eyebrow as he dodged another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." Percy started to get up, but Grover pulled him back to his seat.

"You're already on probation," Grover reminded him. "You know who'll get blamed if anything bad happens."

Percy scowled, but he knew Grover was right. Besides—Nancy Bobofit was nothing compared to what they were about to get themselves into.

Mr. Brunner—the only teacher at Yancy that didn't treat Naomi like a charity case and, therefore, her favorite—led the museum tour.

Mr. Brunner was a middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair, with thinning hair and a scruffy beard. His frayed tweed jacket always smelled like coffee, and there was almost always a hint of a smile on his face. He'd always reminded Naomi of what she imagined the perfect dad to be—someone smart enough to help with homework but stern enough to not just give you the answers; someone who'd make you hot chocolate if you were having a bad day. He told stories in a way that made Naomi feel like she was in them, wielding Achilles' spear and leading Eurydice out of the Underworld. Naomi looked forward to his class everyday.

As the Latin teacher led the way through the museum, Naomi couldn't help but be awed by all of the stuff in there. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that some of the artifacts had survived two thousand, three thousand years, and they were just there, still somewhat recognizable after centuries of existence.

Naomi gave the fragile pottery and marble statues a wide berth. She could be a little clumsy, and the last thing she wanted was to somehow ruin a priceless work of ancient art.

Mr. Brunner gathered the class around a four-meter-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling them how it was a grave marker—a stele—for a girl about their age. He told them about the carvings on the sides.

Naomi tried to focus on what he was saying, because it was actually interesting, but focusing on one specific thing had never been her strong suit. Everyone around her was talking, gossiping about nonsense or complaining that their feet hurt. Next to her, Percy kept telling them to shut up, but every time he did, the other teacher chaperone—Mrs. Dodds—glared at him like he was a yappy chihuahua that wouldn't stop barking.

Mrs. Dodds had always given Naomi a bad vibe, and it wasn't just because she taught math. She always wore a black leather jacket despite the fact that she was well into her fifties. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right through a classroom full of students.

From her very first day, Mrs. Dodds had decided Nancy Bobofit was the second coming of Christ and Percy and Naomi were children of the devil. If there was something to blame on them, she'd find a way, even if they were all the way across campus from whatever trouble she pinned on them.

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art.

Behind them, Nancy Bobofit said something snarky about the naked guy on the stele, and Percy turned around and said, "Will you shut up?"

Naomi winced at his volume, secondhand embarrassment already setting in.

The whole class laughed, and Mr. Brunner was forced to stop his story.

"Mr. Jackson," he said, "did you have a comment?"

Percy's face flushed red. "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

Percy looked at the carving, and his eyes lit up with relieved recognition. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner said, clearly not satisfied with Percy's answer. "And he did this because...?"

"Well..." Percy took a moment to answer. "Kronos was the king god, and—"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asked.

"Titan," Percy corrected himself. "And... he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" someone complained behind Naomi.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," Percy continued, "and the gods won."

Behind them, Nancy Bobofit mumbled to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Mr. Brunner said, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover muttered.

Percy shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Naomi, Grover, and Percy were just about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

By the time Percy joined Naomi and Grover outside for lunch, Grover was already munching on Naomi's baby carrots (she wasn't a fan of them) and Naomi was two bites into her bland ham and cheese sandwich.

Overhead, a storm was brewing. Naomi pulled her jacket tighter around herself to keep the cold out and continued eating.

Percy sat down next to Naomi on the edge of the fountain she and Grover had claimed, away from the other rowdy kids.

"Detention?" Naomi asked.

"Nah," Percy said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius."

Naomi hummed in agreement. "Clearly I'm the intellectual between the three of us."

Percy scoffed. "Didn't you get a D on our last English essay?"

"The Old Man and the Sea sucked—you can't blame me for not reading it," Naomi grumbled. "If I want a Jesus metaphor I'll watch Narnia."

"You only like Narnia because you think the guy who plays Edmund is cute," Percy teased.

Naomi rolled her eyes, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. "Shut up."

Luckily, Naomi's embarrassment was quickly forgotten. Unluckily, it was because Nancy Bobofit decided to ruin their lunch and dump her food in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at Percy with her crooked teeth.

"Get lost, Bobofit," Naomi said, trying not to let her voice shake. It had a nasty habit of doing that in the worst possible moments.

Nancy laughed. "What're you gonna do, crybaby?" she sneered.

"Leave her alone," Percy said, scowling at Nancy.

Naomi wasn't sure exactly what happened next. Or, rather, she wasn't sure how it happened.

The water in the fountain behind them jumped out of the fountain, as if a spigot had been turned out to face the open air. It was like the water just... reached out and grabbed Nancy, which didn't make any sense.

Grover jumped up off of the edge of the fountain, grabbing Naomi on his way. He looked weirdly pale, his face tense with worry.

"Percy pushed me!" Nancy screamed.

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to them, as if magically summoned by the accusation.

Around them, Naomi heard some of the kids whispering: "Did you see—?"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure her precious Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the gift shop, blah blah, blah, the teacher turned on Percy. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if Percy had just proven her right about something. "Now, honey—"

"I know," Percy grumbled. "A month erasing textbooks."

That wasn't the right thing to say, apparently.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said.

Naomi glared at Percy with a clear you owe me look before saying, "It was me, Mrs. Dodds. I pushed Nancy."

Mrs. Dodds squinted at her, as if trying to see the lie in her eyes. Naomi wasn't a model student by any means—no one at Yancy was—but she figured she was less likely to get in serious trouble than Percy, since she wasn't on probation like he was.

Unfortunately, Naomi's self-sacrifice backfired. "Both of you, follow me."

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. I pushed Nancy."

Naomi was surprised. Grover was terrified of Mrs. Dodds, even more than Naomi was—it meant a lot that he was trying to take the blame for her and Percy.

Mrs. Dodds glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looked at his friends desperately.

"It's okay, man," Percy said. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirked.

Naomi scowled at her before turning back toward Mrs. Dodds, but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the stairs, gesturing impatiently at Naomi and Percy to hurry up.

How'd she get up there so fast?

Naomi heaved a quiet sigh, and the two set off after their teacher.

The math teacher led them deep into the museum, moving faster than Naomi would have thought humanly possible. When she and Percy finally caught up to her, they were back in the Greek and Roman section. The gallery was empty except for them.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making a weird noise in her throat, like she was growling.

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said, her narrowed eyes trained on Percy.

Percy did the smart thing for once and didn't argue. "Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Dodds tugged on the cuffs on her leather. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in Mrs. Dodds eyes was more than just mad. It was like she was plotting Percy's murder, trying think of the best way to make it as brutal as possible.

Naomi inched closer to Percy, watching the math teacher warily. She tried to convince herself Mrs. Dodds wouldn't actually hurt them—she was a teacher, after all. Teachers were supposed to be safe.

Then again, so were foster parents.

"We'll—we'll try harder, ma'am," Naomi said softly, hoping that was what Mrs. Dodds wanted to hear.

Thunder shook the building, and Naomi's hands shook with it.

"We are not fools, children," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

Naomi looked at Percy, wondering if he had some idea of what Mrs. Dodds was talking about. Judging from his confused expression, Naomi figured he was as lost as she was.

"Well?" Mrs. Dodds demanded. "Which one of you stole it?"

"Ma'am, I don't..." Percy's voice trailed off.

"Your time is up," Mrs. Dodds hissed.

Then the strangest thing happened. Her eyes started to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice Naomi and Percy to pieces.

Then things somehow got stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who Naomi was almost positive had been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouted, and tossed the pen in the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at them.

Naomi screamed in fear. Percy tackled her to the side and they both dodged Mrs. Dodds's talons. Percy snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when he caught it, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, the one he always brought out on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun towards Naomi and Percy with a murderous look in her eyes.

"Die, honey!" she snarled.

Then she flew straight at them.

Naomi closed her eyes, not wanting to see when Mrs. Dodds slashed her to death with those wicked-looking claws. She heard a weird sound, like a hiss, then a screech like a dying cat, then something like powder settled on her exposed skin.

Naomi opened her eyes, and the scene before her was something she doubted she'd ever be able to fully understand. Mrs. Dodds was gone, a pile of yellow powder that smelled like sulfur left in her place. Mr. Brunner was gone, too, as if he'd never even been there.

Only Percy remained, with that ballpoint pen in his hand.

"What—?" Naomi asked, looking up at Percy. "What just happened?"

"I—I have no idea," Percy said.

He offered her a trembling hand, helping her to her feet. They both stared at each other for a moment.

"You saw the wings too, right?" Percy asked.

"And the sword?" Naomi said. "Yeah, I saw them."

When they got back outside, it had started to rain.

Grover was sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit was still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her posse.

When she saw Naomi and Percy, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butts."

"Who?" Percy asked.

"Our teacher. Duh!"

Naomi blinked. They didn't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. "What are you talking about?"

Nancy just rolled her eyes at her and turned away.

Percy asked Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

Grover's response was a confused, "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't meet Naomi's or Percy's eyes, so Naomi wondered if he was just messing with them. Grover wasn't really the type of person to pull pranks, but there was a first time for everything, right?

"Not funny, man," Percy told him. "This is serious."

Thunder boomed overhead.

Naomi spotted Mr. Brunner sitting under his umbrella, reading his book, as if he'd never moved.

Percy tugged on Naomi's sleeve and led the way over to the Latin teacher.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

Percy handed it over.

"Sir," Naomi spoke up, her voice only shaking a little. "Where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at her blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds," Naomi said. "The math teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildly concerned. "Miss Murphy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling alright?"

Chapter 4: ii. three old ladies knit socks of death

Chapter Text

THIS TWENTY-FOUR/SEVEN HALLUCINATION was starting to get really old. For the rest of the semester, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on her and Percy. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blonde lady who Naomi was almost positive she'd never seen before in her life—had been their math teacher since Christmas.

But if it was some weird school-wide prank, Grover was seriously bad at keeping up the act. Every time she or Percy mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But Naomi could tell he was lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

Naomi was fairly certain the only reason she hadn't completely lost her mind was because Percy was in the same boat.

She didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and bat wings joined the already extensive library of nightmare-fuel she had in her brain.

The freaky weather continued, which didn't help her mood. Several nights throughout the semester, thunderstorms woke her out of a dead sleep, shaking the dormitory building with a vengeance. The biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events they studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

Percy started acting cranky and irritable most of the time. He never lashed out at Naomi or Grover, but he started getting into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her friends. He was sent out in the hallway in almost every class. When their English teacher, Mr. Nicholl, asked him for the millionth time why Percy hadn't been studying for his spelling tests, he snapped. He called him an old sot—an insult Naomi was kind of disappointed in him for. She could think of about a dozen better insults, but alas.

According to Percy, the headmaster sent his mom a letter the following week, making it official: Percy would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Percy wasn't too devastated by the news, but Naomi had to try hard to hide her own disappointment. She didn't want to think about having to spend another year at Yancy without Percy. She had a hard enough time making friends, and she dreaded the idea of having to try to make more.

As exam week drew closer, Naomi's roommate got more irritating, so she found herself staying at Percy and Grover's room until right before curfew. She tried to study, and in turn help Percy study, but that was like two dogs trying to teach each other how to fly.

Naomi jumped as Percy threw his mythology book at the wall farthest away from her, perched cross-legged on his unmade bed with her messily annotated copy of Holes open on her lap.

As soon as it hit the wall and Percy saw her startled response, his shoulders sagged. "Sorry, Nay," he said, his voice purposefully soft. "I'm not mad at you, I'm just frustrated about this Latin exam."

Naomi dreamed of the day that explanation wouldn't be necessary, when she wouldn't flinch at every sudden noise, but that day wasn't close by any means.

"'S okay," she mumbled, shoving her book off of her lap and drawing her knees up to her chest. She hugged them and rested her chin on the top of her knee before asking, "It's your second exam tomorrow, right?"

Percy nodded.

"I have it first," she said. "I'll try to remember what was on it to give you a leg up."

"If you get caught helping me cheat, you might get kicked out, too," Percy pointed out.

Naomi shrugged. "So?"

Percy stood up from his desk, dropping down onto the bed next to her. "Sorry I'm not coming back next year."

"It's not your fault," Naomi said, even though it kind of was.

"At least you'll still have Grover," Percy said. "And we live close to each other, so we can hang out during the breaks and stuff."

Naomi managed a small smile, but she didn't fully believe him.

She'd been delighted to find out that St. Monica's was only a few blocks from Percy's apartment back in Manhattan, within easy walking distance. Naomi already spent as little time there as she could, but now that she had Percy, she mostly only stayed there at night.

She and Percy had been best friends since the beginning of the school year, when Nancy Bobofit "accidentally" spilled her purple Kool-Aid all over one of the few shirts Naomi had that wasn't worn out, and Percy "accidentally" dropped his bowl of chili all over Nancy's lap in retaliation.

Nothing like getting revenge on a bully to bring two people together.

Still, Naomi feared that they'd drift apart now that Percy wouldn't be going back to Yancy. What if their holidays never lined up? What if Grover didn't even come back to Yancy next year? And if he did, who was to say he wouldn't ditch her for better friends without Percy to glue them together?

"Hey," Percy said, nudging her shoulder with his lightly. "We'll be okay." He offered her an extended pinky. "Promise."

Naomi's smile turned a little more genuine, and she locked her pinky with his.

After a few moments of silence, Percy sighed. "I'm gonna go talk to Mr. Brunner about the exam," he said. "Wanna come? I'll walk you back to your dorm after."

Naomi nodded. "Okay."

She gathered her stuff, then she and Percy were off toward Mr. Brunner's office.

The pair walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were already dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

They were three steps from the door when they heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said, "... worried about Percy and Naomi, sir."

Percy and Naomi both froze.

"... alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing Percy," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. I admit, I hadn't even known about Naomi..."

"Percy may not have time," Grover said. "The summer solstice deadline—"

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let Percy and Naomi enjoy their ignorance while they still can."

"Sir, they saw her..."

"Their imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will have to be enough to convince them of that."

"Sir, I... I can't fail in my duties again." Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. I already messed up—I missed Naomi!"

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen Mrs. Dodds for what she was. As for Naomi... well, it may be a good thing we missed it with her. It may mean she'll have an easier time. Now let's just worry about keeping the two of them alive until next autumn—"

Percy's mythology book dropped out of his hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

Naomi's heart hammered in her chest as Percy picked up his book and backed them down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than their wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archer's bow.

Percy opened the nearest door and pulled Naomi inside after him.

A few seconds later they heard a slow clop-clop-clip, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside the door. A large dark shape paused in front of the glass. Naomi clamped a hand over her mouth.

After a terrifying second, the shape moved on.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn..."

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Don't remind me."

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

Naomi and Percy waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, they slipped out into the hallway. Neither of them said a word as Percy walked her back to her dorm. Naomi wondered if his head was spinning as much as hers.

I missed Naomi, Grover had said. What was that supposed to mean? What had he missed?

And why did Mr. Brunner think missing was a good thing?

On the last day of the term, Naomi, Percy, and Grover rode the same Greyhound to Manhattan.

During the ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. He'd always acted nervous and fidgety when they left Yancy, like he was expecting something bad to happen. Before, Naomi had assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

"Looking for Kindly Ones?" Percy asked.

Naomi looked up in surprise, but Grover's startled jump outdid her easily. "Wha—what do you mean?"

Percy confessed to his and Naomi's eavesdropping on Grover and Mr. Brunner the night before their Latin exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you two hear?"

"Oh... not much. What's the summer-solstice deadline?" Percy asked.

Grover winced. "Look, Percy... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers..."

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and..."

"I saw Mrs. Dodds, too, so try again, Grover," Naomi said, leaning forward to look at him on Percy's other side.

Grover's ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out two grubby business cards. "Just take these, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The cards were in fancy script, which didn't help Naomi's dyslexia, but she managed to make out:

Grover Underwood, Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800)-009-0009

"What's Half—" Percy started to ask.

"Don't say it aloud!" Grover yelped. "That's my, um... summer address."

Naomi tried to conceal her frown. Of course Grover had a summer home. She'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," Percy said. "So, like, if we want to come visit your mansion."

Grover nodded. "Or... or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

It came out harsher than Naomi guessed Percy meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam's apple. "Look, guys, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you."

Naomi and Percy stared at him.

"Grover," Percy said, "what exactly are you protecting us from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under their feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that they'd all have to get off. Naomi, Percy, and Grover filed outside with the rest of the passengers.

They were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On their side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked pretty good: heaping boxes of blood-red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks Naomi had ever seen.

It was clearly a team effort. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandanas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at Percy.

Naomi looked at Grover to see if he'd noticed and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" Percy said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are. Aren't they?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy," Grover said. "Not funny at all."

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors, long-bladed, like shears. Naomi heard Grover catch his breath.

"We're getting on the bus," he said. "Come on."

"What?" Percy said. "It's a thousand degrees in there."

"Come on!" Grover pried the doors open and climbed inside, but Percy and Naomi stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching Percy. The middle one cut the yarn, and Naomi swore she could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving Naomi wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla?

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" the driver yelled, and despite herself, Naomi flinched. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once they got going, Naomi started to feel restless. She had to consciously stop herself from bouncing her legs up and down nervously. She'd always had an abundance of nervous energy, but this was something else. She couldn't stand to sit still.

"Grover?" Percy said.

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling us?"

Grover dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies?" Percy asked.

Grover looked at Naomi. "Did you see them, too?"

"Hard to miss them," Naomi said. "Why? What is it about them? They're not like... Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

Grover's expression was hard to read, but Naomi got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw."

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn," Percy said.

Grover closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord."

"Yeah. So?"

Even with Percy's nonchalant tone, Naomi could tell it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time."

"What last time?" Naomi asked.

"Always seventh grade. They never get past seventh."

"Grover," Percy said. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you two home from the bus station," Grover said. "Promise me."

It seemed like a weird request, but Percy and Naomi promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" Percy asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn," Percy said. "Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

Grover didn't answer, but he looked at Percy mournfully, like he was already brainstorming his best friend's eulogy.

Chapter 5: iii. home (not) sweet home

Chapter Text

NAOMI ONLY FELT a little bad for ditching Grover as soon as they reached the bus terminal.

She doubted any reasonable person would blame her and Percy, though. Grover was freaking them both out, looking at Percy like he was a dead man, muttering, "Why does this always happen?" and, "Why does it always have to be seventh grade?"

When Grover ran to use the restroom, Percy and Naomi grabbed their luggage, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.

"East One Hundred and Fourth and First Avenue," Percy told the driver.

Every time Naomi found herself staring up at the St. Monica's, she found herself missing Yancy. Compared to the cramped building chock full of orphans like her, the cement-enclosed spaces of her boarding school were like open-air gardens.

As much as she hated school in general, she'd much rather be there than at St. Monica's, wondering which of the kids she was living with had a violent streak and how to sneak downstairs without the floor betraying her movement.

Percy had invited her to go with him to his apartment, but Naomi had waved him off, telling him to tell his mother she said hello. Percy dealt with her baggage enough during the school year—he deserved a break from her for once.

Fighting a sigh, Naomi picked up her suitcase and trudged up the stone steps to the front door.

It was as loud and annoying inside of St. Monica's as Naomi remembered from Christmas break. She heard yelling from upstairs—several voices, all of them juvenile, most of them angry—and the sound of running footsteps above her.

"Oh, lookie here." Naomi's hands tightened around her suitcase at the voice. "Her Royal Majesty is back from her fancy boarding school."

Someone shoved her in the back, and she tried to hide her flinch, turning to glare at her longest-lasting bully.

With his stocky build, crooked nose from one too many punches to the face, and eyes that were always cold and cruel, Darren Nichols was a poster child for schoolyard bullies. He'd been at St. Monica's as long as Naomi had, and from the moment he learned to walk, he'd made life hell for everyone around him.

"Leave me alone, Darren," Naomi mumbled, trying to brush past him to the stairs that led up to the girls' quarters.

Of course, living with Darren was never that easy.

"Where're you going, Your Highness?" Darren sneered. "Are we too good for you now that you've got a bunch of prep-school buddies?"

He shoved her again, and the only reason Naomi didn't fall over was because she'd been expecting it. Still, she stumbled back, and Darren's eyes gleamed with malicious delight.

Naomi didn't believe in miracles much anymore, but luckily for her, they still happened from time to time. From the direction of the kitchen, she heard the shrill voice of one of the nuns in charge of the orphanage call, "Darren Nichols, get in here and clean up your mess! I am not your maid!"

Darren scowled, but even he wasn't stupid enough to defy Sister Margaret's call. As he stormed off toward the kitchen, Naomi slipped up the stairs, heading straight for the room she shared with seven other girls.

None of the girls in the room paid her any mind as she set her suitcase on her still-made bed. She felt gross and dirty from the long bus ride, so she grabbed some clean clothes from her suitcase and took a quick, cold shower.

By the time she'd cleaned herself up and changed into overalls and a sweatshirt—St. Monica's was almost always freezing, even in the summertime—she was shivering like a wet dog in a blizzard.

Just as she was putting her dirty clothes in the designated hamper, she heard the click of a tongue from the doorway. "You're gone for five months and you don't think to greet any of us?"

Naomi fought a groan, mustering a polite smile. "Sorry, Sister Agnes."

"You should be sorry," Sister Agnes said. "Down to the kitchen—we're making pies for the bake sale tomorrow, come make yourself useful."

Sister Agnes turned on her heel, heading back to the kitchen, and Naomi had no choice but to follow.

Her afternoon was spent kneading dough and dealing with the younger kids putting their grubby little hands all over her baked goods. The nuns had put them all to work preparing for the bake sale the next morning, and Naomi didn't fancy getting a ruler to her knuckles, so she worked as diligently and quietly as she could, all the while trying to dodge the cherries and apple slices Darren and his cronies aimed at her face.

She wasn't sure how long she spent in the kitchen, only getting a break to eat a quick dinner, but eventually Sister Agnes waved her away, taking the last bit of dough and telling her to go off and stay out of trouble until lights-out.

Naomi debated going upstairs to unpack her suitcase, but she could hear the voices of her roommates up there, giggling and gossiping about who-cares-what, so she decided against it. She ducked into the room for only a second to grab her sneakers and her raincoat, then she ran out of the front door before any of the nuns could catch her.

The rain outside had calmed to a drizzle, and Naomi thanked what or whoever was in charge of the weather in New York as she walked down the street. She didn't have any destination in mind—all she wanted was to get away from St. Monica's for a little while, just until the street lights came on and she'd be able to slip inside and go straight to sleep.

She walked aimlessly for a while, kicking rocks and pieces of trash with her worn-out sneakers. She dreaded having to ask one of the nuns to get her a new pair, but hopefully these would last a little while longer. She couldn't feel the concrete through her soles just yet, so she took that as a good sign.

She knew the neighborhood around St. Monica's like the back of her hand. She'd spent the majority of her childhood sneaking out of the building and exploring. When she was five, she liked to pretend she was a pirate who'd gotten tired of the sea and wanted to try looking for treasure on land for once. When she was seven, she liked to pretend she was running away from St. Monica's, off to a better place where she could have a room that wasn't cramped and a bed that didn't feel like stone underneath her.

She'd actually tried to run, once. Not from St. Monica's, but from a place that was somehow worse. She'd been nine.

She didn't like to think about that house.

Naomi had long since lost interest in playing pretend. It never led to anything besides disappointment when reality came to call.

The sky was just starting to turn orange in the sunset when Naomi noticed footsteps behind her.

For the first minute, Naomi managed to convince herself it was nothing. It was still relatively light outside, and there was still a bit of foot traffic on the streets, so it wasn't immediately strange that there were footsteps behind her.

After the second minute, she decided to be better safe than sorry and started heading back in the direction of the orphanage. The sun was probably only a few minutes from setting completely, so she figured she might as well have started heading home—if that place could even be considered home.

Panic slowly started to creep in as the footsteps followed her across the street. They sounded heavier than the average person, more lumbering. As subtly as she could, Naomi snuck a peek behind her, trying to get a look at whoever was following her.

Her heart skipped a beat at the towering figure about three yards behind her. He was massive, like a football linebacker Darren would be obsessed with. The man had his hood up, obscuring his face, and he was dressed all in black, with a trench coat that reached his shins. His hands were in his jacket pockets, but Naomi had a feeling they'd be as large as her head.

She picked up the pace, counting the streets as she passed them.

Roughly three blocks from St. Monica's, Naomi gained a bit of distance and ducked into an alleyway, hoping to hide until the man passed. The foot traffic had died down, and it was getting steadily darker. The nuns would have a fit when they saw her sneak back in after the street lights had been on for this long, but at that moment, she didn't care what would happen when she got back to St. Monica's—she was just focused on actually getting there.

She hid behind a Dumpster, peeking out from behind it to watch the opening of the alley. She watched the man walk into view and, to her quickly mounting horror, stop halfway past the alley's opening. He paused, as if listening for something. Naomi froze, holding her breath so as to not make a single sound.

It was in vain. The man turned to face the alleyway, his hood falling at the movement. Naomi had to shove her hand against her mouth to stifle her gasp as she took in the man's face. Even in the darkness, she could see it clearly.

He only had one eye.

It was bigger than a normal human eye, right in the center of his forehead. As he stepped into the alley, Naomi saw that it was bloodshot, scanning the dark alley with a scowl.

She was torn between terror and disgust. What was he? He couldn't have been human, not fully.

What human being has one eye in the center of their forehead?

She took shallow, quiet breaths, praying to whatever omnipotent being ruled the universe to make the strange man—creature?—give up and leave her alone. But as it stepped further into the alley, letting out a gruff, short noise like a grunting animal, panic settled deep into her bones.

Through the panic, she tried to consider her options. She'd been stupid to go into an alley in the first place—the only way out was the opening, and the one-eyed man was standing right in front of it, blocking her only exit. She might have been able to run past him, but who knew how fast the guy was? She had no doubt he'd be able to take her if he got close enough—he was huge, and Naomi was scrawny and shorter than most girls her age, so if he got a hand on her, he'd have her.

Her hands shook, and her heart thundered in her chest, remembering the last time a big man had gotten his hands on her.

The one-eyed man took another few steps into the alley, growing closer and closer to Naomi's less-than-impressive hiding spot. Maybe she could take him by surprise and kick him between the legs? It had worked on Darren once, and while it had gotten her the paddle from Sister Agnes, it had made Darren leave her alone for a whole two weeks. Maybe it could save her from the one-eyed man, too.

He drew closer, and Naomi heard him breathing deeply, like a hunting dog on the scent. Was he sniffing her out? Naomi had just taken a shower, and she hadn't used any sort of fancy-smelling body wash—how could the guy smell her from there?

Naomi pushed the thought away. It didn't matter—clearly the guy was some kind of weird, one-eyed, sharp-smelling creature. She wasn't sure what he wanted with her, but she had a feeling it wasn't to say hi or ask for directions to the nearest subway station.

Tears fell from her eyes, blurring her vision for a moment. She fought the urge to sniffle, trying to stay as quiet and motionless as she could as terror coursed through her.

It wasn't fair. She was a kid, for heaven's sake. She didn't deserve to get killed by some freak with one eye.

How would the nuns at St. Monica's react? The other kids? Would they even care? Would they give her a proper funeral, or just bury her in a pauper's grave and call it a day?

It wasn't like there was really anyone to miss her. Maybe Percy would be sad, and maybe Grover, too, but they'd get over it quickly. In a month, probably less, it would be as if Naomi had never existed in the first place.

The man stopped a foot from her hiding spot. She heard a pleased grunt, then a gruff, "Tasty half-blood."

A big, meaty hand snatched her wrist, yanking her out of her hiding spot. She screamed, but there were no pedestrians on the street to hear her. It was a rough neighborhood—the neighbors had probably gotten so used to hearing random screams that they didn't even notice anymore.

"Let go of me!" she yelled, trying in vain to pull her arm out of the creature's grasp. "Help! Someone help!"

"Loud," the man grunted. "Too loud."

Naomi screamed louder.

She'd never been the praying type—whenever the nuns told them to pray, she just let her mind wander, making up stories or just sitting there in silence. She wasn't sure she even believed in God, and if she did, she wasn't sure she liked the guy. After everything she'd gone through, how could she like the all-powerful being who let it happen?

But, as the grunting, one-eyed man held her wrist so tight she thought it was going to break, she found herself reaching out.

I don't want to die. Please, don't let me die.

The man's grip tightened, and she let out another scream as sharp pain raced up and down her arm. She heard the unmistakable sound of a bone—her bone—snapping under the pressure, and more tears poured down her face.

Please.

Apparently, someone up there was listening.

Naomi couldn't really explain what happened next. All she knew was that, one minute, the man was crushing her wrist in his hand, and the next, her arm was free, and she was collapsing to the ground.

Her vision swam as she tried to get to her feet. She heard a sound like a dog, growling and snapping its teeth at something. She heard more grunting, though the sound was pained.

"Bad dog!" she heard the man scold in his gruff, rumbly voice. "Bad dog!"

Naomi blinked against the tears still in her eyes, trying to push herself up with her uninjured arm. A few feet away, she saw a figure in the darkness shaking viciously, growling fiercely.

For the briefest second, she saw a flash of red eyes.

She tried to stumble toward the opening of the alley, but her legs were like jelly, and the pain in her wrist was agonizing and disorienting. She staggered, falling back down to her knees like the first victim in a horror movie.

After what felt like both a lifetime and a single second, the growling stopped. When Naomi looked back to where the man had been, all she saw was a pile of yellow powder.

Just like what Mrs. Dodds had turned into.

Standing above the pile of dust, Naomi could just barely make out something huge and towering, as black as night and three times as big as her cowering form.

The red eyes turned toward her, and a pitiful whimper escaped her throat.

Just when she thought the night couldn't get any stranger, she heard a whine from the beast. She heard a snuffling sound, like a dog, and the creature moved closer to her.

Naomi tried to scramble back, but she couldn't get very far with one of her arms cradled against her chest.

The creature moved closer, whining again.

"Please," she whispered, as if the beast could understand her. "Please don't hurt me."

Another whine. Naomi jumped as she felt a huge, wet dog nose touch her cheek. A second later, a giant tongue licked the entirety of her face, saliva joining the tears and snot already on her face.

Naomi sputtered, reeling back from the creature. "What—?"

The beast barked the lowest, scariest dog bark Naomi had ever heard—which, granted, she'd only heard a few dog barks in person, but still.

When she flinched, the beast lowered its giant head, as if embarrassed. There was a huff, and a quieter whimper, and the beast's nose touched her shoulder.

Then, like a Golden Retriever, the giant dog-beast laid down next to her, peering up at her with its glowing red eyes.

Naomi wasn't sure if it was the shock or just plain stupidity, but she found herself slowly reaching her good hand toward the creature. The beast laid completely still as she touched its fur. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but she was surprised at how soft the beast's fur was against her hand.

She heard a whooshing sound, and she looked forward to see the beast's tail was wagging—so hard a few scraps of cardboard next to the Dumpster flew back.

Naomi swallowed. "You're... friendly?"

The beast barked again, quieter than before. It was almost like it was trying to say, Duh!

Naomi slowly petted the dog's head, her fingers getting lost in the thick fur. She felt something like leather practically buried underneath the fur, and she realized it must have been a collar.

It was hard to make out in the low light of the alleyway, but Naomi squinted at the bronze name tag attached to the collar.

Σκιά.

The letters were strange, but Naomi's brain translated the word in seconds.

"Skia..." she said. "Your name's Skia?"

The beast's entire body seemed to shake as she wagged her tail. She let out another soft bark like an affirmative.

"You... you just saved my life," Naomi whispered, looking back toward the pile of yellow dust that had been the one-eyed man. "Thank you."

Skia barked again, standing back up. Naomi's hand fell away from her fur as the beast nudged her shoulder.

Carefully, Naomi pulled herself to her feet, using Skia's huge head as leverage. When she was on her feet, Skia nudged her stomach, just below where she cradled her broken arm to her chest.

Naomi used her sleeve to wipe her face. "I have to get back to St. Monica's," she said, mostly to herself. "The nuns are going to kill me."

Skia barked, nudging her stomach again. She lowered herself until she was half-laying on the ground.

"What?" Naomi asked, as if the beast could give her an answer she would understand.

Skia barked again. She gestured with her giant head to her own back.

"Do you... do you want me to get on your back?" Naomi asked, frowning in confusion. "Where... do you want to take me somewhere? Did some little kid fall down a well or something?"

Naomi was probably (definitely) seeing things, but Skia almost looked unimpressed.

Naomi weighed her options. The smart thing to do would be to bid the beast goodbye and go back to St. Monica's. One of the nuns would drive her to the ER, she'd get a cast for her broken arm, she'd be grilled as to how she'd broken it in the first place. She could say someone tried to mug her, but she got away. It'd be easy enough to believe.

But she didn't want to go back to St. Monica's. It was stupid, and could very well get her killed, but part of her wanted to climb onto Skia's back and go wherever the beast wanted to take her.

Could it really be a worse place than St. Monica's?

Probably, the logical part of her brain told her.

Naomi decided not to listen. She climbed onto Skia's back, struggling a little with one arm out of commission. She leaned forward, hugging Skia's neck with her good arm, gripping her fur.

She expected Skia to run out of the opening of the alleyway, but instead, the beast turned toward the wall.

Naomi barely got a chance to scream before Skia dove into the wall and the world went dark.

Chapter 6: iv. naomi plays pinochle with a god and a horse-man

Chapter Text

OKAY, TO BE COMPLETELY FAIR: Skia didn't actually dive into the wall. Really, Naomi wasn't sure what the beast did. She'd only seen half of the first Harry Potter movie, but it seemed a little like Skia was trying to get to Platform 9 —except Naomi was fairly sure Platform 9 wasn't in the middle of a dark forest, and the people who ended up there didn't get violently ill right after.

She barely managed to scramble off of Skia's back before she was retching. Her head was spinning and she wasn't sure if the pain in her still-broken arm or disorientation from going from an alley to a forest in a single second was more to blame for her dizziness.

She heard Skia whimper behind her, nudging her uninjured arm with her giant snout. Naomi tried to lift her head to show the beast that she was okay (which she was definitely not), but that simple action zapped her of almost all of her strength.

Black spots danced across her vision like they were trying to perform a complicated waltz. Her empty stomach turned, and she listed to the side. She tried to steady herself with a hand on the ground, but she'd forgotten about her broken arm, and a startled cry escaped her lips as she accidentally applied pressure.

She collapsed, exhausted by the pain and everything that had happened in the last... god, it couldn't have been any longer than twenty minutes. Was twenty minutes all it took to turn her entire world upside down?

Skia barked, the sound echoing in the dark forest around them. Through the haze her mind had become, Naomi felt the beast nudge her cheek almost affectionately.

A moment later, Naomi heard voices in the distance. Skia barked again, as if calling them forward. She nudged Naomi's face one last time, and then she was gone, taking her comfort and her warmth with her.

The black spots from before were getting bigger. It took too much effort to keep her eyes open, but she lingered just on the edge of unconsciousness, just long enough to hear a pretty voice shout, "Katie! Help me get her to the infirmary!"

Naomi came to in fleeting moments, between dreams of darkness and monstrous roars and one-eyed creatures with hands like vice grips. The first time her eyes fluttered open, she saw a tent-like ceiling over her, until the view was obscured by a blurry, vaguely familiar face.

"What do you think happened to her?" the pretty voice from before asked, but Naomi couldn't see the person speaking.

"I am not sure," answered a faintly familiar voice, matching the movement of lips on the vaguely familiar face. "Miss Murphy, can you hear me?"

Naomi couldn't even move her mouth to answer. The darkness snatched her back into its grasp.

At one point, through a haze of nightmares and sleep, she swore she heard another familiar voice. "I'm so sorry," it said, sounding like the speaker was fighting tears. "I keep failing."

At another, she heard the pretty voice ask, "Could it be her? Not Percy?"

"I don't know," came the first familiar voice.

"Chiron... it's starting, isn't it?"

"Careful, Annabeth. We mustn't tempt the Fates."

When Naomi finally woke all the way, the first thing she noticed was that her arm didn't hurt. It took her a moment to understand why that was significant, the memories of the one-eyed man and the dark beast coming back to her in pieces.

An involuntary groan came as she opened her eyes, momentarily blinded by the light in the room. Naomi registered the sound of shuffling nearby, then a decidedly unfamiliar voice said, "Good. You're awake."

Naomi flinched, turning her head a bit too quickly to find the source of the voice. Her neck ached at the sudden movement, and she bit her tongue to keep from making a sound as she forced herself to sit up.

"Careful," the voice warned. "You've been out a while. You must've taken pretty bad beating from... whatever attacked you."

Naomi found the source of the voice—a short, dark-haired boy who looked a little older than her. He walked over to her at a brisk pace, a glass of some gold-colored drink in his hand.

"Here," he said, holding the glass out to her. "Should help with the soreness."

Naomi had sat through more than a few stranger-danger assemblies during elementary school, so she eyed the glass warily, refusing to take it. "What is that?"

"Nectar," the boy said, as if that was supposed to make sense to Naomi.

"Like... the stuff that comes out of flowers?" she questioned.

"No, like nectar—drink of the gods." He held the glass out to her again. "A little bit can help half-bloods like us heal, but you have to be careful not to take too much, otherwise you'll burn to death from the inside out."

"What?" Naomi squeaked, shrinking as far away from the glass as the small cot allowed. "You want me to drink that?"

The boy almost looked offended. "I know how much can be taken safely," he told her. "I've been doing this a long time."

"Doing what?" she asked. "Trying to get kids to drink something that could kill them?"

"Healing," the boy corrected. "I'm the best healer at camp."

Naomi felt like she was still dreaming, because that was the only explanation that made any sense. "What are you talking about? What camp?"

The boy frowned, confused for a moment before something like realization flashed across his face. "Oh, right, I forgot, you haven't seen the orientation film yet," he said. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've talked to a newbie. I'm Lee Fletcher."

Naomi just stared at him, completely baffled.

"Seriously, though, you should drink this," the boy—Lee—said.

"I'm not drinking anything," Naomi insisted.

"What, do you think I poisoned it?" Lee took a sip of the drink, then made a show of swallowing. "See? I'm all good. No internal combustion to see here."

When Naomi still made no move to take the glass, he frowned. "I don't have cooties, if that's what you're worried about."

Naomi scowled. "How old do you think I am, five?"

"My guess was ten," Lee corrected.

"I'm thirteen!"

"Seriously?" Lee looked genuinely surprised. "You look eleven."

"And you look twelve."

"I'm fourteen, for your information," Lee told her. "Now, seriously, drink this, otherwise you're going to be sore and achy all day, and I do not want to hear you complain."

Naomi eyed the glass warily once more, but gave in after a moment. Cautiously, she took a sip. It tasted sweet, like the hot chocolate Percy's mom had made when Naomi came over during Christmas break. Naomi couldn't begin to explain how it managed to taste like that when the glass itself was cold in her hand, but she finished it.

Like magic, the soreness in her muscles and ache behind her eyes faded until she felt better than ever.

Lee took the empty glass from her. "How's your arm feel?"

Naomi looked down at her once-broken arm, unable to comprehend how it looked perfectly fine now. "It was broken," she said in awe. "How...?"

"I healed it," Lee said with a grin. "Sang a song to my dad, Apollo. You're welcome."

"Your dad's name is Apollo?" Naomi questioned. "Like the spaceship?"

Lee smiled in amusement. "He's the Apollo," he said. "The spaceship was named after him."

Naomi frowned. "What, you mean... the god Apollo? From those Greek stories?"

"Yep," Lee said.

"But... those are myths."

Lee winced. "I should let Chiron explain everything," he said. "But... surprise! The Greek gods are real!"

Not giving her time to process, Lee grabbed a stack of folded clothes and dropped it in her lap. He jabbed a thumb in the direction of a half-open door. "You can change in the bathroom. The clothes are fresh from the camp store—one of the Aphrodite kids guessed your sizes, and they're usually pretty good at that sort of thing, but if they don't fit, we can get different ones."

Head reeling, Naomi hopped off of the cot, the clothes clutched to her chest, and walked into the bathroom.

Once Naomi had changed into the obnoxiously orange t-shirt—emblazoned with the logo CAMP HALF-BLOOD and a silhouette of a horse with wings—and shorts Lee had given her, he pointed her toward a different doorway in the infirmary.

"That's the exit," he informed her. "It'll take you onto a wraparound porch. Just keep walking until you find a man in a wheelchair and another man in an outrageous Hawaiian t-shirt playing a card game. Hard to miss."

Naomi blinked. "Uh—okay."

"Good luck!" Lee called after her.

Naomi had barely stepped out onto the porch when she spotted a pair of familiar faces.

"Grover? Percy?"

"Naomi!" In a second, Naomi was lifted off of her feet by Grover, who sort of looked like he'd been crying, but Naomi decided to ignore that. "You're okay! I was so worried!"

Grover had just set her down when Percy pulled her into a hug just as tight as the former's. "I'm so happy to see you."

When Naomi was finally placed back on her feet, she looked between her two best friends, her mind spinning a little. She opened her mouth to ask what they were doing there, but the words died on her tongue as she realized Grover's feet... weren't feet.

"What... why do you have hooves?" Naomi asked.

Grover cracked a small smile. "Guess you haven't been here long."

Naomi shook her head. "I just woke up," she said.

"What happened?" Percy asked. "How'd you end up here?"

Naomi told them everything, from the Cyclops breaking her arm to Skia the giant dog teleporting her to the woods outside of... wherever she was. Grover didn't look shocked per se, but his expression grew more and more troubled as she told her story.

"A Cyclops..." he said under his breath. "That's not good. Not good at all."

On the other hand, Percy seemed almost... reserved. It was something that worried her, because Percy was hardly ever this quiet. There was a sadness in his eyes that worried her, because it took a lot to quiet Percy's spirit.

"What about you guys?" Naomi asked. "How did you end up here? What happened?"

Grover told her their story—how Grover had found Percy and his mom at their cabin in Montauk, how a Minotaur had hunted them all the way to the camp, how Percy's mom...

Naomi's heart climbed into her throat.

Her eyes were brimming with tears by the time Grover caught her up, but she tried not to let them fall. Percy already looked like he was on the edge of breaking, and she didn't want her tears to be the reason he cracked.

Still, the thought of Sally Jackson, just... gone... it made Naomi's chest ache like she'd lost her own mother.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she whispered.

Percy sniffled quietly, hugging the shoebox in his arms closer to his chest.

"Come on," Grover said gently. "Chiron and Mr. D. are waiting. They're going to want to hear about what happened—to both of you."

Just like Lee had said—the porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse. As they came around the opposite end of the house, Naomi caught her breath.

She hadn't given much thought to where they were, but now she could see that they must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to Long Island Sound, glittering in the distance. Between here and there, Naomi had trouble processing what she was looking at.

The landscape was dotted with buildings that reminded her of some of the photographs Mr. Brunner had shown them of ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sunlight. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high-school age kids and goat-people—satyrs, Grover had told her they were called—played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in the same bright orange t-shirts Lee had given Naomi were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail.

Was Naomi crazy, or did some of those horses have wings?

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. There was a pretty blonde-haired girl leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing them was short and stout. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like a cherub who'd gotten old and now lived in a trailer park, yelling at kids to get off of his nonexistent lawn. He wore a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, just like Lee had said.

Yeah, definitely hard to miss.

"That's Mr. D.," Grover murmured to them. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron..."

He pointed at the guy whose back was to them.

First, Naomi realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then she recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" Percy cried.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at them. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy, Naomi," he said. "Now we have enough for pinochle."

He gestured for them to sit down in the two empty chairs on either side of the table.

Mr. D. looked at them with a bored expression, his eyes bloodshot, and heaved a weary sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now don't expect me to be glad to see you."

Naomi shrunk as far away from him as she could without looking suspicious.

"Uh, thanks," Percy said, scooting a little further away from him, too.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner called to the blonde girl.

She came forward and Mr. Brunner introduced her to them. "This young lady helped get you to the infirmary after your collapse, Naomi, and she nursed you back to help, Percy, shortly after. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and Naomi's bunks? We'll be putting them in cabin eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth agreed.

She looked like she was around Percy and Naomi's age, at least a head taller than Naomi (which wasn't that much of a feat, but still), and very athletic-looking. She had a deep tan and curly blonde hair that reminded Naomi a little of Cinderella, but her eyes didn't fit with that image. They were a startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she were constantly analyzing how best to come out the victor of any social interaction.

She glanced at the shoebox in Percy's hands, then back at him.

"You drool when you sleep."

Then she sprinted off down the lawn, her blonde hair flying behind her.

Naomi snorted in amusement, quickly covering her mouth to stifle the sound.

Percy shot her a light glare, his cheeks red with embarrassment. "So," he said, clearly anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex-Mr. Brunner said. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Percy turned to the director. "And Mr. D... does that stand for something?"

Mr. D. stopped shuffling the cards. He looked at Percy like he was considering whether to use his right or his left hand to slap him. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason."

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"Naomi, I must ask," not-Mr. Brunner said, taking the spotlight off of Percy, "how did you get to camp? Annabeth told me she found you in the woods by the camp borders unconscious. Did someone drop you off?"

"Skia," she said quietly. Then, at the confused eyebrow Chiron-Brunner raised, she flushed with embarrassment. "A... a big dog. She saved me from the one-eyed man. Then she... I don't know, teleported or something? I don't really know what happened."

She was expecting Chiron to look at her like she was crazy—she felt crazy. But the fake Latin teacher's expression was grim, looking at Mr. D. for a moment.

"And this... big dog," Mr. D. said, his voice gruff as he addressed Naomi. "What'd it look like?"

Naomi had trouble meeting his eyes. She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Like... like a giant mastiff?"

For some reason, Chiron's expression grew even more grim. Mr. D. studied her closely, which made her skin crawl.

"Chiron says you're an orphan?" he said crassly. "You don't have any memories of your parents? No family keepsakes or fuzzy memories?"

Naomi leaned away from him. "No," she mumbled.

"What was that?"

"She said no," Percy said, glaring at the side of the camp director's face.

"Well," Chiron broke in, forcing a smile that did nothing to convince Naomi he was actually happy. "Percy, I must say, I'm glad to see you alive as well. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" Percy questioned.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to... ah, take a leave of absence."

Naomi tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but she had a faint memory of there being another Latin teacher her first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken over the class.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asked.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D. said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the last empty chair between Percy and Chiron.

"Do either of you know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D. asked, eyeing the two thirteen-year-olds suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," Percy said.

"I'm afraid not, sir," Mr. D. corrected.

Percy's eyes narrowed a little in annoyance. "Sir."

The director jerked his chin at Naomi. "What about you?"

"Yeah," Naomi admitted quietly.

"Really?" Percy asked.

Naomi shrugged. "The nuns liked to play it. I watched."

"Huh," Mr. D said. "Well, maybe you've got some redeeming qualities after all."

Naomi tried not to take offense.

"Well," the director said, "for the uninformed"—he looked pointedly at Percy—"pinochle is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized individuals to know the rules."

"I'm sure Percy can learn," Chiron said amicably.

"Please," the boy in the question said, "what is this place? What am I doing here? Mr. Brun—Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D. snorted. "I asked the same question."

The camp director dealt the cards. Grover flinched every time one landed in his pile.

Chiron smiled sympathetically at Percy. "Percy," he said, "did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said..." Percy hesitated. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted me to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D. said. "That's how they usually get killed. Kid, are you bidding or not?"

Naomi jumped, realizing he was talking to her. "Oh, uh, sorry." She bid quickly, paying little attention to the game itself.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" Percy asked.

"No," Chiron decided. "Well, Percy, Naomi. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"—he pointed to the horn in the shoebox—"that you have killed a Minotaur, Percy. No small feat, either, lad. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods—the forces you call the Greek gods—are very much alive."

Chapter 7: v. touring the summer camp of death

Chapter Text

ALL NAOMI COULD DO was stare at the others around the table.

She waited for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of nowhere and reveal that all of this was the elaborate set-up to a giant prank. That the one-eyed man had been an actor, that Skia teleporting her out of the alley and into the woods was just some kind of large-scale sleight-of-hand or some sort of TV magic.

All she got was Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackled as he tallied up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bit a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chewed it mournfully.

"Wait," Percy said. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron said. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

Naomi's mind was spinning. If the nuns heard what she was hearing, they'd go on a tirade about devil-worshipping sinners and force Naomi to recite an entire book in the Bible to "cleanse her soul." Probably one of the gospels. They loved the gospels.

"Metaphysical?" Percy asked. "But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller!"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class."

"Zeus," Percy said. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

In the distance, thunder rumbled in the cloudless sky.

"Young man," Mr. D said sternly. "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around, if I were you."

"But they're stories," Percy said. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoffed. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson—"

Percy flinched at the sound of his full name.

"—what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continued. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

There was something about the way Mr. D kept referring to mortals, as if they were a group separate from him. As if he wasn't a mortal. It was enough to make Naomi want to get as far away from him as fast as she could, even more than she already did.

"Percy," Chiron said, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," Percy said.

"Exactly," Chiron agreed. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you, Perseus Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how little boys can get over losing their mothers?"

Percy's face turned into a scowl, but he seemed to be fighting his anger. "I wouldn't like it," he said, keeping his eyes on the tabletop. "But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmured. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover said, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbled, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with kids who don't even believe!"

He waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

Naomi stared with wide eyes, but Chiron hardly looked up.

"Mr. D," he warned, "your restrictions."

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

"Dear me." He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

More thunder.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits."

"A wood nymph," Percy repeated, still staring at the Diet Coke can like it was from outer space.

"Yes," Mr. . confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time—well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away—the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you two. 'Be a better influence,' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down.' Ha! Absolutely unfair."

Mr. D sounded like a six-year-old, pouting like a little kid.

"And..." Percy stammered, "your father is..."

"Di immortales, Chiron," Mr. D said. "I thought you taught this boy the basics. My father is Zeus, of course."

"You're Dionysus," Naomi whispered, thinking of the wineglass. "The god of wine."

Mr. D rolled his eyes. "What do they say these days, Grover? Do the children say, 'Well, duh!'?"

"Y-yes, Mr. D"

"Then, 'Well duh!' Naomi Murphy. Did you think I was Aphrodite, perhaps?"

Definitely not.

"You're a god," Percy said.

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turned to look at Percy straight on, and Naomi saw a kind of purplish fire in his eyes—a hint that he was only showing the smallest bit of his true nature. Naomi had a feeling he could do far worse things than beating a couple of children in pinochle.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he said quietly.

"No," Percy said. "No, sir."

The fire died a little. Mr. D turned back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron said. He set down a straight, tallied the points, and said, "The game goes to me."

Naomi thought Mr. D was going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighed through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He got up, and Grover rose, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to Percy and Naomi. "Cabin eleven, you two. And mind your manners, young man."

He swept into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" Percy asked Chiron.

Chiron nodded, though he looked a bit troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been... ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," Percy said. "You're telling me there really is a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like... in America?"

"Well, certainly. The gods move with the heart of the West."

Percy looked at Naomi, as if she might understand what Chiron was talking about. When she met his bewildered look with one of her own, he looked back at Chiron. "The what?"

"Come now, Percy. What you call 'Western civilization.' Do you think it's just an abstract concept? No, it's a living force. A collective consciousness that has burned bright for thousands of years. The gods are part of it. You might even say they are the source of it, or at least, they are tied so tightly to it that they couldn't possibly fade, not unless all of Western civilization were obliterated. The fire started in Greece. Then, as you well know—or as I hope you know, since you both passed my course—the heart of the fire moved to Rome, and so did the gods. Oh, different names, perhaps—Jupiter for Zeus, Venus for Aphrodite, and so on—but the same forces, the same gods."

"And then they died."

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either—America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

It was all too much, especially the fact that Chiron seemed to be including Naomi and Percy in his we, as if they'd just been inducted into some special club.

"Who are you, Chiron?" Percy asked. He looked at Naomi, then back at the ex-Latin teacher. "Who... who are we?"

Chiron smiled. He shifted his weight as if he were going to get up out of his wheelchair, but Naomi knew that was impossible. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you," he mused. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you two bunks in Cabin Eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be toasted marshmallows at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore them."

And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, Naomi thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, she realized the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

Naomi stared at the horse that had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should have been was the upper body of her Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to his horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, you two. Let's meet the other campers."

Naomi had never been to an actual summer camp before. She'd never been to a camp at all, actually. The only times she left the orphanage before Yancy was to attend church functions or volunteer at the soup kitchen a few blocks away. None of the nuns ever even considered the idea of bringing a bunch of orphans into the middle of the woods for a weekend of bonding and survival training.

For good reason, too. Naomi loathed to think of what might have happened if Darren had been let loose into the wild.

Chiron the half-horse led her and Percy on a tour of the camp. They passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the Minotaur horn Percy was carrying. Another said, "That's him."

Most of the campers were older than them. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD t-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. Naomi had never liked being the center of attention, and despite the fact that Percy seemed to be more of a celebrity here than she was (thank God), she wasn't completely out of the spotlight.

Her skin crawled at the eyes on her.

"What's up there?"

Naomi looked in the direction Percy was pointing—back at the farmhouse, at the uppermost window of the attic gable.

Chiron's smile faded. "Just the attic."

"Somebody lives there?"

"No," he said with finality. "Not a single living thing."

Naomi had a feeling he was telling the truth, but the cryptic tone in his voice made her wonder what non-living things might have been up there.

"Come along, you two," Chiron said, his lighthearted tone now a little forced. "Lots to see."

They walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

Chiron told them that the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses," he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort."

He said Mr. D. had that effect on fruit-bearing plants: they went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D. was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

Naomi watched the satyr playing his pipe. His music was making lines of bugs leave the strawberry patch in every direction, like refugees fleeing a fire.

"Grover won't be in too much trouble, will he?" Percy asked Chiron. "I mean... he was a good protector. Really."

Chiron sighed. He shed his tweed jacket and draped it over his horse's back like a saddle. "Grover has big dreams, Percy. Perhaps bigger than are reasonable. To reach his goal, he must first demonstrate great courage by succeeding as a keeper, finding a new camper and bringing him safely to Half-Blood Hill."

"But he did that!"

"I might agree with you," Chiron said. "But it is not my place to judge. Dionysus and the Council of Cloven Elders must decide. I'm afraid they might not see this assignment as a success. After all, Grover didn't realize Naomi was a half-blood as well until just a few weeks ago. He also lost you in New York, Percy. Then there's the unfortunate... ah... fate of your mother. And the fact that Grover was unconscious when you dragged him over the property line. The council might question whether this shows any courage on Grover's part."

Percy looked distraught. "He'll get a second chance, won't he?"

Chiron winced. "I'm afraid that was Grover's second chance, Percy. The council was not anxious to give him another, either, after what happened the first time, five years ago. Olympus knows, I advised him to wait longer before trying again. He's still so small for his age..."

"How old is he?" Percy asked.

"Oh, twenty-eight."

"What! And he's in seventh grade?"

"Satyrs mature half as fast as humans," Chiron explained. "Grover has been the equivalent of a middle school student for the past six years."

"Yikes," Naomi mumbled.

"Quite," Chiron agreed. "At any rate, Grover is a late bloomer, even by satyr standards, and not yet very accomplished at woodland magic. Alas, he was anxious to pursue his dream. Perhaps now he will find some other career..."

"That's not fair," Percy said. "What happened the first time? Was it really so bad?"

Chiron looked away quickly. "Let's move along, shall we?"

"Chiron," Percy said. "If the gods and Olympus and all that are real..."

"Yes, child?"

"Does that mean the Underworld is real, too?"

Chiron's expression darkened.

"Yes, child." He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. Naomi might have imagined it, but she thought his gaze flickered briefly to her, before returning to Percy. "There is a place where spirits go after death. But for now... until we know more... I would urge you to put that out of your mind."

"What do you mean, 'until we know more'?"

"Come," Chiron said, electing to ignore the question. "Let's see the woods."

As they got closer, Naomi balked at how massive the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, it was hard to imagine any human being even knowing it existed. It was like a lumberjack's paradise, or a squirrel's.

"The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed," Chiron warned.

Naomi frowned.

"Stocked with what?" Percy asked. "Armed with what?"

"You'll see. Capture the flag is Friday night. Do either of you have your own sword and shield?"

Naomi stared at him, baffled, and slowly shook her head.

"No," Chiron said. "I don't suppose you do. I think a size five will fit you, Percy. And... hmm, I think we may have a size three somewhere for you, Naomi. I'll visit the armory later."

Naomi wasn't sure what kind of summer camp had an armory, but she didn't get much of a chance to think about it. The tour continued.

Chiron showed them the archery range, the canoeing lake, the stables (which Chiron didn't seem to be a fan of), the javelin range, the sing-along amphitheater, and the arena where Chiron said they held sword and spear fights.

"Sword and spear fights?" Naomi squeaked.

"Cabin challenges and all that," he explained. "Not lethal. Usually. Oh, yes, and there's the mess hall."

Chiron pointed to an outdoor pavilion framed in white Grecian columns on a hill overlooking the sea. There were a dozen stone picnic tables. No roof. No walls.

"What do you do when it rains?" Percy asked.

Chiron looked at him as if he was crazy. "We still have to eat, don't we?"

Finally, the centaur showed them the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without a doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings Naomi had ever seen.

The only thing they all had in common was a large brass number above the door. Other than that, they couldn't have looked any more different. None of them even looked like cabins, really. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made of actual grass. Number five was surrounded by a barbed wire fence. Seven looked like it was made of solid gold, and across the green, eight looked like it was made of solid silver.

All of them faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops.

In the center of the field was a stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums. Cabin One looked like a giant bank, with the standard Grecian columns in front. The polished bronze doors shimmered like a holograph, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them.

Cabin Two looked more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" Percy guessed.

"Correct," Chiron said.

"Their cabins look empty."

"Several of the cabins are. That's true. No one ever stays in one or two."

Naomi frowned. It made sense that each cabin was dedicated to a different god, sort of like a team mascot. But why would some of them be empty?

They stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, Cabin Three.

It wasn't high and mighty like Cabin One, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were made of rough gray stone, studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor.

Percy peeked inside the open doorway.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that!" Chiron warned. He put his hand on Percy's shoulder and said, "Come along, now."

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers. Cabin Five—the one with the barbed wire fence—was easily the scariest of the cabins. A stuffed boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow Naomi. Inside she could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm-wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared.

The loudest was a girl maybe fourteen or so. She wore an XXXL Camp Half-Blood t-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on Percy and gave him an evil sneer. She reminded Naomi of Nancy Bobofit, or a female Darren, though somehow the camper girl was bigger and even more intimidating.

Chiron kept walking, thankfully.

"We haven't seen any other centaurs," Percy noted.

"No," Chiron said sadly. "My kinsmen are a wild and barbaric folk, I'm afraid. You might encounter them in the wilderness, or at major sporting events. But you won't see any here."

"You said your name was Chiron. Are you really...?"

The centaur smiled. "The Chiron from the stories? Trainer of Hercules and all that? Yes, Percy, I am."

"But, shouldn't you be dead?"

Chiron paused, as if the question intrigued him. "I honestly don't know about should be. The truth is, I can't be dead. You see, eons ago the gods granted my wish. I could continue the work I loved. I could be a teacher of heroes as long as humanity needed me. I gained much from that wish... and I gave up much. But I'm still here, so I can only assume I'm still needed."

Naomi couldn't imagine being a teacher for three thousand years. It sounded like a nightmare, dealing with rowdy kids and PTA moms for eternity.

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"No, no," Chiron said. "Horribly depressing, at times, but never boring."

"Why depressing?"

Chiron seemed to turn hard of hearing again.

"Oh, look," he said. "Annabeth is waiting for us."

Chapter 8: vi. naomi makes a friend at summer camp

Chapter Text

THE BLONDE GIRL FROM BEFORE was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, Cabin Eleven.

When they reached her, she looked Percy over critically, like she was still thinking about how much he drooled.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy and Naomi from here?"

"Yes, sir."

"Cabin Eleven," Chiron told them, gesturing toward the doorway. "Make yourselves at home."

Out of all the cabins, Eleven looked the closest to an actual cabin—an old one at that. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was one of those doctor's symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. Naomi couldn't remember what it was called, but she recognized it from hospital emergency rooms.

Inside, it was packed with people, boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over the floor. It looked a little like the orphanage a few summers ago, when a freak hurricane hit and it had to be turned into an evacuation center.

Chiron didn't go in. The door was too low for him. But when the campers saw him, they all stood and bowed respectfully.

"Well, then," Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy, Naomi. I'll see you at dinner."

He galloped away toward the archery range.

Percy stood in the doorway, Naomi all but hiding behind him. Around his arm, she could see the other kids staring, sizing him up.

"Well?" Annabeth prompted. "Go on."

Naturally, Percy tripped coming in the door and made a fool of himself.

Naomi was only a little happy that it took the attention off of her.

Annabeth announced, "Percy Jackson, Naomi Murphy, meet Cabin Eleven."

"Regular or undetermined?" somebody asked.

"Undetermined," Annabeth said.

Everybody groaned.

A guy who was a little older than the rest came forward. "Now, now, campers. That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy and Naomi. You can have those two spots on the floor, over there."

The guy looked like he was out of high school, maybe nineteen, and he looked nice enough. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals and a leather necklace with five different-colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like he'd been slashed with a knife.

"This is Luke," Annabeth said, and her voice sounded a little different. Naomi looked at her, and she could've sworn her cheeks were tinged pink. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" Percy asked.

"You're undetermined," Luke explained patiently, like this wasn't his first time dealing with a pair of clueless newcomers. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin Eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

Naomi vaguely remembered Chiron/Mr. Brunner's lesson on Hermes. She was pretty sure he was the god of thieves, too.

She looked around at the campers' faces, some sullen and suspicious, some grinning stupidly, some eyeing her and Percy as if they were waiting for a chance to pick their pockets. Naomi figured they'd be pretty disappointed when all they got was lint from hers.

"How long will we be here?" Percy asked.

"Good question," Luke said. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?"

The campers all laughed.

"Come on," Annabeth said. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"We've already seen it," Percy said.

"Come on."

She grabbed his wrist and dragged him outside. Percy caught Naomi's hand, pulling her after them. She could hear the kids of Cabin Eleven laughing behind them as they left.

Once they were a reasonable distance away, Annabeth said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

She turned on Naomi. "And you, do you even know how to speak?" she demanded.

Naomi flinched back. "Of course I do," she mumbled.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, "I can't believe I thought either of you were the one."

"What's your problem?" Percy asked, glaring at the blonde. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

"Don't talk like that!" Annabeth told him. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they'd had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

Percy shook his head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was the Minotaur, the same one in the stories..."

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So..."

"Monsters don't die, Percy," Annabeth said, as if he should have already known that. "They can be killed. But they don't die."

"Oh, thanks," Percy said. "That clears it up."

"They don't have souls, like you and me. You can dispel them for a while, maybe even for a whole lifetime if you're lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them archetypes. Eventually, they re-form."

Percy looked at Naomi, and she wondered if he was thinking of Mrs. Dodds, too.

"You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fu... I mean, your math teacher," Annabeth said. "That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?"

"You talk in your sleep."

"You almost called her something," Percy said. "A Fury? They're Hades torturers, right?"

Annabeth glanced nervously at the ground, as if she expected it to open up and swallow her. "You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" He sounded a little whiny, but Naomi couldn't blame him. She was about at her wit's end, too. "Why do we have to stay in Cabin Eleven, anyway? Why is everyone so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

He pointed to the first few cabins, and Annabeth turned pale.

"You don't just choose a cabin, Percy," she said. "It depends on who your parents are. Or... your parent."

She stared at them, waiting for them to understand.

"What does that matter?" Naomi asked, finding her voice for just about the first time since waking up in that infirmary. She knew she sounded bitter, but she couldn't help it—she never sounded happy when she talked about her parents. "I don't know my parents. They abandoned me. They shouldn't get a say in what cabin I'm supposed to be in."

Annabeth sighed. "I know it's a lot to take in, but the fact is, one of your parents is a god."

"Then where are they?" Naomi demanded, her voice shaking a little. "Where have they been this whole time?"

Annabeth's expression turned a little less intense. "The gods can't be involved in their children's lives," she explained, a tad bit gentler. "It's how it's always been."

"And we're just supposed to accept that?" Naomi knew she was acting like a petulant toddler, but she didn't care. Years of bouncing between the idea that both of her parents were dead or they just didn't care about her boiled over into more anger than she'd ever felt in her entire life. "We're supposed to just live with the fact that one of our parents just doesn't care?"

The sky rumbled angrily, but Naomi barely noticed.

"Careful," Annabeth warned, glancing from the sky back to the now-fuming girl. "The gods'll get mad."

"I don't care!" Naomi practically shouted. "I'd rather be an actual orphan than accept that some god brought me into this world and didn't care enough to make sure I survived it!"

Naomi's eyes burned with tears. Before Percy or Annabeth could see them, she turned on her heel, running as fast and as far as she could away from everything. She ignored them calling after her.

She just ran, the tears coursing down her cheeks before she could stop them.

When Naomi finally got tired of running, she found herself at the stables Chiron had shown them earlier. There didn't seem to be any other campers inside, so Naomi went in, hoping for a few minutes of solitude to pull herself together and make it look like she hadn't just been crying like the crybaby Nancy Bobofit thought she was.

She sniffled quietly, wishing she had a sweatshirt or something with long sleeves to wipe her face with. Alas, all she had was the orange t-shirt—which she didn't feel like getting snot and tears on—and her bare hands.

She hardly had the heart to feel gross as she wiped her face and tried to stop crying.

Her anger was quickly fading into just plain embarrassment. Annabeth already seemed to think she was timid, now she could just add "crybaby" to the list. Percy already knew Naomi was sensitive, but she figured there were only so many times a person could watch someone else burst into tears before they got annoyed.

Plus, it didn't help that she'd declared she'd rather be an orphan than have a god for a parent, right after Percy had lost his mom.

She was an awful person. She wouldn't be surprised if he befriended Annabeth just to get away from her.

Of course, those thoughts were not helping her stop crying.

She sat down against the wall of the stable, listening to the winged horses snort and whinny to each other like co-workers at the water cooler. Naomi didn't have any idea what they might have been talking about, but they seemed to be getting along.

She hugged her bent legs to her chest and buried her face between her knees.

The stables smelled about as pleasant as she expected stables could ever smell, like musty hay and a farm. She only knew what a farm smelled like because the nuns had once organized a petting zoo fundraiser when she was little.

After Darren almost strangled one of the baby goats, the nuns wisely decided to steer clear of fundraisers involving live animals.

God, the nuns. What did they think had happened to her? Naomi doubted any of them cared about her well-being specifically, but kids disappearing from orphanages couldn't have been good for their reputation. If she ever went back there, she could count on getting the paddle and probably being forcibly taken out of Yancy. Not that she would really care about the latter...

But would she go back? If she had the choice, as crowded as Cabin Eleven looked, she'd much rather stay there than at the orphanage. Maybe it was stupid, but at least there was stuff to do at this camp. She could learn archery, do all sorts of arts and crafts (that didn't revolve around Jesus or the Ark or some other Bible story), maybe even make a few friends. The latter was a bit more daunting than the rest, but maybe she could. It'd be easier to do it here than at St. Monica's or Yancy.

Naomi sniffled again, her tears finally coming to a stop. She still felt like a leaky faucet, but the worst of her tears had finally subsided, and now she only had to deal with the occasional hiccup as she tried to calm herself down.

But, to her embarrassment, she was still wet-cheeked and red-faced when someone found her.

Someone rapped their knuckles on the wooden wall of the stables, making her flinch in surprise. She looked up from where she'd had her cheek laying on her bent knees, her face flushing with further embarrassment at the sight of her new—and apparently only temporary—counselor, Luke.

"Y'know, there are plenty of better-smelling places to get a good cry in," he said lightly, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the doorframe.

Naomi sniffled, wiping her cheeks again. "I'm not crying."

Luke chuckled, taking the lie in stride. "Well, now you know for the future," he said. He stepped further into the stables, going over to one of the winged horses and running a hand down its snout. "Have you met Lancelot yet?"

Naomi shook her head slowly. "No."

Luke waved her over. "C'mon, I'll introduce you."

Naomi stood up, brushing the hay off of her shorts. She walked over to Luke and the horse cautiously, not sure what to make of the winged creature nickering at Luke from his stall.

"Lance doesn't bite—promise," Luke assured her. He produced a sugar cube from his pocket—why he had sugar cubes in his pocket, Naomi wasn't sure, but she was too tired from her crying spell to bother questioning it. He handed it to her, nodding for her to feed it to Lancelot.

She did, the smallest of smiles tugging at the corners of her lips as Lancelot happily took the sugar cube and then nibbled on her fingers, as if searching for another one. She reached up, petting the winged horse's snout. He was warm, and his fur was soft under her fingertips.

"Lancelot's good with beginners," Luke told her, scratching between the horse's ears. Naomi wondered if horses liked that as much as dogs seemed to. "Doesn't fly too high, good with directions—I'll make sure you get him at your first flying lesson, if you want."

Naomi looked at the teenager with wide eyes. "Flying lesson?"

"Yeah," Luke said. "Our next one's Wednesday, so you've got a few days to settle in before we throw you and your friend to the wolves—metaphorically speaking, of course. And I'll even let you sit out on Monday's rock-climbing lesson, just so you can observe before you try to tackle it."

Naomi frowned. "I've been rock-climbing before."

"Did those walls have lava shooting out from the top?" Luke asked. At Naomi's shocked expression, he laughed. "Didn't think so. Don't worry—camp's great once you get the hang of it."

"How long am I going to be here?" Naomi asked quietly. "The nuns are going to go ballistic if I'm gone too long."

"Nuns?" Luke questioned.

Naomi nodded. "At St. Monica's."

Maybe it was her tone, or maybe it was the grimace that always took over her face when she talked about the orphanage. Whichever it was, it made Luke's expression soften. "Camp Half-Blood's not just a summer camp, y'know," he said. "Some of us stay year-round, like me and Annabeth. If you don't want to go back to those nuns..."

"I don't," Naomi said. "I'd rather stay here. But... won't I get in trouble?"

Luke shrugged. "I'm sure Chiron can come up with some explanation to satisfy them—like some long-lost relatives found you or something. It'd be safer for you to stay here rather than out in the mortal world, anyway, especially until your godly parent claims you."

Naomi's mood dipped—as if it wasn't already low to start with—at the mention of her so-called godly parent.

Luke seemed to catch it, and he leaned against the stable wall, crossing his arms over his chest with a sympathetic look. "Touchy subject?"

"I've been an orphan my entire life," Naomi muttered. "Now I'm just supposed to accept that one of my parents is some god who doesn't care about me?"

Luke's expression grew somehow softer. "It's a lot to take in, I know," he said. "And it doesn't really get any easier, unfortunately."

"How are we supposed to deal with it?" Naomi asked, reaching out to pet Lancelot again. He seemed pleased with the attention, and Naomi was happy for the momentary distraction.

"Honestly?" Luke said. "I haven't quite figured it out yet. It's just something we have to accept, I guess."

Naomi frowned. "I don't want to accept it," she mumbled.

"Everything might make more sense once you're claimed," Luke told her. "Or maybe it won't. But regardless, you've got a home here. Us campers—we're a family. Kind of have to be when one of our parents is busy being a god."

Naomi chewed on the inside of her cheek. Family. It sounded too good to be true, too much like a fantasy for Naomi to believe. Her entire life, she'd wanted to know what it was like to have a family. The other kids at the orphanage were more like classmates than siblings, the nuns more like wardens than parents.

Luke pushed off of the doorframe, giving her a smile. "Come on," he said. "I think I know a way to cheer you up."

"This is supposed to cheer me up?"

Luke chuckled, flicking on the overhead light for the armory full of weapons—because obviously the summer camp of death had a shed full of swords and bows and knives. Obviously.

"I guess we can rule out Ares as your godly parent," he said light-heartedly. "If he was, you'd be in heaven."

Naomi looked around nervously, taking note of all the highly dangerous items around her. "What are we doing in here?" she asked quietly, inching away from a particularly terrifying mace.

"Every hero needs a weapon," Luke told her, walking to the back of the shed to look at a wall filled with a variety of swords. "Capture the Flag's Friday, and I'd be the world's worst cabin counselor if I didn't make sure you were armed beforehand."

"Do I have to be armed?" Naomi asked.

"Unless you want to visit the infirmary," Luke said with a light laugh. "Don't worry, we have training everyday, so you'll get plenty of practice with your weapon of choice. Speaking of which—what are you feeling? Dagger, bow, sword, spear? I think we've got a shotgun somewhere, too..."

Naomi tried to imagine herself wielding some monster-killing shotgun. It wasn't a pretty mental picture. "Um... a dagger, I guess?"

Luke hummed in acknowledgement. He wandered over to a rickety-looking dresser and pulled the top drawer open. "Looks like we've got two options," he said, taking two short blades out of the drawer. "I'll have to let Beckendorf know we're running low on them."

He held them both out for Naomi to see. Tentatively, she took the one in his right hand, studying it warily.

It was about the length of her forearm, solid bronze and gleaming in the light. There wasn't anything super special about it, save for the fact that it was a literal dagger. The hilt was a little too big for her to comfortably wrap her hand around, and Luke took notice of that.

"Try this one," he said, trading the dagger in her hand for the second dagger he held. "You have to make sure it's a proper fit—otherwise it's kind of useless."

Naomi studied the second dagger. The first thing she noticed was how reflective it was—she could see just about every detail of her blurry, frightened face in the bronze surface. It was a little shorter than the first dagger, the point smaller and more sharp-looking. It seemed like it was more meant for stabbing than slashing—not that Naomi had any experience doing either, of course.

"What do you think?" Luke asked, setting the first dagger back in the dresser where he'd gotten it.

Naomi shrugged. "It's... fine, I guess."

"Just fine?" Luke asked.

She shrugged again. "I don't really know how to tell if it's good or not."

Luke frowned, taking the dagger from his hand. He studied it for a moment. "I'm pretty sure this is a parazonium."

"A para-what?"

"A parazonium," Luke said. "It's a mostly ceremonial blade. I doubt it's seen much action. Might be better to start you off with a sword, anyway—daggers are a little tricky for beginners."

Naomi nodded, though she hardly followed his logic. She didn't even want any weapon, but it seemed she had to have one to survive this camp somewhat unscathed.

Luke went back to the wall of swords, thinking for a moment before taking one. He brought it over to Naomi, presenting it with a reassuring smile. "See how this one feels."

Naomi took the sword, surprised by how not-heavy it was. It wasn't necessarily light, but it was a comfortable enough weight for her to hold. The blade was about the length of her entire arm, which was a little intimidating, to be honest, but it also seemed to be on the shorter side of the swords on display.

"It's a good size for you," Luke said. "How's it feel to hold?"

"Good, I think," Naomi answered.

Luke chuckled. "It'll get better the more you get used to it," he promised. "So, what'd'ya say? Is this the one?"

"I guess," Naomi said.

"Oh, come on!" Luke exclaimed. "Be excited! You've got your first weapon! It's a good thing."

Naomi managed a small smile. It wasn't really that hard—Luke's energy was contagious.

"Well, now that you're armed," Luke said, "it's time I get you and your friend Percy some supplies. C'mon, let's get to the camp store before dinner—we'll see if you might be a child of Hermes."

"How would we find that out?" Naomi asked.

"We'll see how good at stealing you are."

Chapter 9: vii. prophecies, offerings, and sword-fights (oh my!)

Chapter Text

NAOMI PROBABLY WASN'T A CHILD OF HERMES, but according to Luke, she was a good distraction when it came to shoplifting.

Once Luke had (illegally) procured sleeping bags and toiletries for Percy and Naomi, they made their way back to the cabin, where everybody was talking and roughhousing, waiting for dinner.

Percy was sitting in his designated spot on the floor, holding his Minotaur horn to his chest like a teddy bear, which just reminded Naomi that her teddy bear—Rusty, whom she'd stolen from a toy drive at the orphanage when she was five—was still tucked into her bed.

If Darren hadn't already stolen it and ripped it up in her absence, of course.

Naomi was worried Percy would be mad at her for running away, but as soon as she sat down in her own designated spot on the floor, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"'M fine," she mumbled, fidgeting with her fingers. "Sorry I ran off."

Percy shrugged. "Probably for the best," he said. "I drenched one of the Ares girls with toilet water."

Naomi's eyes widened. "What?"

Before Percy could explain, Luke plopped down next to them, setting the stolen goods down. "Sleeping bags and toiletries for the newbies," he declared.

"Thanks," Percy said.

"No prob. Naomi helped." Noticing Percy's sullen expression, he bumped him with his shoulder. "Tough first day?"

"I don't belong here," Percy said. "I don't even believe in gods."

"Yeah," Luke said. "That's how we all started. Once you start believing in them? It doesn't get any easier."

"So your dad is Hermes?" Percy asked.

Luke pulled a switchblade out of his back pocket, using it to scrape the mud from the stables off the sole of his sandal. "Yeah. Hermes."

"The wing-footed messenger guy."

"That's him," Luke confirmed. "Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, merchants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you two are here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors."

"You ever meet your dad?" Percy asked.

"Once." He didn't elaborate, though Naomi wasn't too surprised—from their conversation in the stables, he seemed about as thrilled about having a god for a parent as Naomi.

Still, he looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it. The campers here, they're mostly good people. Like I told Naomi—we're family. We take care of each other."

Percy nodded slowly. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth... twice, she said I might be 'the one.' Naomi too. She said I should talk to the Oracle... what was that all about?"

Luke folded his knife. "I hate prophecies."

"What do you mean?"

His face twitched around his scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... somebody special came to the camp."

"Somebody special," Percy repeated.

"Don't worry about it, guys," Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for, and two in the same day? She got her hopes up, that's all. Now, come on, it's dinnertime."

The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance.

Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"

The whole cabin—about twenty kids—filed into the commons yard. They lined up in order of seniority, so of course Percy and Naomi were dead last.

The whole camp marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods—as in, straight out of the woods. Naomi saw one girl, maybe nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.

At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but Cabin Eleven's was way overcrowded.

Naomi spotted Grover at table twelve with Mr. D, a few other satyrs, and a pair of blond boys who looked scarily like Mr. D Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her grey eyes and honey-blonde hair. Their table seemed to be the one that most looked like siblings, though there were similarities among most of the other tables, too.

Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, barbeque. There were no drink pitchers to fill their glasses, but Luke said, "Speak to them. Whatever you want—non-alcoholic, of course."

"Cherry Coke," Percy said, and the glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid.

Then, he said, "Blue Cherry Coke."

Naomi smiled a little in amusement as the soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.

Naomi opted for lemonade—a treat the nuns rarely let the kids drink. It tasted just as sweet as she remembered.

They filled their plates, and everybody started getting up, carrying their dishes toward the fire at the center of the pavilion.

"Come on," Luke told them.

As they drew closer to the fire, Naomi noticed everyone taking a portion of their meal and scraping it into the fire—the ripest strawberry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

Luke leaned down. "Burnt offerings for the gods," he explained. "They like the smell."

Percy blinked. "You're kidding."

Luke's expression warned that this wasn't something to be taken lightly. Still, Naomi wondered why gods would like the smell of burnt food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes."

Naomi was next.

She didn't know which god's name to say, but even if she did, she wasn't sure she would have even wanted to say it. She'd never considered herself to be a stubborn person, but this—praying to a parent who'd abandoned her from birth—made her want to refuse to make an offering just out of principle.

But she figured that wasn't a good idea.

I hope you had a good reason for abandoning me, she thought bitterly, throwing her roll into the fire.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating, Chiron pounded his hoof and called for everyone's attention.

Mr. D got up with a heaved sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd better say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin Five presently holds the laurels."

The burly, intimidating kids clustered around one table cheered loudly.

"Personally," Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have two new campers today. Peter Johnson and Nadia Murray."

Chiron muttered something.

"Er, Percy Jackson and Naomi Murphy," Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on."

Everybody cheered. They all headed down to the amphitheater, where the Apollo cabin led a sing-along. Everyone sang camp songs about the gods and ate toasted marshmallows and joked around. Naomi couldn't remember a night like this—surrounded by kids her age, singing and laughing without a nun shushing them or trying to force them to sing hymns instead.

It was a pleasant change.

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and everyone filed back to their cabins. Naomi hadn't realized how tired she was until she laid down in her stolen sleeping bag.

When she closed her eyes, sleep came instantly, and she dreamed of nothing but more days spent at Camp Half-Blood—her new home.

Over the next few days, Naomi and Percy settled into a semi-normal routine—one complete with satyrs, nymphs, a centaur, and Ancient Greek.

Every morning, Annabeth tutored Naomi and Percy in Ancient Greek. It was still weird to talk about the gods and goddesses in present tense, but Naomi was slowly adjusting—it wasn't really that different from talking about Jesus or capital-G God, though she was still trying to reconcile the two mythologies in her mind.

She was pretty sure this entire camp was pure blasphemy, so it was a good thing she'd never really believed in God in the first place.

Apparently, most demigods had dyslexia, which was due to the fact that their brains were hardwired for Ancient Greek instead of English. Obviously, Naomi had never been much of a reader in the first place, but after a few lessons, she didn't want to give up two words into Homer, so that was an improvement.

The rest of the day, they rotated through outdoor activities. Unfortunately, Chiron split them up half of the time, but fortunately, Naomi hadn't just been thrown into the lion's den with a bunch of strangers.

Lee, who'd helped heal her arm when she first arrived, had volunteered to try to teach her archery, which hadn't gone terribly—she'd actually hit the target... just, the outermost ring. And that was only one of ten shots—the other nine... well, suffice to say, the dryads weren't Naomi's biggest fans.

At least Lee was nice when he told her it was probably safe to count Apollo out of the running for who her godly parent was.

Wrestling was another no-go—it took about two seconds for Annabeth to pin her to the mat. She was surprisingly nice about it—maybe because she thought Naomi was prone to tears (which was only partially true) or maybe she was taking a bit of pity on her since she was a newbie, but either way, Naomi was glad she got away relatively bruise-free. Still, Naomi decided it probably wasn't a skill she needed to invest too much time—and embarrassment—in practicing.

There weren't really any skills Naomi was naturally good at. She didn't not have a green thumb, but she didn't have the special plant magic that Demeter and Dionysus kids had; she was relatively intelligent, but she looked nothing like the grey-eyed Athena kids, plus she kind of liked spiders (you could only get pranked so many times by bullies like Darren with surprise tarantulas before you got used to them, and besides, the googly-eyed ones were kind of cute). She also wasn't much of a tinkerer, which pretty much counted Hephaestus out, and there was no way she was a child of Ares with how terrified she was of Cabin Six and its head counselor, Clarisse.

Luckily for Naomi, Percy was in a similar boat. None of the campers seemed to know what to make of either of them.

Despite the question of who her godly parent was hanging over her head, Naomi loved camp. There had been months in the past when Naomi had been placed in an actual foster home, with foster parents and only a few foster siblings instead of the handful of nuns and rooms full of other orphans, but none of them had lasted. She'd been sure one of them might, after nearly a year there when she was eight, but... that one hadn't worked out in the end, either.

Out of every place she'd lived in, though, Camp Half-Blood was the first one that actually felt like home. She came to love the morning fog that settled over the beach, the smell of strawberries in the afternoon—even the weird noises from the monsters in the forest didn't frighten her the way they might have if she was back at St. Monica's.

Every day, she'd eat with Cabin Eleven, scrape part of her meal into the fire, and try not to curse whoever it was that was twiddling their thumbs up on Olympus instead of claiming her like she deserved—because after thirteen years of silence, was one simple sign too much to ask for?

Maybe it was. But whenever those thoughts got too heavy, Luke managed to bring her back to the surface, reminding her that, even if her godly parent never claimed her, she'd always have a home at Cabin Eleven, and a family at Camp Half-Blood.

Still, it was hard not to wonder what was taking them so long, or why they didn't want to claim her. Was she not good enough? Was she supposed to prove herself or something before they'd deign to acknowledge her existence?

What did she have to do to just be acknowledged?

Thursday afternoon was Naomi and Percy's first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from Cabin Eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be their instructor.

They started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. A few minutes in, it was clear that Naomi almost definitely wasn't a child of Ares, but she didn't do awful, so she was happy. She understood how to move and her reflexes were as good as any other demigod's.

Soon, they moved onto dueling in pairs.

"Chris, you take Naomi," Luke said. "Show her the ropes—and try not to send her to the infirmary like you sent Connor his first week."

Naomi looked up with wide eyes at her partner, who gave her a sheepish smile. "He's kidding."

One of the Stolls—Naomi couldn't tell them apart yet, despite the fact that they weren't even twins (Naomi had been shocked to learn that)—leaned over to tell her, "He's not kidding."

Chris pushed him away by his face, making the Stoll—Connor, Naomi guessed—sputter and stumble away.

"Don't worry," he said. "I only stabbed him because he was being annoying."

Before Naomi could question that, he lifted his sword. "Let's go!"

Naomi was proud to say she was holding her own pretty well against Chris, who was a couple years older and definitely more seasoned in sword-fighting. Still, it would be a long time before she was good enough to stand a chance of actually beating him—if she ever managed that.

She could tell he was going easy on her, though she would never complain—she was fine working on easy mode for now. As they dueled, Chris called out pointers, trying to help her correct her mistakes.

When Luke finally called a break, Naomi was tired but happy. She was sweaty and hot, which wasn't really a pleasant feeling, but she felt weirdly accomplished.

Percy, on the other hand, looked exhausted. "Yancy failed us," he grumbled, putting his sweaty head on Naomi's shoulder. "The mile was nothing compared to this. I'm going to die."

"I don't think Yancy was supposed to prepare us for sword-fighting," Naomi said. She handed him the rest of her ice-water, which he proceeded to pour over on his head instead of drink, because of course he did. She was just glad he didn't get any water on her.

"Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Percy doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo."

Percy grimaced.

"Good luck," Naomi whispered, shooting him a thumbs-up as she went to join the rest of the cabin members.

Luke told everyone that he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so they had no choice but to drop their weapon.

"This is difficult," Luke stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Percy, now. Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique."

He demonstrated the move on Percy in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of his hand.

"Now in real time," he said, after Percy retrieved his weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Percy?"

Percy nodded, and the match began. It wasn't as if Naomi had no faith in Percy, but she'd definitely expected Luke to disarm him right away, so she was surprised when Percy kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of his sword. The match felt less one-sided all of a sudden, with Percy countering and actually managing to fight back. Luke didn't have any trouble deflecting, but it was clear on his face he was just as surprised as Naomi.

Percy did the disarming maneuver Luke had just shown them, and sure enough—it worked.

Luke's sword rattled against the stones, the tip of Percy's blade only a couple of centimeters from his undefended chest.

Everyone fell silent.

Percy lowered his sword. "Uh, sorry."

For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Percy, why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

Percy looked reluctant, but Luke insisted. Only this time around, there was no contest. The moment their swords connected, Luke hit his hilt and sent Percy's weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, one of the Stolls said, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised Percy with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he said. "But I wonder what Percy could do with a balanced sword..."

Chapter 10: viii. capture the flag goes very (VERY) wrong

Chapter Text

FRIDAY NIGHT, after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, the time for capture the flag had arrived.

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and everyone stood at their tables.

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about three meters long, glistening grey, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her siblings ran in with another banner the same size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

Percy turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?"

"Not always," Luke said. "But often."

"So if another cabin captures one, what do you do—repaint the flag?" Percy asked.

Luke grinned. "You'll see. First we have to get one."

"Which team are we on?" Naomi asked.

Luke gave her a sly look, as if he was privy to information Naomi wasn't. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you two are going to help."

The teams were announced. Athena had made alliances with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Apparently, privileges had been traded—shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—in order to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everyone else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what Naomi had seen, Dionysus's kids were good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had their plant magic and were good with nature, but they didn't seem very aggressive. There were only four Hephaestus kids, but they were all pretty muscular from working in the metal shop all day. Aphrodite's kids seemed less interested in the game and more interested in talking, which Naomi kind of wished she could do instead, too, but alas.

Then, of course, there was the Ares cabin: a dozen of the biggest, meanest kids on Long Island.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound and gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, ox-hide shields coated in metal.

"Whoa," Percy said. "We're really supposed to use these?"

Luke looked at him like he was crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in Cabin Five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit. You and Naomi'll be on border patrol."

Luke handed Percy a shield with a caduceus in the middle, which he struggled to carry. Luckily—to Naomi, at least—she didn't need a shield, seeing as it was unlikely she'd even be able to lift any of the ones on hand. Luke just winked and told her to stay sharp, adjusting the blue-plumed helmet that was just a bit too big.

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

Everyone cheered and shook their weapons and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at them as they headed off toward the northern side of the forest.

It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed Percy and Naomi next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees.

"Well, this is fun," Percy muttered.

"It could be worse," Naomi said softly, reaching out a hand as a bumble-bee flew close by. "We could've been put on offense."

"At least then we'd be doing something."

The bumble-bee landed on the back of Naomi's hand, skittering up her wrist before flying onto her nose. She tried to look at her, crossing her eyes, which made Percy snort.

"Maybe your godly parent's the god of bees or something," he said.

"I hope not," Naomi muttered. "I actually like bees."

In the distance, the conch horn blew. Whoops and yells erupted from the woods, along with the clanking of metal and kids fighting. A blue-plumed ally from Apollo raced past Naomi and Percy like a deer, leaped over the creak, and disappeared into enemy territory.

"Show-off," Percy grumbled.

Naomi laughed, which startled the bumble-bee into flight once again.

Then, behind them, she heard something strange—like a low growl.

Percy must have heard it too, because he raised his sword, drawing closer to Naomi so they were standing side-by-side.

Then the growling stopped. The presence retreated.

On the other side of the creak, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark.

"Cream the punk!" Clarisse screamed.

She was glaring murderously through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a two-meter spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that really helped Naomi and Percy's chances of surviving.

They charged across the stream. There were no other blue-plumed demigods in sight. It was the two newbies against half of the Ares cabin.

In other words, they were screwed.

Naomi yelped in surprise, ducking under the sword that was this close to beheading her. It took an embarrassingly short amount of time—not even half a minute, sadly—for her to be disarmed and put into an inescapable headlock.

She wasn't sure what was worse—the pressure on her throat or the smell.

Percy only fared slightly better. In no time, the Ares cabin had him surrounded, and Clarisse thrust at him with her spear. Percy managed to deflect the point with his shield, but he fell back, and Naomi swore she smelled something burning underneath the B.O. she was all but choking on.

Seriously, did Ares kids not shower?

Another Ares kid slammed Percy in the chest with the butt of his sword and Percy hit the dirt.

"Give him a haircut," Clarisse jeered. "Grab his hair."

Percy managed to get to his feet. He raised his sword, but Clarisse slammed it aside with her spear as sparks flew.

"Oh, wow," Clarisse said. "I'm scared of this guy. Really scared."

"Leave him alone!" Naomi shouted, hoping they couldn't hear her voice shake, even though it was painfully obvious. "The flag is that way!"

"Aw, you need your little girlfriend to fight your battles for you?" Clarisse sneered.

The guy who had Naomi in a headlock snickered. "We don't care about the flag. We care about the guy who made our cabin look stupid."

"You do that without my help," Percy told them, which probably wasn't the best thing to say.

Two of the Ares kids went after him. Percy backed up toward the creek and tried to raise his shield, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck him straight in the rips. If it wasn't for his breastplate, he would've been shish-kebabed. One of Clarisse's cabinmates slashed his sword across Percy's arm, leaving a good-sized cut.

"No maiming," Percy managed.

"Oops," the guy said unapologetically. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege."

He pushed Percy into the creek, forcing him to land with a splash. All of the Ares kids laughed.

Then something strange happened.

Clarisse and her cabinmates—minus the guy still holding Naomi in a headlock, which was starting to get really annoying—came into the creek to get Percy, but he stood to meet them. Suddenly looking far more alert and ready than he should've been after Clarisse's hit, Percy swung the flat of his sword against the first guy's head and knocked his helmet clean off. He crumpled into the water.

Ares Kids Two and Three came at Percy. He slammed one in the face with his shield and used his sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quickly.

Headlock Guy let go of Naomi, pushing her to the ground for good measure before going to join the fight, but he didn't last very long before getting knocked aside, too.

Clarisse was a step ahead, the point of her spear crackling angrily. As soon as she thrust, Percy caught the shaft between the edge of his shield and his sword, and the spear snapped like a twig.

"Ah!" Clarisse screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacked her between the eyes with his sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then Naomi heard elated screams, and she saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat and a few Apollo kids behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse.

"A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick."

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. The blue team's side exploded into cheers as the red banner shimmered and turned silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge cadecus, the symbol of cabin eleven.

Everyone on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out of the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over, the blue team victorious.

Naomi pushed herself up off the ground as Annabeth's voice said, "Not bad, hero."

Naomi frowned, looking around. She couldn't see the blonde anywhere.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"You set me up," Percy said angrily, glaring at Annabeth. "You put us here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get me pulverized."

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but..." She shrugged again. "You didn't need help."

Then she looked at Percy's arm. "How did you do that?"

"Sword cut," Percy said. "What do you think?"

"No. It was a sword cut. Look at it."

Naomi frowned, following Annabeth's gaze.

There wasn't any blood on Percy arm. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As they watched, it turned into a small scar, then disappeared.

"I—I don't get it," Percy said.

Annabeth was thinking hard, her brow pinched together. Naomi could practically see the gears turning in her head. She looked down at Percy's feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Percy."

"What—?"

"Just do it."

Percy came out of the creek and almost immediately stumbled. He almost fell over, but Annabeth and Naomi steadied him.

"Oh, Styx," Annabeth cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want... I assumed it would be Zeus..."

Before Naomi could wonder what she meant, she heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl rippled through the forest.

The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek.

Annabeth drew her sword.

There on the rocks just above them was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

Naomi gasped, wondering for a second if Skia had found her again, but that question was answered instantly as the hound growled again. Where Skia had saved Naomi, this hound seemed hellbent on causing harm—and its eyes were trained on Percy.

Everyone seemed frozen in place, except for Annabeth, who yelled, "Percy, run!"

She tried to step in front of him, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over her and Naomi—an enormous shadow with teeth—and it hit Percy full-force, making him fall back.

Naomi wasn't sure why, or what good it would do, but she screamed, "Stop!"

Then, to everyone's shock—including her own—the beast froze.

Its red eyes trained on her instead, but where it had been glaring at Percy with a clear intent to kill, it now only watched her, not much different to how Skia had watched her in the alley.

Deciding to push her luck, Naomi said shakily, "Get off of him."

The beast, amazingly, obeyed. It got off of Percy's chest, tilting its head to the side as it continued to watch Naomi, like it was waiting.

Then, it started walking toward her.

Naomi wasn't sure if it was the shock or morbid curiosity, but as the beast advanced slowly toward her, everyone was frozen, just watching. Even she was frozen in place, her sword forgotten despite it still being in her hand.

The beast stopped less than a foot from her, so close she could feel its breath pushing her hair back. Behind her, she heard Annabeth's sharp inhale, but the majority of Naomi's focus was on the beast before her.

It wasn't Skia—that much was obvious. It didn't have any collar, and it looked a hundred times meaner than the beast that had saved Naomi. But, like Skia, it didn't seem intent on hurting her.

Her voice shaking, Naomi said, "You aren't supposed to be here."

The beast tilted its head again, like a confused dog.

Naomi swallowed her fear. "Go."

Then, for a reason Naomi couldn't begin to understand, the beast listened. It turned away, charging into the dark forest, and diving into the shadows, just like Skia.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Chiron trotted up to them, his face grim as he looked at Naomi.

"Di immortales," Annabeth said. "That was a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't... they're not supposed to..." She looked at Naomi, and for some reason, her expression was wary. "The night you got here, we heard a dog bark. Did you...?"

"Someone summoned the creature," Chiron said, cutting off Annabeth's question. "Someone inside the camp."

The campers' eyes all seemed to settle on Naomi at once.

Naomi stepped back, realizing what they all thought. "You... you think I summoned it? Why—?"

"She couldn't have summoned it, Chiron," Luke said, coming to Naomi's defense. "Not to attack her friend. And even if she had, why would she send it away before it could do its job?"

"More like how did she send it away?" someone from the crowd cut in.

Chiron sighed heavily. "I believe you may be right, Luke," he said, but his tone was still grave.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy must have summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron told her. He looked in the direction the beast had disappeared, then at Naomi once again, but there was no suspicion in his eyes. It was more like... grief.

"You're wounded," Annabeth told Percy, making everyone's attention shift to him. "Quick, Percy, get in the water."

"I'm okay," Percy argued.

"No, you're not," Annabeth said. "Chiron, watch this."

Percy decided not to argue. He stepped back into the creek, everyone gathering around to watch.

Then, like a lightbulb in a cartoon, a symbol materialized over Percy's head—a three-pronged spear, glowing a seawater-green, gleaming just a few inches above Percy.

"Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good."

"It is determined," Chiron announced.

All of the campers began to kneel, including the Ares cabin, who didn't look happy about it. Luke pulled Naomi down to do the same, his expression warning her to be quiet.

"My father?" Percy asked.

"Poseidon," Chiron said. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, son of the sea god."

The next morning, Percy moved into Cabin Three, and even in a cabin full of campers, Naomi had never felt so lonely.

Part of her envied Percy—his godly parent had claimed him. But a bigger part of her felt bad for her best friend. He'd been singled out barely a week after arriving at camp—now, it was like everyone was afraid of him.

Nobody mentioned the hellhound—at least, not when Naomi was around—but she knew they must have been talking about it in private. She'd tried to ask Chiron what had happened, but he'd only told her that he wasn't sure. She was sure he had an idea, but clearly, he wasn't keen on sharing his theory.

After the attack, the kids of Cabin Eleven started to distance themselves from Naomi. Luke told her not to worry about it—that they were just being paranoid, and what happened with the hellhound could've just been some bizarre coincidence.

But she saw the way he looked at her sometimes when he thought she wasn't paying attention—like she'd transformed from a simple jigsaw puzzle with about ten pieces to one with about two-thousand.

Instead of training with the rest of the Hermes cabin, Luke had taken to giving Naomi and Percy private lessons. Or, rather, Percy private lessons. He still trained Naomi, but it was clear most of his focus was on training Percy.

Annabeth continued to give Naomi and Percy lessons in Greek, but she seemed distracted. After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest... Poseidon?... Dirty rotten... Hellhounds? Seriously?... Got to make a plan..."

Worst of all—for Naomi, at least—it seemed Poseidon's decision to claim Percy hadn't done anything to encourage Naomi's to do the same. By now, she should have expected it, but that hadn't kept the hope from leaving her more disappointed than ever.

She just went on with her life, as clueless as ever to who her parents were, and whether they had ever even cared about her in the slightest.

Chapter 11: ix. percy gets accused of grand larceny

Summary:

Percy POV

Chapter Text

MR. D'S SUMMONS TO THE BIG HOUSE didn't surprise Percy in the slightest. Neither did his threats to turn him into a dolphin.

After the god disappeared into thin air, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes in his wake, Chiron smiled at Percy. "Sit, Percy, please. And Grover."

They sat, and Chiron laid his playing cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name made Percy shudder. He suspected Chiron wanted him to say something along the lines of, Heck, that was nothing, or I eat hellhounds for breakfast. But Percy didn't feel like lying.

"It scared me," he admitted. "If Naomi hadn't sent it away, I'd be dead." He looked at Chiron, taking note of the deceptively calm expression on the centaur's face. "How... how did she send it away?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Chiron said, though Percy wasn't sure how much he believed that. He'd seen the way Chiron had looked at her at the creek, the same way he tended to look at Percy since his father claimed him—like they'd both been saddled with awful, near-impossible destinies, and all Chiron could do was watch and pray they survived long enough to fulfill them. "It could have just been luck."

"You don't believe that," Percy said.

Chiron looked at him. "I want to," he said quietly. "If what she did the other day has anything to do with her godly parent... I fear she may be in more danger than even you."

Percy tensed. He didn't like the sound of that—the way everyone looked at him, it was like they were waiting for his tragic end. He didn't want Naomi to be in that position. She was his best friend, he didn't want her to get hurt—especially not because of some godly parent who still hadn't gotten around to claiming her in the first place.

"Unfortunately, you'll meet worse than the hellhound, Percy," Chiron told him. "Far worse, before you're done."

"Done... with what?"

"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?"

Percy glanced at Grover, who was crossing his fingers.

"Um, sir," Percy said, "you haven't told me what it is yet."

Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbled across the valley. The storm clouds had now reached the edge of the beach. As far as Percy could see, the sky and the sea were boiling together.

"Poseidon and Zeus," Percy said. "They're fighting over something valuable... something that was stolen, aren't they?"

Chiron and Grover exchanged looks.

Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

Percy's face grew hot. He wished he hadn't opened his mouth. "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth and she'd overheard something about a theft. And... I've also been having these dreams."

"I knew it," Grover said.

"Hush, satyr," Chiron ordered.

"But it's his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!"

"Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt."

Percy laughed nervously. "A what?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh."

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, getting worked up now. "The symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclops for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top of Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?" Percy asked.

"Stolen," Chiron said.

"By who?"

"By whom," Chiron corrected. Once a teacher, always a teacher. "By you."

Percy's mouth fell open.

"At least"—Chiron held up a hand—"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best,' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters,' et cetera. Afterwards, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't—"

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief."

"But I've never even been to Olympus!" Percy protested. "Zeus is crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting over the camp—they just rolled straight over the valley, sealing them in like the lid of a coffin.

"Uh, Percy...?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam." He looked expectantly at Percy, like he actually expected him to remember question thirty-eight.

How could anyone accuse him of stealing a god's weapon? He couldn't even steal a slice of pizza from Gabe's poker party without getting busted.

Chiron was waiting for an answer.

"Something about a golden net?" Percy guessed. "Poseidon and Hera and a few other gods... they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"

"Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw."

"But I'm just a kid!"

"Percy," Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

"But I didn't do anything," Percy insisted. "Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?"

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the sea god is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Percy?"

"Bad?" Percy guessed.

"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight."

"Bad," Percy repeated.

"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.

Percy felt sick. He had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of him. Percy was furious.

"So I have to find the stupid bolt," he said. "And return it to Zeus."

"What better peace offering," Chiron said, "than to have the son of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?"

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago... well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

Percy swallowed. "Good reason."

"You agree then?"

Percy looked at Grover, who nodded encouragingly.

East for him. He wasn't the one Zeus wanted to kill.

"All right," Percy said. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down—assuming you're still sane—we will talk more."

The mummy was, without a doubt, the creepiest thing Percy had ever seen.

Up in the attic, surrounded by old Greek hero junk, the propped-up corpse wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles.

Looking at her sent chills up Percy's back. And that was before she sat up on her stool and opened her mouth.

A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty-thousand snakes. Percy stumbled over himself trying to get to the trapdoor, but it slammed shut.

Inside his head, he heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around his brain: I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask.

Percy wanted to say, No thanks, wrong door, just looking for the bathroom. But he forced himself to take a deep breath.

The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around him in the green mist. But its presence didn't feel evil, like Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates he'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing him, either.

He got up the courage to ask, "What is my destiny?"

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of him and around the nearest table. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Percy's evil stepfather, Smelly Gabe, and his poker buddies.

Gabe turned towards Percy and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.

Gabe's buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice: You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely restored.

The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend.

Finally, Eddie, their building super, delivered the worst line of all: And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.

The figures began to dissolve. At first, Percy was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, he cried, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"

The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of old mementos.

Percy got the feeling that he could stand there until he had cobwebs, too, and he wouldn't learn anything more.

His audience with the Oracle was over.

"Well?" Chiron asked.

Percy slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."

Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important."

Percy's ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She... she said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned.

"I knew it," Grover said.

Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

Percy didn't want to tell him.

What friend would betray him? It wasn't like he had all that many.

And the last line—he would fail to save what mattered most. What kind of Oracle would send him on a quest and tell him, Oh, by the way, you'll fail. How could he tell Chiron that?

"No," he said. "That's about it."

Chiron studied his face. "Very well, Percy. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

Percy got the feeling Chiron knew he was holding something back, and he was trying to make Percy feel better.

"Okay," he said, anxious to change topics. "So where do I go? Who's this god in the west?"

"Ah, think, Percy," Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?" Percy guessed.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions."

Percy thought about his dreams—the evil voice that had spoken from under the ground. "Hades."

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy," Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades."

"Yes, but—but the Fury attacked Naomi, too. And Hades hates all heroes," Grover protested. "Especially if he's found out Percy is a son of Poseidon."

"A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a... a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before he can take on the quest."

"Great," Percy muttered. "That's two major gods who want to kill me."

"But a quest to..." Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

A strange fire burned in Percy's stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. Hades had tried to kill him three times so far, with the Fury, the Minotaur, and the hellhound. It was his fault Percy's mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he was trying to frame him and his dad for a theft they hadn't committed.

Percy was ready to take him on.

Besides, if his mother was in the Underworld...

Whoa, boy, said a small part of his brain that was still sane. You're a kid. Hades is a god.

Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

The poor guy needed to complete a quest with Percy so he could get his searcher's license—whatever that was. But how could Percy ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said he was destined to fail? This was suicide.

"Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads."

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same," Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades—and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt themselves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used."

"I'm saying it's no accident that Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."

Percy's dad needed him.

Emotions rolled around inside him like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. He didn't know whether to be resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored him for twelve years—twelve years of struggling through more schools than he had people who loved him; twelve years of the world's worst stepfather; twelve years of struggling to pay rent on crappy apartments. Twelve years where the god could have done something to help, yet he hadn't lifted a finger.

Now all of a sudden he needed Percy. What kind of cruel irony was that?

He looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's son all along, haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said... I've spoken to the Oracle, too."

Percy got the feeling there was a lot Chiron wasn't telling him about his prophecy, but he decided he couldn't worry about that right now. After all, he was hiding stuff, too.

"So let me get this straight," he said. "I'm supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron said.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check."

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

Percy looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.

"Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly.

"You don't have to go," Percy told him. "I can't ask that of you."

"Oh..." He shifted his hooves. "No... it's just that satyrs and underground places... well..."

He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his t-shirt. "You saved my life, Percy. If... if you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."

Percy felt so relieved he thought he might cry, though he doubted that would be very heroic. He wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but he felt better knowing his friend would be with him.

"It may be wise to take Miss Murphy as well," Chiron advised, which surprised Percy—and Grover, too, apparently.

"Chiron, are you sure?" Grover asked warily. "Is that a good idea?"

Percy frowned. "Wait, why wouldn't it be a good idea?"

Chiron gave Grover a look that said without words, Quiet. To Percy, he managed a grim smile. "Naomi, I believe, may be the key to your success in the Underworld... or your demise."

Percy blinked. Something heavy settled at the bottom of his stomach, and the Oracle's voice echoed in his mind.

You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend.

No, Percy decided, cutting that train of thought off before it could fully form. Naomi would never betray me.

But the look in Chiron's eyes made him wonder if he could ever be completely certain of that.

He swallowed. "So, where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west."

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America."

"Where?"

Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

"Oh," Percy said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—"

"No!" Grover shrieked. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

Percy shook his head, a bit embarrassed.

"Percy, think," Chiron said. "You are the son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you on an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive."

Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed, as if to say, What he said!

"Okay," Percy said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland."

"That's right," Chiron said. "Three companions may accompany you. Grover is one. So is Naomi, as long as she agrees. The third has already volunteered, if you will accept her help."

"Gee," Percy said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?"

The air shimmered behind Chiron. Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," Percy grumbled. "I suppose you have a plan, Wise Girl?"

Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth was, Percy did. He needed all the help he could get.

"Four mortals versus the god of the dead," he said. "That'll work."

"Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."

Chapter 12: x. naomi and co. set off on their killer quest (and blow up a bus... oops)

Chapter Text

NAOMI WAS MORE THAN A LITTLE SHOCKED when Percy grabbed her from the arts and crafts building and asked her to go on a quest to retrieve a stolen lightning bolt from the Underworld with him, Grover, and Annabeth.

But it wasn't like she had any better plans, so she of course said yes.

Luke helped her pack. She didn't exactly have much to her name, but he acquired—legally or illegally, Naomi decided it was better not to ask—a backpack full of basic travel supplies (toothbrush, deodorant, etc.) and an extra change of clothes, plus a sheath for her sword (which she still wasn't all that confident wielding, but it wasn't like she could get in any more training before their afternoon departure for certain death).

Once she was all packed up, Luke patted her shoulder. "You're gonna do great, Naomi," he reassured her. "Just keep your eyes sharp—and remember who your friends are, okay?"

Naomi nodded, though it was impossible to quell the nerves that had taken root in her stomach. And then she was off to Half-Blood Hill with her quest-mates.

Chiron gave each of the half-bloods a flash of nectar and an airtight bag full of ambrosia squares, in case of serious injury. It was god food, Chiron reminded them. It could cure them of just about any injury, but it was lethal to mortals, and too much would be lethal for half-bloods, too.

The camp store had loaned Percy some mortal money, along with twenty golden drachmas the size of Girl Scout cookies. Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she said was a birthday present from her mother, Athena, along with a book of famous classical architecture (written in Ancient Greek, naturally) and her bronze knife, which she tucked into her shirt-sleeve. Grover wore his fake feet and trousers to pass as human, plus a green rasta-style cap to hide his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on, and in his pocket was a set of reed pipes.

The four questers waved goodbye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be a girl.

Yeah, Naomi hadn't gotten the full story on that, and she wasn't quite sure how much of it she actually wanted to know.

Chiron was waiting for them in his wheelchair. Next to him stood a stereotypical-looking surfer dude—if surfer dudes were known for having eyes all over their bodies.

According to Grover, he was the head of camp security, but today he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform.

"This is Argus," Chiron told them. "He will drive you into the city and, uh, well, keep an eye on things."

Footsteps sounded behind them.

Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you."

Annabeth blushed, though Naomi wasn't sure why.

"Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. "And I thought... um, maybe you could use these."

He handed him the sneakers, which didn't look like anything special.

Then Luke said, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling Percy so much that he dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days..." His expression turned sad.

"Hey, man," Percy said. "Thanks."

"Listen, Percy..." Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just... kill some monsters for me, okay?"

They shook hands. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, squeezed Naomi's shoulder, and then gave a goodbye hug to Annabeth, who looked lightheaded.

After Luke was gone, Percy said, "You're hyperventilating."

"Am not," Annabeth said, glaring at him.

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"

"Oh... why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?"

She stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys.

Percy picked up the flying shoes. He looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Percy. But taking to the air... that would not be wise for you."

Percy nodded, looking a little disappointed. Then he looked at Grover. "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes lit up. "Me?"

Pretty soon Grover was laced up in his new flying kicks, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch.

"Maia!" he shouted.

He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice," Chiron called after him. "You just need practice!"

"AAAAA!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van.

Naomi winced, running after him and leaving Chiron and Percy to their goodbyes.

Argus drove them out of the countryside and into western Long Island.

"So far so good," Percy said. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

Annabeth gave him an irritated look. "It's bad luck to talk that way, Seaweed Brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look... we're not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time he assaulted one of Athena's priestesses right in her temple. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives."

"Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand."

"I said, forget it!"

Traffic slowed them down in Queens. By the time they got into Manhattan, the sun was setting and it was starting to rain.

Argus dropped them off at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from Percy's old apartment and St. Monica's Orphanage. Naomi tried not to think about just how close—she'd much rather forget that place had ever existed.

If she survived this quest, hopefully she'd get her wish and never have to set foot in that place ever again.

Argus unloaded their bags, made sure they got their bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch them as he pulled out of the parking lot.

And just like that, they were on their own.

The rain didn't stop.

They got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was scary good. She could bounce the apple off her knee, her elbow, her shoulder. Naomi barely managed to keep it off the ground.

The game ended when Percy tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, the Hacky Sack disappeared—core, step, and all.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy were too busy cracking up.

Finally, the bus arrived. As they stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"I don't know," he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing."

But Naomi could tell it wasn't nothing just by the tone of his voice.

She was relieved when they finally got on board and found seats together at the back of the bus. They stowed their backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap against her thigh anxiously.

As the last passengers got on, Annabeth tensed. "Percy."

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried one of those big paisley purses all PTA moms seemed to have.

When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered.

Mrs. Dodds. She looked older and more withered, but it was definitely her.

Percy scrunched down in his seat, pulling Naomi down with him.

Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers.

Great.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

The bus pulled out of the station and headed through the slick streets of Manhattan.

"She didn't stay dead long," Percy noted shakily. "I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're lucky," Annabeth said. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay," Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem. No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

Naomi tried to lift the one on her right. "It won't open."

"A back exit?" Annabeth suggested.

There wasn't one, and even if there was, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, they were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"They won't attack us with witnesses around," Percy said. "Will they?"

"Mortals don't have good eyes," Annabeth reminded him. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

Annabeth thought about it. "Hard to say. But we can't count on the mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof...?"

They hit the Lincoln Tunnel, the bus going dark save for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the restroom."

"So do I," said the second sister.

"So do I." There was the third.

They all started coming down the aisle.

"I've got it," Annabeth said. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?"

"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away."

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," Annabeth said. "You're a son of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering."

"I can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover said. "Go!"

Percy looked like he'd rather do anything else, but he took the Yankees cap and put it on, disappearing into thin air.

"Keep your head down," Annabeth whispered to Naomi. "Try not to let Mrs. Dodds see your face, in case she recognizes you."

"Got it," Naomi whispered with a grimace.

Naomi felt like she'd just transported directly into a horror movie as the seconds passed like minutes. For a terrifying moment, Mrs. Dodds stopped in the middle of the aisle, sniffing, but she and her sisters moved on.

And then the plan fell apart as the demon grandmothers suddenly wailed, transforming into their hideous true selves—shriveled old hags with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surrounded Naomi, Grover, and Annabeth, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They were definitely seeing something.

"He's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "He's gone!"

The Furies raised their whips.

Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it. With shaking hands, Naomi drew her sword out of its sheath.

And then the bus lurched to the left.

"Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

"What is he doing?" Annabeth hissed, gripping the front of the seat in front of her like a seat-bar on a rollercoaster.

"Something reckless," Naomi guessed.

"You think?"

The bus careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

Somehow the driver found an exit, and they shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads that drove through a bunch of nothing. There were woods to their left, the Hudson river to the right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river.

And then the bus wailed, spun in a full circle, and crashed into the trees on their left. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open.

And, of course, the Furies regained their balance.

They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. Naomi just gripped her sword and hoped she'd have the stomach to kill one of the monsters if it came down to it.

"Hey!"

Percy materialized at the front of the bus, drawing the Furies' attention. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle toward him, red flames dancing along the barbed leather of her whip.

Her sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled forward like huge, nasty lizards.

"Perseus Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

"I liked you better as a math teacher," Percy told her.

She growled.

Naomi followed Annabeth's lead as they moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening.

Percy pulled out a pen. When he uncapped it, a sword burst to life in his hand.

The Furies hesitated.

"Submit now," Mrs. Dodds hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

"Nice try," Percy said.

"Percy, look out!" Annabeth cried.

Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around Percy's sword hand while the Furies on either side lunged.

With better reflexes than Naomi even knew she had, she planted a foot on one of the bus seats and jumped into the seat behind the Fury on the left. She slashed the blade of her sword through the hag's neck, yelping in surprise when she exploded into dust.

How long would it take her to get used to that?

Percy had taken down the Fury on the right, and Annabeth and Grover were in the process of tying Mrs. Dodds with her own whip. She kicked, clawed, hissed, and bit, but finally, they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

"Braccas meas vescimini!" Percy yelled.

Naomi looked at him incredulously. "Did you just tell our math teacher to eat your pants?"

"I think so!"

Thunder shook the bus.

"Get out!" Annabeth yelled. "Now!"

No other encouragement was needed.

They rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die." A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped Percy's photograph before he could recap his pen-sword.

"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told them Mrs. Dodds wasn't dead yet.

"Run!" Annabeth said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

They plunged into the woods as rain poured down, the bus in flames behind them and nothing but darkness ahead.

Naomi really wished she had a raincoat. The rain hadn't let up since they left Manhattan, and Naomi wondered if they'd be blinking raindrops out of their eyes the entire quest. With their luck, they probably would be.

The four miraculously intact questers walked through the woods on the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind them, the smell of the Hudson reeking in their noses.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes slit-pupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once."

Percy seemed to be in just as much shock, and Naomi wasn't doing much better. Luckily, Annabeth kept pulling them along, saying, "Come on! The further away we get, the better."

"All our money was back there," Percy said. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"

"You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine."

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover put in, "but fine."

"Shut up, goat boy," Annabeth said.

Grover bayed mournfully. "Tin cans... a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

Naomi patted his arm comfortingly. "I'm sure we'll find a recycling bin somewhere."

They sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry, and over gnarled roots poking out of the earth to try to trip them up. Despite Naomi's earlier pessimistic thinking, the thunderstorm eventually let up. The city glow faded behind them, leaving them in almost total darkness.

Naomi had always liked the dark, strangely. She could see fairly well in it, and she'd never been the kind of kid to beg for a nightlight (not that the nuns would've gotten her one if she was). The darkness wasn't scary when you'd suffered more in the light than you'd ever suffered in the dark.

After a few more minutes of walking, Naomi jumped at the sudden, shrill toot-toot-toot that sounded from beside her, like an owl was being tortured.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. "If I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!"

He puffed out a few notes, but the tune sounded more like a pop song than some kind of nature-magic tune.

Instead of finding a path, Percy walked into a tree.

Naomi winced as he tripped and cursed, slipping to the front of the group to lead the way—avoiding the trees.

Chapter 13: xi. naomi hates garden gnomes

Chapter Text

AFTER ABOUT A MILE OF WALKING, Naomi started to see neon lights up ahead.

They kept walking until they saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed-down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 90s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light.

It was one of those roadside shops that sell lawn flamingos and all sorts of animal statues to decorate a garden. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible to read, and just trying gave Naomi the beginning of a headache.

"What the heck does that say?" Percy asked.

"I don't know," Annabeth said.

Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium."

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes—ugly bearded runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

"Ew," Naomi muttered.

"You don't like gnomes?" Annabeth asked.

"They're creepy," Naomi said. "Of course I don't like them."

Annabeth sighed. "Just don't look at them. They're probably not real."

Naomi stared at her, terrified. "Probably?"

Percy crossed the street.

"Hey..." Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside," Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open."

"Snack bar," Percy said wistfully.

"Snack bar," Annabeth agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird."

Percy and Annabeth ignored him.

"Nay?" Grover asked hopefully.

Naomi shrugged, following the two half-bloods. "We need to eat, Grover."

The front garden was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

They stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans," Percy reminded him.

"Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are... looking at me."

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of them was a tall woman dressed in a long black gown and veil that covered every part of her but her face and hands.

"Children, it is too late to be out all alone," the woman said. "Where are your parents?"

"They're... um..." Annabeth started to say.

"We're orphans," Naomi said.

"Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded strange in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"We got separated from our bus, ma'am," Naomi said, trying to be as polite as possible. She'd learned from a young age that manners could get you far when it came to adults, especially the elderly. "Sister Agnes told us to meet them at the gas station if we got lost, but she may have forgotten, or she may have meant a different gas station."

"Anyway, we're lost," Percy cut in. "Is that food I smell?"

Naomi bit back a sigh. Very mannerly.

Luckily, though, the woman seemed more like the warm, candy-providing grandma as opposed to a back-in-my-day kind of grandma. "Oh, my dears," she said. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

They thanked her and went inside.

"Good improv, Murphy," Annabeth muttered to her. "Where'd you come up with that?"

Naomi shrugged. "Wasn't hard. Sister Agnes always had trouble keeping track of all of us. Someone got left beyond every time we left the orphanage."

Annabeth blinked. "Wait, Sister Agnes is real?"

"Unfortunately," Naomi grumbled.

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all sorts of different poses, wearing different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. They were all life-size, so Naomi figured the usual clientele had pretty impressive gardens if they could fit these decorations in.

At the back of the warehouse, a fast-food counter with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. Everything a hungry half-blood could want, plus a few picnic tables out front.

"Please, sit down," Aunt Em said.

"Awesome," Percy said.

"Um," Grover spoke up, "we don't have any money, ma'am."

"No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

"Thank you, ma'am," Annabeth said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly.

"Quite all right, Annabeth," she said. "You have such beautiful grey eyes, child."

As the hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking, Naomi fought a visible frown. She was starving, just like her companions, but something felt... off. Call her a too-young cynic, but people weren't usually this... nice. She'd grown a healthy level of suspicion of every adult she encountered over the years, and Aunty Em gave off bad vibes.

With how freaked Grover was acting, Naomi had to wonder if there really was something sinister about this kind-seeming old woman.

Before they knew it, Aunty Em brought them plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

As they ate, Grover still looked troubled. "What's that hissing noise?"

Naomi frowned, trying to listen. She couldn't hear anything.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears."

"That's admirable," she said. "But please, relax."

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her headdress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers, watching them eat. Naomi had always hated being watched while she ate—it was unsettling, especially when the person watching already made her feel nervous.

"So, you sell gnomes," Percy said, clearly trying to make small talk.

"Oh, yes," Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know?"

"Do you get a lot of business on this road?" Naomi asked politely, picking at the fries.

"Not so much, no," Aunty Em answered. "Since the highway was built... most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get."

Naomi's unsettled feeling doubled, as if she was being watched. She turned, taking note of the statue closest to them—a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, but there was something wrong with her face. She looked startled—terrified, even.

"Ah," Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creatures do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company."

Annabeth stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I was attacked, and rather than try to help me, this bad woman... she caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

Maybe Naomi should have felt bad for her, but that something off Naomi had been feeling about the woman had doubled again.

From Percy's other side, Annabeth met Naomi's eyes, her expression suddenly tense. Naomi didn't know her well enough to really read her, but the unspoken message in her eyes was clear: We need to go.

Naomi shook Percy's arm, trying to get his attention. "Percy, maybe we should go. I mean, Sister Agnes will be waiting."

"Such beautiful grey eyes," Aunty Em told Annabeth for a second time. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen grey eyes like those."

She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly.

"Naomi's right, we really should go."

"Yes!" Grover swallowed the wax paper he'd been snacking on and stood up. "Sister Agatha is waiting! Right!"

"Please, dears," Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

Annabeth shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, guys—"

"Sure we can," Percy said. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"

"Yes, Annabeth," the woman purred. "No harm."

Only Percy seemed entirely willing, but without another plan, Annabeth, Grover, and Naomi were forced to follow Aunty Em as they led them back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed them to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now," she said. "I'll just position you correctly. The girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," Percy remarked.

"Oh, enough," Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Um, ma'am," Naomi spoke up nervously. "Where's your camera?"

Aunty Em stepped back as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me, please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."

"Grover," Aunty Em chastised, her voice sharp like Sister Agnes's, "look this way, dear."

She still didn't have a camera.

"Percy—" Annabeth said.

"It will just be a moment," Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil..."

"Guys, something's wrong," Annabeth insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That is Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" Annabeth shouted. She whipped her Yankees cap on to her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed her companions off the bench.

Naomi scrambled to stand back up, grabbing Percy's arm as he just sat there. "Percy, come on!"

Then she heard a strange, rasping sound above them.

Oh no.

Naomi could only recall a handful of Greek myths off the top of her head, but she was pretty sure she knew enough about this one to know they were screwed.

She saw Percy starting to look up, and she scrambled to clamp a hand over his eyes, cutting off his vision as she closed her own eyes. "Don't look at her!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above them, from... from about where Aunty Em's head would be.

Yep, Naomi decided. Definitely Medusa.

"Run!" Grover bleated. She heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kickstart his flying sneakers.

Naomi felt a clawed hand snag her wrist, yanking it away from Percy's eyes so hard something pulled and she yelped in pain, but she kept her eyes shut tightly. "Don't look at her, Percy!"

"Such a pity to destroy a handsome young face," Medusa said soothingly. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

"Don't!" Naomi shouted.

That same clawed hand shoved her backward, and she skidded painfully across the gravel. She bit back a groan, slowly opening her eyes. She kept her gaze on the ground, careful not to look anywhere near Medusa's face.

"The Grey-Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."

"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted from next to Naomi, and an invisible pair of hands frantically helped her back to her feet. "Run, Percy!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She's my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."

"No," Percy muttered.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

"Percy!" From a few feet away, Naomi heard a buzzing sound, like a ninety-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!"

Naomi looked, and there the satyr was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering—Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone.

"Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her."

That finally jolted Percy into action. He dove to one side, nearly tackling Naomi out of her own hiding spot as Grover swung, hitting Medusa square in the jaw.

Medusa roared with rage. "You miserable satyr," she snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

Grover swooped down for another pass. Ker-whack!

"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.

Right next to them, Annabeth's voice said, "Percy!"

Percy jumped so high his feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!"

Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible once more. "You have to cut her head off."

"What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but..." Annabeth swallowed, as if she was about to make a difficult admission. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance."

"What? I can't—"

"Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?"

Annabeth pointed to a pair of statue lovers, a man and a woman with their arms around each other, turned to stone by the monster.

Annabeth grabbed a gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better." She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection size should be off by a factor of—"

"Would you speak English?" Percy asked.

"I am!" Annabeth tossed him the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above them. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

"Hurry," Annabeth told Percy. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash."

Percy took out his pen and uncapped it, the bronze sword elongating in his hand.

Naomi looked at Annabeth. "How confident are you that he can do this?"

"Realistically? Like, fifty-five-percent confident," Annabeth answered.

"That's generous."

Annabeth grimaced. "I know."

As Grover came down for another turn at bat, Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off-course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

"Hey!" Percy yelled as Medusa got ready to lunge.

He advanced on the monster, and she let him—ten meters, five meters. He looked at her through the reflection of the gazing ball, grimacing to himself.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," Medusa crooned. "I know you wouldn't."

Percy hesitated.

"Percy, don't listen to her!" Naomi shouted.

Medusa cackled. "Too late."

She lunged with her talons.

Percy slashed up with his sword, catching Medusa right in the neck. There was a sickening shlock!, then the monster hissed angrily, dissolving into yellow dust.

Everything except her head.

"I'm gonna be sick," Naomi muttered.

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but he must have heard Medusa's gory death. "Mega-yuck."

Annabeth walked over to Percy and the Medusa head, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. "Don't move."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

Nasty.

"Are you okay?" she asked Percy, her voice trembling.

"Yeah," Percy said after a moment. "Why didn't... why didn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war," Annabeth explained. "Same as your Minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

Naomi helped Grover back to his feet—well, hooves, seeing as his fake feet and flying sneakers had been knocked off and were now flying aimlessly around his head.

"The Red Baron," Percy said. "Good job, man."

Grover managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun."

He snatched his shoes out of the air. Percy recapped his sword. Together, the four questers stumbled back to the warehouse.

They found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. They plopped it on the table where they'd just eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

Finally, Percy said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

Annabeth flashed him an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Poseidon assaulted Medusa right in Athena's temple. Medusa and her sisters were turned into the three gorgons."

"Wait, so Athena punished Medusa?" Naomi asked. "What'd she do to Poseidon?"

Annabeth looked uncomfortable. "She couldn't do anything to him. I don't know why she cursed Medusa, but she couldn't just let it all go. Some people think Athena did it to protect them from other men."

Naomi glanced at the plastic-wrapped head. "I don't think Medusa would agree."

"Whatever," Annabeth said, still looking uncomfortable. "It's Poseidon's fault Medusa was cursed in the first place, and it's Percy's fault we all almost got turned into statues."

Percy narrowed his eyes at her. "It's my fault?"

Annabeth straightened. In an imitation of Percy's voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?'"

Naomi snorted, immediately trying to stifle it as Percy narrowed his eyes at her.

"Forget it," he said, returning his glare to Annabeth. "You're impossible."

"You're insufferable."

"You're—"

"Can we please go an hour without you two fighting?" Naomi practically begged. "It's exhausting. Just because your parents hate each other doesn't mean you have to."

"Seriously," Grover agreed. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?"

Percy stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!

He got up. "I'll be back."

"Percy," Annabeth called after him. "What are you—?"

Percy disappeared without another word.

"Is he always this annoying?" Annabeth grumbled.

"Cut him some slack, Annabeth," Grover all but pleaded.

Annabeth sighed. "How do you put up with him?" she asked, this time looking at Naomi.

Naomi shrugged. "He's my best friend."

"Right." She sighed again. She looked at Grover, then said quietly, "There's something strange going on. You feel it too, right?"

Grover grimaced. "Yeah," he agreed. "The Furies—"

"It was like they were holding back," Annabeth said. "And they were asking, 'Where is it?' Not 'Where is he?'"

Naomi frowned. "What are you guys talking about?"

Before either one of them could answer, Percy returned to the table with a cardboard box, money, and packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express. He said nothing as he packed up Medusa's head and filled out a delivery slip:

The Gods

Mount Olympus

600th Floor,

Empire State Building

New York, NY

With best wishes, PERCY JACKSON

"Um," Naomi said, "is that a good idea?"

"Not even a little," Annabeth said, but to Naomi's surprise, she didn't try to stop him.

"They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."

Percy poured some golden drachmas into the pouch attached to the packing slip. As soon as he closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!

"I am impertinent," Percy said.

He looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize.

She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that Percy had an innate talent for pissing off the gods.

"Come on," she muttered. "We need a new plan."

They were pretty miserable that night.

They camped out in the woods, a hundred meters from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

They'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but they didn't dare light a fire to dry their damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. They didn't want to attract anything else.

They decided to sleep in shifts. Percy volunteered to take first watch.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Naomi had never been able to fall asleep that easily, and after the evening they'd had, it would take a little while for the adrenaline to wear off. For now, she sat with her back against a tree trunk, shoulder-to-shoulder with Percy.

Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of the tree Naomi and Percy were resting against, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

"Go ahead and sleep," Percy told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble."

Grover nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, Percy."

"What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?"

"No. This makes me sad." He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

"Oh, yeah," Percy said. "I guess you'd be an environmentalist."

Grover flared at him. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast... ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan."

"Pam? Like cooking spray?"

"Pan!" Grover cried indignantly. "P-A-N. The great god Pan! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and much. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rainwater, things that might've once been in these woods.

Naomi blinked slowly, suddenly nostalgic for something she'd never known.

That was how she finally fell asleep—to the fleeting smell of nature, and the sound of her two best friends talking.

When Naomi woke, there was a pink poodle in their camp.

She blinked, lifting her head off of the boney pillow that was Percy's shoulder, squinting at the new edition to their group as she tried to figure out if she was hallucinating.

"Am I still dreaming?" Naomi asked, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles.

"Morning," Annabeth said, tossing a bag of sour-cream-and-onion chips into Naomi's lap. "Grover found a friend."

"I see," Naomi said slowly, accidentally engaging in a staring contest with the pink poodle. She looked away first, not keen on trying to out-Alpha the tiny canine. Small dogs tended to overcompensate with meanness, and she was too tired to deal with that at the moment. "Um, does your friend have a name?"

"Naomi, meet Gladiola," Grover said. "Gladiola, meet Naomi."

Naomi hesitated. "Hi... Gladiola."

The poodle parked, and Grover smiled. "She says hi."

Annabeth shook Percy awake, which took a couple tries. When he finally opened his eyes, she said, "Well, the zombie lives."

Percy looked shaken. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast," Annabeth said, tossing another bag of chips at him. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

The poodle yapped at Percy suspiciously. Grover said, "No, he's not."

Percy blinked. "Are you... talking to that thing?"

The poodle growled.

"This thing," Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

Grover ignored the question. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

Percy looked from Annabeth to Naomi, as if waiting for one of them to tell him it was all a big practical joke.

No dice.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," Percy said. "Forget it."

"Percy," Annabeth said. "Naomi and I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

The poodle growled.

Percy said hello to the poodle.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation, naturally. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a 200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" Percy asked.

"He read the signs," Grover said. "Duh."

"Of course," Percy said. "Silly me."

"So we turn in Gladiola," Annabeth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

"Not another bus," Percy said warily.

"No," Annabeth agreed.

She pointed downhill, toward train tracks Naomi hadn't noticed before. "There's an Amtrack station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."

Chapter 14: xii. frightening theories & cosmic jokes

Chapter Text

THEY TOOK THE AMTRAK TRAIN WEST—through the hills, over rivers, past amber waves of grain. Naomi had never left New York before, but the novelty the new sights might have had was lost in the frightening reason she was even seeing them in the first place. She was on a quest to retrieve a deadly weapon and prevent a war between the gods.

Sight-seeing was the least of her concerns.

They weren't attacked once, but Naomi wasn't foolish enough to relax. She figured it was only a matter of time before something noticed them and decided to ruin the tiny sliver of peace they'd acquired on their quest.

Contributing the complete lack of relaxation was the fact that Percy's name and likeness were now splattered over the front pages of several East Coast newspapers. The Trenton Register-News showed a picture taken by a tourist as he got off the Greyhound bus. He had a wild look in his eyes. His sword was a metallic blur in his hands—it could've been a baseball bat or a lacrosse stick.

The picture's caption read:

Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly female passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with three teenage accomplices. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture.

"Don't worry," Annabeth told him. "Mortal police could never find us." But she didn't sound too sure.

Their reward money for returning Gladiola the poodle had only been enough to purchase tickets as far as Denver, Colorado. They couldn't get berths in the sleeper car, so they dozed in their seats.

At some point, Naomi managed to fall asleep, dreaming of nothing (which, really, she wasn't complaining about—her dreams were rarely pleasant, even before she discovered that mythological monsters existed and wanted to eat her for dinner if given the chance).

When she woke up, the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, coloring the train car in golden hues. Percy and Grover were passed out, and only Annabeth was awake. Her Ancient Greek architecture book was open on her lap, but she wasn't reading it—she was staring out of the window, worrying her camp necklace between her fingers.

"Where are we?" Naomi asked quietly, rubbing her eye with the sleeve of her jacket—a hand-me-down from one of the Hermes girls.

"We passed the sign for Illinois an hour ago," Annabeth answered.

Naomi frowned, trying to figure out how far that put them from Colorado. She'd never been great with geography, but she was fairly certain they still had a few decent-sized states to go. "Did I miss anything?"

Annabeth looked at Percy, frowning slightly. "I think he wants to try to barter with Hades for his mom's life," she said softly.

Naomi thought back to the Greek myths she could remember. She knew there were a few about heroes trying to retrieve the dead from the Underworld, but she couldn't recall any that had happy endings.

"I get it," she murmured, drawing her legs up onto the seat. "Sally didn't deserve to die."

"You knew her?" Annabeth asked.

Naomi nodded. "I went over a few times over school breaks whenever Percy's stepdad was out," she said. "Sally was always nice to me. Nicer than the nuns, anyway."

"So, you were raised in a Catholic orphanage?" Annabeth asked, closing her book. "Your whole life?"

"I lived in a few foster homes when I was in elementary school, but none of them panned out," Naomi explained quietly. "One of them almost did, but..." She trailed off. She didn't like thinking about that house.

"You don't know anything about your mortal parent?" Annabeth asked. "They didn't leave a note or anything?"

"Just a sticky note with my name," Naomi muttered, picking at the torn fabric of her jeans—also hand-me-downs. "They didn't even give me a last name—the nuns just picked one out of the phonebook at random. Why?"

Annabeth shrugged, but her expression wasn't exactly nonchalant. "If they left something, it might have pointed toward who your godly parent was," she explained. "Or at least, it could've narrowed it down a little."

Naomi laid her chin on her knees, looking at Annabeth. "Do you have any theories?"

Annabeth hesitated, shifting her gaze back to the window. "No," she said.

Naomi knew she was lying. "You do," she said, sitting up straighter. "What are they?"

Annabeth took a moment to answer. "It's just one theory," she said.

"Well, what is it?" Naomi asked. "Who do you think it is?"

"I..." Annabeth looked worried. "If I'm right, Naomi, it's bad news. You'd be more screwed than Percy is—and that's saying something."

"Annabeth, who?" Naomi insisted. "Who do you think it is?"

Annabeth couldn't seem to get the words out. Naomi was on the edge of her seat—both literally and figuratively—waiting to hear her theory. If her godly parent didn't want to claim her outright, maybe Annabeth had an idea of who they were. And maybe if Naomi figured it out, they'd have no choice but to finally claim her and end the suspense.

"Please," Naomi pleaded. "I have a right to know who my parent is."

"I don't know for sure," Annabeth maintained. "I could be wrong—I hope I'm wrong."

Naomi waited, pleading with her eyes for Annabeth to come out with it. She'd never had much luck using puppy-dog eyes with the nuns, but they proved more effective on Annabeth.

The blonde sighed heavily, and Naomi waited with bated breath.

"I... I think it might be Hades," Annabeth said, her voice low. "That's my theory."

Naomi blinked. She sat back, a pit forming in her stomach. "Hades... the god who stole the lightning bolt," she said quietly. "You... you think he's my father?"

"It would make sense," Annabeth said quietly. "The way the hellhound obeyed you back at camp, and the fact that another one saved you and brought you to camp in the first place. With the Big Three's oath, maybe Hades left you at the orphanage to keep you a secret. If Zeus and Poseidon knew he'd broken the oath, too, who knows what they would do. It could be a disaster."

"That's why he hasn't claimed me," Naomi whispered. "He wants to keep me a secret."

"Maybe he's trying to protect you," Annabeth suggested, though she didn't sound very confident. "If he claimed you, his brothers would have a fit."

Naomi almost scoffed. "Protect me?" she repeated. "If he wanted to protect me, he wouldn't have left me at St. Monica's. He wouldn't have let me get placed in that house, he wouldn't have—" She choked on her words. Her vision grew blurry as tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away. "He's never done anything to protect me. Why would he start now?"

"Naomi." In the short time Naomi had known her, Annabeth had never been a necessarily comforting presence, but now she seemed to be putting in an effort. "I could be wrong. It could be a minor god, like—like Hecate, or Thanatos. They're both connected to the Underworld. That could explain being able to order hellhounds."

"Do you really believe that?" Naomi asked.

"I... I want to," Annabeth murmured. "If he's really your father... we're all in trouble."

Naomi shifted her gaze to the dirty floor of the train, fighting the urge to either yell or scream. It wasn't fair. Maybe fairness didn't exist for demigods, but this felt like too cruel of a cosmic joke, even for gods.

An entire life spent wondering who her parents were, and now she learned one of them might be an evil god of the dead who wanted to start a war and kill her best friend in the process?

She could practically hear those old ladies from the fruit stand laughing at her, knitting their socks and cutting their strings of fate.

"Great," Naomi muttered, laying her cheek on her knee to stare out of the window, wishing for a fleeting moment that she'd wake up in her lumpy bed in St. Monica's, and all of this would prove to be some elaborate dream.

But she wouldn't—she couldn't. The universe had dealt her a crappy hand, and there was nothing she could do but play it as best as she could.

Toward the end of their second day on the train, June thirteenth—eight days before the summer solstice—they passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis.

Annabeth craned her neck to see the Gateway Arch, her eyes full of awe.

"I want to do that," she sighed.

"What?" Percy asked.

"Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Percy?"

"Only in pictures."

"Someday, I'm going to see it in person," Annabeth said. "I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods ever. Something that'll last a thousand years."

Percy laughed. "You? An architect?"

Annabeth's cheeks flushed. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention."

Percy got quiet.

"Sorry," Annabeth said. "That was mean."

"Can't we work together a little?" Percy pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?"

Annabeth had to think about it. "I guess... the chariot," she said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete."

"Then we can cooperate, too. Right?"

They passed into the city. Annabeth watched the Arch disappear behind a hotel.

Finally, she said, "I suppose."

They pulled into the Amtrak station downtown. The intercom told them they'd have a three-hour stopover before departing for Denver.

Grover stretched. Before he was even fully awake, he said, "Food."

"Come on, goat boy," Annabeth said. "Sightseeing."

"Sightseeing?"

"The Gateway Arch," she said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?"

Naomi shrugged. "Okay," she said quietly.

Grover and Percy exchanged looks.

"As long as there's a snack bar without monsters," Grover decided.

The Arch was about a mile from the train station. This late in the day, the lines to get in were pretty short. They threaded their way through the underground museum, looking at covered wagons and other junk from the 1800s. Annabeth told them interesting facts about how the Arch was built. Naomi tried to pay attention, but it was hard to do that when she couldn't stop thinking about her maybe-father.

As they wandered deeper into the museum, Naomi started falling behind, getting lost in her thoughts. After a few minutes, Percy dropped back, and they walked side-by-side, quiet for a moment.

"What's up with you?" Percy asked. "You've been quiet since yesterday."

Naomi crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm always quiet," she mumbled.

"Not this quiet," Percy said. "Seriously, what's wrong? Did Annabeth say something while I was asleep?"

"No," Naomi muttered. "Well, I mean—she did, but it wasn't bad—well, it was bad, but it wasn't mean."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "What'd she say?"

Naomi chewed on the inside of her lip. "She has a theory about my godly parent."

She expected Percy to look surprised, but he didn't really. He frowned. "She does?"

Naomi sighed, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall back to her sides. "You do, too."

"I don't," Percy said. "But I think Chiron does. He was... he acted weird when I asked him how you'd gotten the hellhound to leave. Like he had an idea and... it wasn't good."

Naomi grimaced. That fit too well into Annabeth's theory—and if Chiron also thought her godly parent was Hades...

She was screwed.

"Who does Annabeth think it is?" Percy asked quietly.

Naomi hesitated. How was she supposed to tell him her godly parent was probably the god who currently wanted him dead and had stolen Zeus's lightning bolt to start a war?

But he deserved to know—even if that knowledge made him hate her.

"She thinks it might be..." She remembered what Mr. D had said about saying the gods' names out loud. Sure, she and Annabeth had said it on the train, but she figured they'd tempted fate enough for now. So instead of saying the name, she pointed down.

This time, Percy did look a little surprised. "She thinks your dad's Had—?"

Naomi shook her head quickly, cutting him off. "I don't want him to know we're talking about him."

Percy nodded slowly. "Okay... but that doesn't make any sense. You're... you're nice."

"So?"

"So... he isn't, is he?"

"Well, why else would the hellhound listen to me?" Naomi asked. "Why would a hellhound bring me to camp?"

Percy shrugged. "Maybe your godly parent's another Underworld god or something," he said. "There's other ones, right?"

"That's what Annabeth said," Naomi said. "But she didn't seem too convinced."

"Contrary to what she might believe, Annabeth doesn't know everything," Percy said.

Naomi frowned at him. "You're supposed to be working together, aren't you?"

"That doesn't mean I have to like her." At Naomi's exasperated look, he sighed. "Look, I'm just saying—she could be wrong about this. She probably is. Don't worry about it too much—I'm sure once we're through with this quest, your godly parent will claim you and everything will make sense."

"And if they don't?" Naomi asked.

"Then they're not worth it," he said firmly. "Now c'mon—I don't think Annabeth would even notice if they left us behind."

Naomi looked ahead, where Annabeth was talking Grover's ear off about structural support a few yards away.

"Yeah, I doubt she would," Naomi agreed.

They hurried to catch up.

A few minutes later, Percy started looking around nervously.

"You smell anything?" he murmured to Grover.

Grover took his nose out of his bag of jelly beans long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything."

"I don't like 'probably,'" Naomi mumbled.

"Guys," Percy said. "You know the gods' symbols of power?"

Annabeth had been in the middle of reading about the construction equipment used to build the Arch, but she looked over. "Yeah?"

"Well... our friend downstairs," he said, eying the ground pointedly, "doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

"You mean the Helm of Darkness," Annabeth said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" Naomi asked.

Annabeth nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus—the darkest day of the year. But his helmet is a lot more powerful than my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true..."

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

"But then... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" Percy asked.

Annabeth and Grover exchanged looks.

"We don't," Grover said.

Naomi fought a shudder. "Comforting."

"Yeah, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy grumbled. "Got any blue jelly beans left?"

Eventually, the four questers got shoehorned into an elevator with a lady and her dog—a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. Naomi figured it must have been a service dog, since the guards didn't say anything.

They started going up, inside the Arch.

"No parents?" the lady with the dog asked them.

She had beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress—quite the fashion statement. Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake would have been proud.

"They're below," Annabeth told her. "Scared of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings."

The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave."

"Sonny," Percy said. "Is that his name?"

"No," the lady said, and smiled like that cleared everything up.

They reached the top of the observation deck. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other.

Annabeth kept talking about structural supports, and how she would've made the windows bigger, and designed a see-through floor. Naomi figured she could've stayed up there for hours, but the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes.

Percy steered them all toward the exit like a dad trying to get home before the football game started on TV. Naomi, Annabeth, and Grover got on, but as Percy started to follow, he realized there were already two tourists inside. No room for Percy.

"Next car, sir," the park ranger said.

"We'll get out," Annabeth said. "We'll wait with you."

Percy shook his head. "Nah, it's okay. I'll see you guys at the bottom."

Percy did see them at the bottom—but he didn't take the elevator.

The crowd of bystanders, news crews, and police officers was almost impossible to maneuver through, but Annabeth shoved her way through, Naomi and Grover close behind.

Finally, Grover spotted him. "Perrr-cy!"

Grover tackled him in a hug, Naomi following suit.

"We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!" Grover exclaimed.

Annabeth crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look angry, but Naomi could see the relief in her expression. "We can't leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?"

"I sort of fell," Percy said.

"Percy! Six hundred and thirty feet?"

Behind them, a cop shouted, "Gangway!"

The crowd parted, and a couple of paramedics hustled out, rolling a woman on a stretcher. She was saying, "And then this huge dog, this huge fire-breathing Chihuahua—"

"Okay, ma'am," the paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is starting to kick in."

"I'm not crazy! This boy jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared." Then she spotted Percy. "There he is! That's the boy!"

Percy turned quickly and pulled his companions after him. They disappeared into the crowd.

"What's going on?" Annabeth demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?"

Percy told them the whole story of the Chimera, Echidna, Percy's high-dive act, the underwater lady's message.

"Whoa," Grover said. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad."

They passed another reporter doing a news break as he said, "Percy Jackson. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by the authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. And the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson."

The questers ducked around the news van and slipped into an alley.

"First things first," Percy told Grover. "We've got to get out of town."

Somehow, they made it back to the Amtrak station without getting spotted. They got on board the train just before it pulled out for Denver. The train trundled west as darkness fell, police lights still pulsing against the St. Louis skyline behind them.

The next afternoon, June fourteenth—seven days before the summer solstice—the train rolled into Denver. They hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in Kansas. None of them had showered since they left Camp Half-Blood, which was painfully obvious to anyone with at least one working nostril.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," Annabeth said. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"We can't use phones, right?" Percy asked.

"I'm not talking about phones."

They wandered downtown for about half an hour, though Naomi wasn't sure what Annabeth was looking for. The air was dry and hot, which felt strange after the humidity in St. Louis. Everywhere they turned, the Rocky Mountains stared down at them, like a tidal wave about to crash into the city.

They finally found an empty self-service car wash. They veered toward the stall furthest from the street, keeping their eyes open for police. They were four adolescents hanging out in a car wash without a car—any cop with working eyes would have gotten suspicious.

"What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked as Grover took out the spray gun.

"It's seventy-five cents," Grover grumbled. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?"

"Don't look at me," she said. "The dining car wiped me out."

Percy fished out a quarter and handed it to Grover.

"Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."

"What are you talking about?" Percy asked.

Grover fed in the quarters and set the knob to fine mist. "IM-ing."

Naomi frowned. "Instant messaging?"

"Iris-messaging," Annabeth corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods."

"You summon the goddess with a spray gun?" Percy asked.

Grover pointed the nozzle in the air and water hissed out in a thick white mist. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Sure enough, late afternoon light filtered through the vapor and broke into colors.

Annabeth held her palm out to Percy. "Drachma, please."

He handed it over.

She raised the coin over her head. "O goddess, accept our offering."

She threw the drachma into the rainbow. It disappeared in a golden shimmer.

"Half-Blood Hill," Annabeth requested.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then they were looking through the mist at strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound in the distance. Standing with his back to them was a sandy-haired boy in shorts and an orange tank top. He was holding a bronze sword and seemed to be staring intently at something down in the meadow.

"Luke!" Percy called.

He turned, eyes wide.

"Percy!" His scarred face broke into a grin. "Is that Annabeth and Naomi, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"

"We're... uh... fine," Annabeth stammered. She was madly straightening her dirty t-shirt, trying to comb the loose hair out of her face. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—"

"He's down at the cabins." Luke's smile faded. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?"

"I'm right here," Grover called. He held the nozzle to one side and stepped into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?"

Just then, a big Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum hip-hop. As the car slid into the next stall, the bass vibrated so much that it shook the pavement.

"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled.

"I'll take care of it!" Annabeth yelled back, looking relieved to have an excuse to get out of sight. "Grover, come on!"

"What?" Grover said. "But—"

"Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" she ordered.

Grover muttered something about girls being harder to understand than the Oracle of Delphi, then handed Percy the spray gun and followed Annabeth.

Percy readjusted the hose so he could keep the rainbow going and still see Luke.

"Chiron had to break up a fight," Luke shouted at them over the music. "Things are pretty tense here, guys. Word leaked out about the Zeus-Poseidon standoff. We're still not sure how—probably the same scumbag who summoned the hellhound. Now the campers are starting to take sides. It's shaping up like the Trojan War all over again. Aphrodite, Ares, and Apollo are backing Poseidon, more or less. Athena is backing Zeus."

In the next stall, Naomi heard Annabeth and some guy arguing with each other, then the music's volume decreased drastically.

"So what's your status?" Luke asked. "Chiron will be sorry he missed you."

Percy told him pretty much everything, including his freaky dreams. After a few minutes, the beeper went off on the spray machine, signaling that they only had one more minute before the water shut off.

"I wish I could be there," Luke said. "We can't help from here, I'm afraid, but listen... it had to be Hades who took the master bolt. He was there on Olympus at the winter solstice. I was chaperoning a field trip and we saw him."

"But Chiron said the gods can't take each other's magic items directly," Percy said.

"That's true," Luke said, looking troubled. "Still... Hades has the helmet of darkness. How could anybody else sneak into the throne room and steal the master bolt? You'd have to be invisible."

They were all silent, until Luke seemed to realize what he'd said.

"Oh, hey," he protested. "I didn't mean Annabeth. She and I have known each other forever. She would never... I mean, she's like a little sister to me."

Naomi had a feeling Annabeth wouldn't like that description.

In the stall next to them, the music stopped completely. A man screamed in terror, car doors slammed, and the Lincoln peeled out of the car wash.

"You'd better go see what that's about," Luke said. "Listen, are you wearing the flying shoes, Percy? I'll feel better if I know they've done you some good."

Percy's expression flashed with momentary panic. "Oh... uh, yeah! Yeah, they've come in handy."

"Really?" Luke grinned. "They fit and everything?"

The water shut off. The mist started to evaporate.

"Well, take care of yourselves out there in Denver," Luke called, his voice getting fainter. "And tell Grover it'll be better this time! Nobody will get turned into a pine tree if he just—"

But the mist was gone, and Luke's image faded to nothing. Percy and Naomi were alone in a wet, empty car-wash stall.

Annabeth and Grover came around the corner, laughing, but stopped when they saw them. Annabeth's smile faded. "What happened? What did Luke say?"

Percy and Naomi shared a brief look of worry. She felt something heavy settle in her stomach, like fear had taken on a solid form.

"Not much," Percy lied. "Come on, let's find some dinner."

Chapter 15: xiii. the thrill ride o' love

Chapter Text

A FEW MINUTES LATER, they were sitting at a booth in a gleaming chrome diner. All around them, families were eating burgers and drinking milkshakes and sodas.

A waitress came over, her expression skeptical. "Well?"

"We, um, want to order dinner," Percy said.

"You kids have money to pay for it?"

Grover's lower lip quivered. Annabeth looked ready to pass out from hunger.

Naomi was gauging whether the usual poor-little-orphan story would be sad enough to get them free food when a rumble shook the entire building; a motorcycle the size of a baby elephant had pulled up to the curb.

All conversation in the diner stopped. The motorcycle's headlight glared red. Its gas tank had flames painted on it, and a shotgun holster riveted to either side, complete with shotguns. The seat was leather—but leather that looked like... like human skin.

The guy on the bike looked like he strangled cute, fluffy animals for fun. He was dressed in a red muscle shirt and black jeans and a black leather duster, with a hunting knife strapped to his thigh. He wore red wraparound shades, and he had a brutal but wickedly handsome face, like a luxury car that had crashed into a brick wall.

As he walked into the diner, a hot, dry wind blew through the place. All the people rose, as if they were hypnotized, but the biker waved his hand dismissively and they all sat down again.

Everybody went back to their conversations. The waitress blinked, as if somebody had just pressed the rewind button on her brain. She asked them again, "You kids have money to pay for it?"

"It's on me," the biker said. He slid into their booth, which was way too small for him, and crowded Annabeth and Naomi together against the window.

He looked up at the waitress, who was gaping at him, and said, "Are you still here?"

He pointed at her, and she stiffened. She turned as if she'd been spun around, then marched back toward the kitchen.

The biker faced Percy, giving him a wicked grin. "So you're old Seaweed's kid, huh?"

Percy's eyes narrowed. "What's it to you?"

Annabeth flashed him a warning look. "Percy, this is—"

The biker raised his hand, and Naomi tried to hide her flinch. For a moment, she was selfishly glad Annabeth was sitting between them.

"S'okay," the biker said. "I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's the boss. You know who I am, little cousin?"

"You're Clarisse's dad," Percy said. "Ares, god of war."

The god grinned and took off his shades. Where his eyes should have been, there was only fire—empty sockets glowing with miniature nuclear explosions. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear."

"She was asking for it."

"Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you."

The waitress came back with heaping trays of food—cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.

Ares handed her a few drachmas.

She looked nervously at the coins. "But, these aren't..."

Ares pulled out his huge knife and started cleaning his fingernails. "Problem, sweetheart?"

The waitress swallowed, then left with the gold.

"You can't do that," Percy told Ares. "You can't just threaten people with a knife."

Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition. I need you to do me a favor."

"What favor could I do for a god?"

"Something a god doesn't have time to do himself," Ares said. "It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little... date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I left my shield behind. I want you to fetch it for me."

"Why don't you go back and get it yourself?"

The fire in his eye sockets glowed a little hotter. Naomi wondered if she could break the window with how much she was pressing against it to get away from the god.

"Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" Ares leaned forward. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you."

Percy's glare made it look like he was about to imitate Ares's fiery stare. "We're not interested," he said. "We've already got a quest."

"I know all about your quest, punk," Ares sneered. "When that item was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful..." He licked his lips, as if the very thought of the master bolt made him hungry. "Well... if I couldn't find it, you got no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath."

"You told him Hades stole the bolt?" Percy asked.

"Sure. Framing somebody to start a war—oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest."

"Thanks," Percy grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my little job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends."

"We're doing fine on our own."

Naomi wasn't sure how true that was, but she kept her mouth shut.

"Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom."

The heat in Percy's glare thawed a little. "My mom?"

Ares grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancey. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride."

"What interrupted your date?" Percy asked. "Something scare you off?"

Ares bared his teeth. "You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me."

Between blinks, the god disappeared, leaving them all reeling.

"Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good."

Percy looked out the window, where the motorcycle had also disappeared.

"It's probably some kind of trick," he said after a moment. "Forget Ares. Let's just go."

"We can't," Annabeth said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent."

"Why does he need us?" Percy asked.

"Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," Annabeth said. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes."

"But this water park... he acted almost scared. What would make a war god run away like that?"

Annabeth and Grover shared a nervous look.

"I'm afraid we'll have to find out," Annabeth sighed.

The sun was sinking behind the mountains by the time they found the water park. Judging from the sign, it had once been called WATERLAND, but now some of the letters were smashed out, so it read WAT R A D.

The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. Inside, huge dry water slides and tubes and pipes curled everywhere, leading to empty pools. Old tickets and advertisements fluttered around the tarmac. With night coming on, it looked like the set of a creepy horror movie.

"If Ares brings his girlfriend here for a date," Percy said, staring up at the barbed wire, "I'd hate to see what she looks like."

"Percy," Annabeth warned. "Be more respectful."

"Why? I thought you hated Ares."

"He's still a god. And his girlfriend is very temperamental."

"You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added.

"Who is she? Echidna?"

"No, Aphrodite," Grover said, his voice wistful. "Goddess of love."

"I thought she was married to somebody," Percy said. "Hephaestus."

"What's your point?" Grover asked.

"Oh." Percy turned his attention back to the water park. "So how do we get in?"

"Maia!" Grover's shoes sprouted wings.

He flew over the fence, did an unintended somersault in midair, then stumbled to a landing on the other side. He dusted off his jeans, as if he'd planned the whole thing. "You guys coming?"

Naomi, Percy, and Annabeth had to climb the old-fashioned way, holding down the barbed wire for each other as they crawled over the top.

The shadows grew long as they walked through the park, checking out the attractions. There was Ankle Biter Island, Head Over Wedgie, and Dude, Where's My Swimsuit?

No monsters appeared to ruin their evening. Nothing made the slightest noise.

They found a souvenir shop that had been left open. Merchandise still lined the shelves: snow globes, pencils, postcards, and racks of—

"Clothes," Annabeth said. "Fresh clothes."

"Yeah," Percy said. "But you can't just—"

"Watch me."

She snatched an entire row of stuff off the racks and disappeared into the changing room. A few minutes later, she came out in Waterland flower-print shorts, a big red Waterland t-shirt, and commemorative Waterland surf shoes. A Waterland backpack was slung over her shoulder, obviously stuffed with more goodies.

"What the heck?" Grover shrugged.

Soon, all four of them were decked out like walking advertisements for the defunct theme park.

They continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. It felt like the entire park was holding its breath for something big to happen, which didn't help with the nerves Naomi had been dealing with since Ares's visit.

If she never met that god again in her lifetime, it'd still be too soon.

"So Ares and Aphrodite," Percy said, "they have a thing going?"

"That's old gossip, Percy," Annabeth told him. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip."

"What about Aphrodite's husband?"

"Well, you know," she said. "Hephaestus. The blacksmith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?"

"She likes bikers."

"Whatever."

"Hephaestus knows?"

"Oh, sure," Annabeth said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like..."

She stopped, looking straight ahead. "Like that."

In front of them was an empty pool, at least fifty meters across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim, a dozen bronze statues of Cupid stood guard with wings spread and bows ready to fire. On the opposite side from them, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into when the pool was full. The sign above it read: THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENTS' TUNNEL OF LOVE!

Grover crept toward the edge. "Guys, look."

Marooned at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top and little hearts painted all over it. In the left seat, glinting in the fading light, was Ares's shield, a polished circle of bronze.

"This is too easy," Percy said. "So we just walk down there and get it?"

Annabeth ran her fingers along the base of the nearest Cupid statue. "There's a Greek letter carved here," she said. "Eta. I wonder..."

"Grover," Percy said, "you smell any monsters?"

He sniffed the wind. "Nothing."

"Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?"

Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground."

Okay, I'm sorry." Percy took a deep breath. "I'm going down there."

"I'll go with you." Grover didn't sound too enthusiastic.

"No," Percy said. "I want you to stay up top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, remember? I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong."

Grover puffed his chest up a little. "Sure. But what could go wrong?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling. Nomi, Annabeth, come with me—"

"Are you kidding?" Annabeth looked at him like he'd just dropped out of the sky out of nowhere. Her cheeks were bright red.

"What's the problem now?" Percy demanded.

"Me, go with you to the... the 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?"

Naomi frowned. "What's wrong with the 'Thrill Ride of...' Oh." Her face suddenly felt hot.

"Who's going to even see you?" Percy's face was red, too. He shook his head. "Fine. I'll do it myself."

Despite the declaration, as soon as he started down the side of the pool, Annabeth grumbled angrily about boys always messing things up and grabbed Naomi's hand, pulling her after him.

They reached the boat. Ares's shield was propped on one seat, and next to it was a lady's silk scarf. It was hard to imagine Ares and Aphrodite going on a date in a junky amusement park ride, but then Naomi noticed all the mirrors around the rim of the pool.

Ah, she thought. That's why they come here.

Percy picked up the scarf and smiled dreamily.

Annabeth snatched it out of his hand almost immediately. "Oh, no you don't. Stay away from that love magic."

"What?"

"Just get the shield, Seaweed Brain, and let's get out of here."

The moment Percy touched the shield, everything went wrong. His hand broke through something—it looked like a cobweb, but from the way Annabeth froze, Naomi had a feeling it was a lot more sinister.

"Wait," Annabeth said.

"Too late," Percy said nervously.

"There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap."

Noise erupted all around them, like a million gears grinding, as if the whole pool was turning into one giant machine.

"Guys!" Grover yelled.

Up on the rim, the Cupid statues were drawing their bows into firing position. Before any of them could think to take cover, the statues shot—but not at the demigods. They fired at each other, across the rim of the pool. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, arcing over the pool and anchoring where they landed to form a huge golden asterisk. Then smaller metallic threads started weaving together magically between the main strands, making a net.

"We should get out," Naomi said.

"Duh!" Annabeth said.

Percy grabbed the shield and they ran, but going up the slope of the pool was not as easy as going down.

"Come on!" Grover shouted. He was trying to hold open a section of the net for them, but wherever he touched it, the golden threads started to wrap around his hands.

The Cupids' heads popped open. Out came video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding them with illumination, and a loudspeaker voice boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute... fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight..."

"Hephaestus!" Annabeth screamed. "I'm so stupid! Eta is 'H'. He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!"

They'd almost made it to the rim of the pool when the row of mirrors opened like hatches and thousands of metallic... things poured out.

Annabeth screamed.

It was an army of wind-up creepy-crawlies: bronze-gear bodies, spindly legs, little pincer mouths, all scuttling toward them in a wave of crackling, whirring metal.

"Spiders!" Annabeth said. "Sp—sp—aaaah!"

Naomi had never seen her like this. Annabeth fell backward in terror and almost got overwhelmed by the spider robots before Percy pulled her up and dragged her toward the boat.

The things were coming out from all over the rim now, millions of them, flooding toward the center of the pool, completely surrounding them.

The three demigods scrambled into the boat. Naomi and Percy started kicking the robo-spiders away as they swarmed aboard, but Annabeth was too paralyzed with fear to do much more than scream.

"Thirty, twenty-nine," called the loudspeaker.

The spiders started spitting out strands of metal thread, trying to tie them down. The strands were easy enough to break at first, but there were so many of them, and the spiders kept coming. Percy kicked one away from Annabeth's leg and the pincers took out a chunk of his new surf shoe.

Grover hovered over the pool in his flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wouldn't budge.

"Fifteen, fourteen," the loudspeaker called.

"Grover!" Percy yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!"

"But—"

"Do it!"

The spiders were all over the prow of the boat now. Annabeth was screaming her head off.

Grover was in the controller's booth now, slamming away at the buttons.

"Five, four—"

Grover looked up hopelessly, raising his hands. Nothing was working.

"Two, one, zero!"

Water exploded out of the pipes, roaring into the pool and sweeping the spiders away. The ride was, of course, only meant for two people, which meant Naomi ended up in Percy's lap.

She would have been mortified if she wasn't terrified for her life.

A tidal wave slammed into the boat, over the top, whisking the spiders away and dousing them completely, but thankfully not capsizing them. The boat turned, lifted in the flood, and spun in circles around the whirlpool.

The water was full of short-circuiting spiders, some of them smashing against the pool's concrete wall with such force they burst.

Spotlights glared down at them. The Cupid-cams were rolling, live to Olympus.

Naomi really hoped ratings were low today.

They spun around one last time, the water level now almost high enough to shred them against the metal net. Then the boat's nose turned toward the tunnel and they rocketed through into the darkness.

They all held tight, all of them screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five degree plunges past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a bunch of other Valentine's Day stuff.

Then they were out of the tunnel, the night air whistling through their hair as the boat barreled straight toward the exit.

If the ride had been in working order, they would've sailed off a ramp between the golden Gates of Love and splashed down safely in the exit pool. But there was a problem. The Gates of Love were chained. Two boats that had been washed out of the tunnel before them were now piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half.

"Unfasten your seatbelt!" Percy yelled at Annabeth.

"Are you crazy?"

"Unless you want to get smashed to death." Percy strapped Ares's shield to the arm that wasn't currently acting as a human seatbelt around Naomi's waist. "We're going to jump for it."

"We're gonna die," Naomi said.

"Maybe not!"

The gates got closer. Annabeth unfastened her seatbelt.

"When I say go," Percy said.

"No!" Annabeth said. "When I say go!"

"What?"

"Simple physics!" she yelled. "Force times the trajectory angle—"

"Fine!" Percy shouted. "When you say go!"

She hesitated... hesitated... then yelled, "Now!"

Crack!

Annabeth was right. If they'd jumped any sooner, they would've crashed into the gate. Instead, they sailed right over.

Unfortunately, the momentum was a bit more than they needed.

The boat smashed into the pileup and they were thrown into the air, straight over the gates, over the pool, and down toward solid tarmac.

Something grabbed Naomi by the arm.

Annabeth yelled, "Ouch!"

In midair, Grover had somehow managed to grab Percy by the shirt and Annabeth and Naomi by their arms, and was trying to pull them out of a crash-landing, but the three demigods had all the momentum.

"You're too heavy!" Grover said. "We're going down!"

They spiraled toward the ground, Grover doing his best to slow the fall.

They smashed into a photo-board, Grover's head going straight into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy tumbled to the ground like graceless newborn deer, banged up but alive. Ares's shield was still on Percy's arm.

Once they caught their breath, they helped Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving their lives.

Naomi looked back at the Thrill Ride o' Love. The water was subsiding. Their boat had been smashed to pieces against the gates.

A hundred meters away, at the entrance pool, the Cupids were still filming. The statues had swiveled so that their cameras were trained straight on them, the spotlights in their faces.

"Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Goodnight!"

The Cupids turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off. The park went quiet and dark again, except for the gentle trickle of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's exit pool.

Percy hefted the shield on his arm and turned to them. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."

Chapter 16: xiv. a dingy zoo truck takes them to las vegas

Chapter Text

THE WAR GOD was waiting for them in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," he said. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," Percy accused.

Ares gave him a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

Percy shoved the shield at the god. "You're a jerk."

Annabeth and Grover caught their breath. Naomi not so subtly shifted to stand behind Annabeth.

Ares grabbed the shield and spun it in the air like pizza dough. It changed form, melting into a bulletproof vest. He slung it across his back.

"See that truck over there?" He pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street from the diner. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

The eighteen-wheeler had a sign on the back that read: KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

Percy said, "You're kidding."

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door of the truck unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it at Percy.

Percy glared at the god. "I don't want your lousy—"

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted, giving Percy his best red-alert warning look. "Thanks a lot."

Percy reluctantly slung the backpack over his shoulder. "You owe me one more thing," he told Ares. "You promised me information about my mother."

"You sure you can handle the news?" He kick-started his motorcycle. "She's not dead.

Percy's glare all but melted off of his face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She was turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis. Not death. She's being kept."

"Kept. Why?"

"You need to study war, punk," Ares said. "Hostages. You take somebody to control somebody else."

"Nobody's controlling me," Percy argued.

Ares laughed. "Oh yeah? See you around, kid."

Percy's hands clenched into fists. "You're pretty smug, Lord Ares, for a guy who runs from Cupid statues."

Behind his sunglasses, fire glowed. "We'll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you're in a fight, watch your back."

He revved his Harley, then roared off down Delancy Street.

"That was not smart, Percy," Annabeth said.

"I don't care."

"You don't want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god."

"Hey, guys," Grover said. "I hate to interrupt, but..."

He pointed toward the diner. At the cash register, the last two customers were paying their bill—two men in identical black coveralls, with a white logo on their backs that matched the one on the KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL truck.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Grover said, "we need to hurry."

They ran across the road and climbed into the back of the big lorry, closing the doors behind them.

The Kindness International truck seemed to be running low on the kindness.

The trailer was dark inside until Percy uncapped his sword. The blade cast a faint bronze light over a very sad scene. Sitting in a row of filthy metal cages were three pitiful zoo animals: a zebra, a male albino lion, and some weird antelope thing.

Someone had thrown the lion a sack of turnips, which he understandably didn't want anything to do with. The zebra and the antelope had each gotten a polystyrene tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with chewing gum, like somebody had been spitting on it in their spare time. The antelope had a silver birthday balloon tied to one of its horns that read OVER THE HILL!

Apparently, nobody had wanted to get close enough to the lion to mess with him, but the poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space way too small for him, panting from the stuffy heat of the trailer. He had flies buzzing around his pink eyes and his ribs showed through his white fur.

"This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?"

He probably would've gone right back outside to beat up the truckers with his reed pipes, and Naomi would've been happy to help, but just then the truck's engine roared to life, the trailer started shaking, and they were forced to sit down or fall down.

They huddled in the corner of some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover talked to the animals in a series of goat bleats, but they just stared at them sadly. Annabeth was in favor of breaking the cages and freeing them on the spot, but Percy pointed out that it wouldn't do much good until the truck stopped moving.

Naomi found a water jug and refilled their bowls. Percy used his swords to drag the mismatched food out of their cages, giving the meat to the lion and the turnips to the zebra and the antelope.

Grover calmed the antelope down while Annabeth used her knife to cut the balloon off his horn. She wanted to cut the gum out of the zebra's mane, too, but with the truck bumping around, it was too risky. They told Grover to promise the animals they'd help them more in the morning, then they settled in for the night.

Grover curled up on a turnip sack; Annabeth opened the bag of Double Stuf Oreos from Ares's backpack and split one with Naomi.

It was June fourteenth. She hadn't realized it until now, but her fourteenth birthday was in ten days.

Naomi hardly ever gave her birthday much thought—having a summer birthday was only fun when you could throw pool parties. St. Monica's had no pool, and even if they did, the nuns wouldn't have let her throw a pool party. Who would she have even invited? The other kids at the orphanage? Percy?

She wondered if her godly parent would reach out. It was a stupid, wishful thought, but she couldn't help but think it. A small part of her hoped maybe her godly parent was holding off on claiming her until her birthday, to make it special in a way.

Or maybe her godly parent didn't even know her birthday.

Somehow that seemed more likely.

"Hey," Annabeth said, "I'm sorry for freaking out back at the water park."

"That's okay," Percy said.

"It's just..." She shuddered. "Spiders."

"Because of the Arachne story," Percy guessed. "She got turned into a spider for challenging your mom to a weaving contest, right?"

Annabeth nodded. "Arachne's children have been taking revenge on children of Athena ever since. If there's a spider within a mile of me, it'll find me. I hate the creepy little things. Anyway, I owe you."

"We're a team, remember?" Percy said. "Besides, Grover did the fancy flying."

Naomi thought he was already asleep, but he mumbled from the corner, "I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?"

Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy laughed.

Annabeth pulled apart another Oreo, handing Percy half. "In the Iris message... did Luke really say nothing?"

Percy hesitated, munching on his cookie in silence. "Luke said you and he go way back," he finally said. "He also said Grover wouldn't fail this time. Nobody would turn into a pine tree."

Grover let out a mournful bray. "I should've told you the truth from the beginning." His voice trembled. "I thought if you knew what a failure I was, you wouldn't want me along."

"You were the satyr who tried to rescue Thalia, the daughter of Zeus," Percy said quietly.

Naomi frowned, confused, but kept quiet. She'd always been pretty good at figuring stuff out from context clues.

Grover nodded glumly.

"And the other two half-bloods Thalia befriended, the ones who got safely to camp..." Percy looked over Naomi's head at Annabeth. "That was you and Luke, wasn't it?"

Annabeth put down her Oreo, uneaten. "Like you said, Percy, an eight-year-old half-blood wouldn't have made it very far alone. Athena guided me toward help. Thalia was twelve. Luke was fourteen. They'd both run away from home, like me. They were happy to take me with them. They were... amazing monster-fighters, even without training. We traveled north from Virginia without any real plans, fending off monsters for about two weeks before Grover found us."

"I was supposed to escort Thalia to camp," he said, sniffling. "Only Thalia. I had strict orders from Chiron: don't do anything that would slow down the rescue. We knew Hades was after her, see, but I couldn't just leave Luke and Annabeth by themselves. I thought... I thought I could lead all three of them to safety. It was my fault the Kindly Ones caught up with us. I froze. I got scared on the way back to camp and took some wrong turns. If I'd just been a little quicker..."

"Stop it," Annabeth said. "No one blames you. Thalia didn't blame you either."

"She sacrificed herself to save us," he said miserably. "Her death was my fault. The Council of Cloven Elders said so."

"Because you wouldn't leave two other half-bloods behind?" Percy said. "That's not fair."

"Percy's right," Annabeth said. "I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you, Grover. Neither would Luke. We don't care what the council says."

Grover kept sniffling in the dark. "It's just my luck. I'm the lamest satyr ever, and I find the two most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia and Percy."

"You're not lame," Annabeth insisted. "You've got more courage than any satyr I've ever met. Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. I bet Percy is really glad you're here right now."

She reached over Naomi's head to flick him in the shoulder.

"Yeah," Percy said, shooting her a brief glare. "It's not luck that you found Thalia and me, Grover. You've got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You're a natural searcher. That's why you'll be the one who finds Pan."

There was a deep, satisfied sigh. Soon, Grover was snoring.

"How does he do that?" Percy marveled.

"I don't know," Annabeth said. "But that was a really nice thing you told him."

"I meant it."

They rode in silence for a few miles, bumping around on the feed sacks. The zebra munched a turnip. The lion licked the last of the hamburger meat off his lips and looked at Percy hopefully.

Annabeth rubbed her necklace like she was thinking deep, strategic thoughts.

"That pine-tree bead," Naomi said. "Is that from your first year?"

Annabeth looked. She hadn't realized what she was doing.

"Yeah," she said. "Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year's beads. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now that was a weird summer..."

"And the college ring is your father's?" Percy asked curiously.

"That's none of your—" She stopped herself. "Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"You don't have to tell us," Naomi offered gently.

"No... it's okay." Annabeth took a shaky breath. "My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn't have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her... That's a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Naomi said.

"Yeah, well... the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for that school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn't want her kids put in danger by living with a freak. Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn't make it through winter break. I called Chiron and came right back to Camp Half-Blood."

"You think you'll ever try living with your dad again?" Percy asked.

Annabeth didn't look at either of them. "Please. I'm not into self-inflicted pain."

"You shouldn't give up," Percy told her. "You should write him a letter or something."

"Thanks for the advice," she said coldly, "but my father's made his choice about who he wants to live with."

They passed another few miles in silence.

"So, if the gods fight," Percy said, "will things line up the way they did with the Trojan War? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?"

Annabeth put her head against the backpack Ares had given them, and closed her eyes. "I don't know what my mom will do. I just know I'll fight next to you guys."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friends, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?"

She didn't give Percy a chance to come up with one. She was asleep in seconds.

Naomi wished she could say the same, but like most nights, sleep fought with a vengeance.

She gave up after two hours, and stayed awake, keeping watch in the dingy zoo transport trailer, and trying to ignore the lion's hungry eyes.

After a long, sleepless night, Naomi was startled into action when the truck came to a stop.

As soon as she heard the sound of a door opening, she shook her companions awake. "We stopped. I think they're coming to check on the animals."

Everyone jumped into adrenaline-fueled action.

"Hide!" Annabeth hissed.

Easy for her to say. She just put on her magic cap and disappeared. Naomi, Grover, and Percy had to dive behind feed sacks and hope they looked enough like turnips not to rouse suspicion.

The trailer doors creaked open. Sunlight and heat poured in.

"Man!" one of the truckers said, waving his hand in front of his nose. "I wish I hauled appliances." He climbed inside and poured some water from a jug into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" he asked the lion, then splashed the rest of the bucket right in the lion's face.

The lion roared in indignation.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," the man said.

Grover tensed under the turnip sacks. For a peace-loving herbivore, he looked downright murderous.

The trucker threw the antelope a squashed-looking Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin, Stripes? Least we'll be getting rid of you this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!"

The zebra, wild-eyed with fear, looked straight at Percy.

There was a loud knock, knock, knock on the side of the trailer.

The trucker inside with Naomi and her companions yelled, "What do you want, Eddie?"

A voice outside—Eddie's, Naomi assumed—shouted back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

Knock, knock, knock.

Outside, Eddie yelled, "What banging?"

Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being an idiot.

A second later, Annabeth appeared next to Percy. She must've done the banging to get Maurice out of the trailer. She said, "This transport business can't be legal."

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers! We've got to free them!"

He, Naomi, and Annabeth both looked at Percy, waiting for his lead.

Percy looked at them, then at the zebra, then at the trailer doors. Finally, he took out his sword and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage.

The zebra burst out. It turned to Percy and... bowed?

Grover held his hands and said something to the zebra in goat talk, like a blessing.

Just as Maurice was poking his head back inside to check out the noise, the zebra leaped over him and into the street. There was yelling and screaming and cars honking. Naomi and her companions rushed to the doors of the trailer in time to see the zebra galloping down a wide boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and neon signs.

They'd just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

The truckers ran after it, with a few policemen running after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," Annabeth said.

"The other animals first," Grover said.

Percy cut the locks with his sword. Grover raised his hands and spoke the same goat-blessing he'd used for the zebra.

"Good luck," Percy told the animals.

The antelope and the lion burst out of their cages and went off together into the streets.

Some tourists screamed. Most just backed off and took pictures, probably thinking it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos.

"Will the animals be okay?" Percy asked Grover. "I mean, the desert and all—"

"Don't worry," he said. "I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

Naomi blinked. "And... that means...?"

"It means they'll reach the wild safely," he explained. "They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need to find a safe place to live."

"Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" Percy asked.

"It only works on wild animals."

"So it would only affect Percy," Annabeth reasoned.

Naomi didn't even try to hide her laugh

"Hey!" Percy protested.

"Kidding," Annabeth said. "Come on. Let's get out of this filthy truck."

Chapter 17: xv. the monsters that walk in the light

Chapter Text

THEY STUMBLED OUT into the desert afternoon. It was a hundred degrees, easy, and they must've looked like deep-fried vagrants, but everybody was too interested in the wild animals to pay them much attention.

They passed the Monte Carlo and the MGM. They passed pyramids, a pirate ship, and the Statue of Liberty—well, a small replica of it. Naomi wasn't sure what they were looking for. Maybe just a place to get out of the heat for a few minutes, find a sandwich and a glass of lemonade, make a new plan for getting west.

They must have taken a wrong turn, because they found themselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The entrance was a huge neon flower, the petals lighting up and blinking. No one was going in or out, but the glittering chrome doors were open, spilling out air conditioning that smelled like flowers—lotus blossoms, Naomi figured.

The doorman smiled at them. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?"

Naomi had always had a healthy level of "stranger danger," but after the week she'd had, she was too tired to do anything but follow her friends into the building.

"Whoa," Grover said.

The whole lobby was a giant game room. There was an indoor water slide snaking around the glass elevator, which led straight up at least forty floors. There was a climbing wall on the side of one building, and an indoor bungee-jumping bridge. There were VR headsets with working laser guns. And hundreds of video games, each one the size of a widescreen TV. There were a few other kids playing, but not that many. No waiting for any of the games. There were waitresses and snack bars all around, serving every kind of food imaginable.

"Hey!" an employee said. At least, Naomi was pretty sure he was an employee. He wore a white-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt with lotus designs, shorts, and flip-flops. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key."

"Um, but..." Percy stammered.

"No, no," the guy said, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on up to the top floor, room 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your Lotus Cash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides."

He handed each of them a green plastic credit card.

"How much is on here?" Percy asked.

The employee's eyebrows knit together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when does it run out of cash?"

He laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay."

They took the elevator upstairs and checked out their room. It was a suite with four separate bedrooms, and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. There was a hotline to room service; fluffy towels and waterbeds with feather pillows; a big-screen TV with satellite and high-speed internet. The balcony had its own hot tub and, sure enough, there was a skeet-shooting machine and a shotgun, so you could launch clay pigeons right out over the Las Vegas skyline and take them right back out. The view over the Strip and the desert was amazing, though wasted with everything else the room had going on.

"Oh, goodness," Annabeth said. "This place is..."

"Sweet," Grover said. "Absolutely sweet."

Everyone split off to separate rooms, all eager to shower and change.

After a week of grimy travel, Naomi vowed never to take showers for granted ever again. The hot water felt like a piece of heaven had found its way onto earth just for her. She couldn't tell how long she was in there—the hot water seemed to be endless. By the time she finally stepped out, cleaner than she might have ever been in her life, she was practically a prune.

The clothes in the closet were just Naomi's size, which was weird, but she decided not to look the gift horse in the mouth. She changed into shorts and probably the most comfortable t-shirt she'd ever worn.

When she came out of her room, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover had also showered and changed. Grover was eating potato chips to his heart's content, Annabeth was tuned into the National Geographic Channel, and Percy was drinking what was probably his fourth Coke, judging by how he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot every few seconds—either too much Coke, or he really needed to pee.

"So what now?" Annabeth asked, pulling her eyes away from the tree frogs on the TV screen. "Sleep?"

Naomi barely held in a wistful sigh. Sleep sounded great right about now.

Percy and Grover, it seemed, had other ideas. They looked at each other and grinned, holding up their green plastic LotusCash cards.

"Play time," Percy said.

Naomi thought about it for a moment as everyone got their shoes on. She'd never been much of a video game person—the only one she'd ever played was Mario Kart on Percy's old Nintendo, and she was so terrible at it it wasn't even any fun.

"You guys go ahead," she decided. "I'm gonna take a nap."

"You sure?" Annabeth asked.

Naomi nodded. "I didn't get much sleep last night," she said. Try none. "I'll catch up with you guys later."

"You owe me a game of Mario Kart," Percy declared. "Find me when you're not a sleepwalking zombie."

Annabeth rolled her eyes at him as the three walked out of the room.

Naomi went back to her bedroom and curled up under the incredibly soft blankets. Maybe it was the cool, soft pillow under her head, or maybe it was the completely empty gas-tank Naomi was running on. Whatever it was, she was out in seconds.

Naomi dreamed of a cacophony of voices.

It felt like she'd stepped into a mob of confused rioters, all shouting for different things, and she was left reeling trying to pick out a single voice in the sea of dozens.

Some voices were soft, feminine, vaguely familiar. Others were louder, angrier. Some were steady like rivers, others chaotic like thunderstorms. She was pretty sure some of them weren't even speaking English.

As the voices all got louder, some of them stood out enough for her to catch some of the words echoing in whatever dreamland she'd found herself in.

This is her? a throaty voice sneered.

Darkness unbound... the flames... came an in-and-out voice like a radio malfunctioning during a broadcasted sermon.

Forgive me, murmured another, much softer voice.

There's my girl, called yet another, this voice like an audible smile.

Choose wisely, little one, a voice that sounded as if it had existed for millennia before Naomi whispered, with the faint edge of a threat.

Underneath it all, like a soundtrack to the chaos, a woman hummed some kind of lullaby. It was an unfamiliar tune, and it tugged at Naomi, guiding her forward into the endless darkness.

And then the darkness was gone, replaced by the sudden, orange light of a slow sunset.

Naomi blinked. It only took a moment for her to recognize where she was, and only a moment after that for fear to crash over her like a tidal wave.

Her flinch was instinctual, coming a second before the nightmarishly familiar voice bellowed, "You'll learn to act right, or you'll be going back to those nuns in a casket."

Through wet eyelashes, Naomi looked up at the owner of the voice. It was hard to see him through her tears, but she had seen him enough times in her life and in her dreams to see it clearly in her mind. The messy eyebrows, the mouth set in a permanent scowl, the hazel eyes that never softened, only hardened like bruises on skin.

"I'm sorry," Naomi whimpered, playing the part she'd originated years ago. Her eight-year-old self sat with her back against the wall, wishing hopelessly that she would phase through it and escape Mr. Bowry's all-encompassing range of fury. "I'll—I'll be good, I promise."

"Your promises don't mean shit," he sneered. "How many calls from that damn principal am I going to have to take before you learn to keep your mouth shut in class? I ought to send you back there with staples in your lips to keep you quiet."

It sounded like such a ludicrous threat, but Naomi's small body shook with genuine terror. She had no doubt he'd follow through if she misbehaved again.

"I'll be good," she whimpered. "I'm sorry."

"'Sorry,'" he scoffed. "Well, we're all 'sorry,' aren't we? I'm sorry I ever let Heather talk me into this fostering bullshit. You brats are all ungrateful—we take you into our homes, and you repay us by acting up? By embarrassing us in front of all your teachers?"

Naomi didn't answer. She knew no words would curb his anger—only silence could help it simmer from a splattering boil to a steady steam that would clear out eventually with only a few burns.

"Clean this mess up," Mr. Bowry ordered, kicking a shard of brown glass at Naomi's curled up form. "Heather'll throw a fit if she sees what you did."

With one last sneer in her direction, he turned, a fresh bottle in his fist.

Naomi's hands trembled as she forced herself up, wincing as the cut on her arm throbbed with the movement.

The scene began to fade, though Naomi knew it by heart—she knew the entire Bowry House act of her life without a script, having performed it countless times in her worst nightmares. She would stand on weak legs, clean up the broken glass and spilled beer. She would throw and wash away every piece of evidence; she would cover her cut with a big BandAid and say she fell down at recess; she would go back up to her room and not come out until Heather announced that dinner was ready.

The darkness returned, and Naomi welcomed it with open arms. There was a reason she had never been afraid of the dark as a child, of the monsters that may have lingered in its depths.

She learned young that some monsters walked in the light, too.

The humming lullaby from before came back, chasing her fear away until only the shadow of it remained, as it always did—maybe always would.

And then the humming paused, and a voice Naomi had never heard, but still somehow knew, murmured, Never again, my girl. I promise.

The lullaby recommenced. As it went on, the darkness pulled her deeper into sleep, until she dreamt of nothing at all.

When she woke at last, her eyelashes were wet with tears. She rubbed at her face blindly as she sat up. The tension that always followed a nightmare began to ease as she recollected herself, remembering where she was, what she was doing, who she was with.

She'd been out of that house for over four years now. Mr. Bowry was six feet underground. He could never hurt her again.

But he still haunted her. She had a sinking feeling he always would.

The nightmare had left her coated in sweat, so she resigned herself to another shower—a much quicker and less indulgent one, but it was still just as pleasant as the first. She changed into another set of fresh clothes, dried her hair as best as she could, put on her new sneakers, and slipped out of the suite.

As the elevator began its descent with its sole passenger, Naomi spotted something in the corner.

She frowned, bending down to pick up the stuffed animal. It looked like its owner—no doubt some tantrum-happy little kid with sharp teeth—had taken a bite out of the plush lion's stomach, leaving the stuffing exposed.

Naomi stepped off on the ground floor, still holding the Beanie-Baby. She felt bad for the little guy—it reminded her of the poor lion in the zoo truck. She wondered if she could find someone to stitch him back up when she got back to camp (assuming they made it back in one piece).

The hotel wasn't crowded by any means, but it was so huge that Naomi started to wonder how she was supposed to meet up with her friends. It would probably take her days to see every inch of the place, and as much as she appreciated a break from the quest, she knew they needed to get back to it if they had any hope of saving the world.

Naomi wandered around the hotel, trying to think of where her friends might be. She was so lost in her slowly mounting worry that she'd never find her friends that she walked straight into somebody.

Naomi staggered back in surprise, looking up at the guy she'd bumped into—way up. He must've been six feet tall, which was outrageous compared to Naomi's shorter-than-average height. He looked like the kind of teenage boy college football recruiters would fight to the death to get onto their team, with broad shoulders and frightening muscles that were painfully obvious under his purple t-shirt.

"Sorry," she said quietly, breaking eye contact as soon as they made it. She was wary of bulky guys on her good days—and after her nightmare-infested nap, it was definitely not one of those rare good days.

"It's my bad," the guy said. He moved like he was about to walk around her, but he stopped, looking down at her hands. "Where'd you get that?"

Naomi looked down at the injured Beanie-Baby she was still holding. "Oh. It—it was in the elevator. Do you know whose it is?"

The guy closed his eyes for a moment, an exasperated sigh slipping out of his mouth. "Unfortunately," he muttered. "Did you happen to see who left it there?"

Naomi frowned. "No," she said. "It was in the elevator when I got in."

The guy mumbled something under his breath, like he was cursing his own existence. "You haven't seen a blond guy running around here, have you? Scrawny, super pale, looks a little Coco for Cocoa Puffs? Yay-high, probably carrying around another Beanie-Baby and a knife?" He placed his hand in the air, next to his temple.

Naomi's eyes widened. "A knife?"

The guy's eyes flickered down to her hip. He frowned a little. "Yeah—like that sword on your belt, but... shorter."

Naomi looked down at her weapon, then back at the guy, her eyes wide. "I can explain."

"I didn't ask," the guy sighed, his tone not exactly rude—just resigned. "Hey, what's that on your arm?"

Naomi frowned, holding the Beanie-Baby in one hand to inspect her other arm. "I don't see anything."

The guy sighed again, looking up at the ceiling, which must have been seventy or so feet above their heads. "'Course not," he muttered. "That'd be too easy."

He returned his attention back to Naomi. "I can take that. It's my friend's." He said the word "friend" like it was as sour as lemon juice on his tongue.

Just a bit reluctantly, Naomi handed the Beanie-Baby.

"Thanks," he said, taking the plush toy and shoving it none-too-gently into the backpack hanging from his shoulder. "And good luck, kid. Hope you make it."

He left with that, leaving behind a thoroughly confused Naomi.

She shook her head. Weird.

It didn't take as long as Naomi had feared to find her friends. Well, one of them, at least.

When she finally found Percy, he looked thoroughly freaked out. As soon as he spotted her, he ran over. "Naomi! Do you know how long we've been in here?"

Naomi frowned. "I just woke up a few minutes ago."

"Something weird's going on," he said.

Naomi thought back to the gutted stuffed lion. Yeah, you could say that.

"Where're Grover and Annabeth?" she asked Percy.

"I don't know, but we need to find them," he said. "We have to get out of here."

He grabbed Naomi's hand and they set off to find their friends.

They found Annabeth at some kind of city-building simulation game, busying creating some sort of skyscraper on the screen.

"Come on," Percy told her. "We've got to get out of here."

No response.

Naomi shook Annabeth's shoulder. "Annabeth?"

She looked up, annoyed. "What?"

"We need to leave," Percy said.

"Leave?" Annabeth asked. "What are you talking about? I've just got the towers—"

"This place is a trap."

Annabeth didn't respond until Naomi shook her again. "What?"

Now Naomi was getting worried. "The Underworld," she tried to remind Annabeth. "Our quest? To save the world and stop a war?"

"Oh, come on, Naomi. Just a few more minutes."

"Annabeth, there are people here from 1977," Percy said, which was news to Naomi. "Kids who have never aged. You check in, and you stay forever."

"1977?" Naomi asked. She looked around—yeah, no one here looked a day over, like, sixteen.

"Yeah, 1977," Percy said. "Like I said, you come in here and you get stuck forever."

"So?" Annabeth asked. "Can you imagine a better place?"

Percy grabbed her wrist and yanked her away from the game.

"Hey!" She screamed, hitting him, but no one else even bothered to look in their direction. They were too busy with their games.

All those years wishing the nuns would get a PlayStation... yeah, she didn't think she was missing out anymore.

"There's also apparently a crazy guy with a knife," Naomi added, which earned her a confused look from Percy. "If that helps motivate you to get out of here."

"I have a knife!" Annabeth countered.

Percy grabbed her face, making her look directly at him. "Spiders," he said. "Large, hairy spiders."

That did the trick. Annabeth sucked in a breath. "Oh my gods," she said. "How long have we—?"

"I don't know, but we've got to find Grover," Percy said.

They went searching, and found him shooting at virtual humans as a deer.

"Grover!" they all shouted.

"Die, human!" Grover shouted dramatically. "Die, silly polluting nasty person!"

"Grover!"

He turned the plastic gun on Percy and started clicking, like he thought he was part of the game.

Percy and Annabeth looked at each other, then took Grover by the arms and dragged him away. His flying shoes sprang to life and started tugging his legs in the other direction as he shouted, "No! I just got to a new level! No!"

The bellhop hurried up to them. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?"

"Um, no, thanks," Naomi said. "We have to go."

"Such a shame," he said, and Naomi got a feeling he actually meant it—like them leaving would break his heart. "We just added an entire new floor full of games for platinum-card members."

He held out the cards.

Grover reached for the card, but Annabeth yanked back his arm and said, "No, thanks."

They walked toward the door, and as they did, the smell of the food and the sounds of the games seemed to get more inviting. Naomi thought about their room upstairs—the soft mattress, the cool pillow, the drinks and snacks. They could just stay the night...

Then they burst through the doors of the Lotus Casino and ran down the sidewalk. It felt like afternoon, about the same time they'd gone into the casino, but something was wrong. The weather had completely changed. It was stormy, with heat lightning flashing out in the desert.

Percy had Ares's backpack once again, which was weird, because Naomi didn't remember seeing him with it a moment ago.

Percy ran to the nearest newspaper stand. His expression shifted from relieved to horrified in a matter of seconds.

"It's June twentieth," he said.

Annabeth frowned, snatching the newspaper out of his hand. "That's impossible, we were only in there for—five days?"

"What?" Naomi asked, reading the front page as Annabeth held it open. "How—I was asleep for five days?"

"The summer solstice is tomorrow," Grover said. "We—oh my gods, we're screwed."

Naomi liked to be optimistic, but for once, she couldn't find a single optimistic thing to say.

They'd been in the Lotus Casino for five days.

Which gave them one day to complete their quest.

Oh no.

Chapter 18: xvi. welcome to l.a.

Chapter Text

ONCE THE PANIC HAD EBBED ENOUGH, Annabeth loaded them into the back of a Vegas taxi as if they actually had money, and told the driver, "Los Angeles, please."

The cabbie chewed his cigar and sized them up. He eyed Grover, who'd gotten stuck in the front seat next to the smoking man, then the three preteens in his backseat. "That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."

"You accept casino debit cards?" Annabeth asked.

He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through, first."

Annabeth handed him her green LotusCash card.

He looked at it skeptically.

"Swipe it," Annabeth invited.

He did.

His meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed. Finally an infinity symbol came up next to the dollar sign.

The cigar fell out of the driver's mouth. He looked back at them, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles... uh, Your Highness?"

"The Santa Monica pier." Annabeth sat up a little straighter—clearly she liked the 'Your Highness' thing. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."

Maybe she shouldn't have told him that.

The cab's speedometer never dipped below ninety-five the whole way through the Mojave Desert.

On the road, they had more than enough time to talk. Percy told them about his latest dream, but it seemed the Lotus Casino had messed with his memory. Apparently the invisible servant from his dream had called the monster in the pit something other than 'my lord'... some special name or title...

"The Silent One?" Annabeth suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe..." Percy said, but he didn't sound sure.

"That throne room sounds like Hades's," Grover said, leaning precariously between the passenger and the driver's seat to get close enough to them to whisper—not that the cabbie was paying them any mind. He kept tapping his meter, like he was expecting the infinity symbol to glitch out and praying it wouldn't. "That's the way it's usually described."

Percy shook his head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit... I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

"So... like something less than a god or... something more?" Naomi asked nervously.

Annabeth's eyes widened.

"What?" Percy asked.

"Oh... nothing. I was just—No, it has to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"

"Like what?"

"I—I don't know," Annabeth said. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

Despite her confident words, Annabeth seemed off. She looked pale, like she was beginning to realize something she did not want to realize.

"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," Percy said, "why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

Naomi looked at him with wide eyes. "That's dark."

"Why, thank you."

"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for two items," Percy said. "If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"

Grover shook his head, clearly mystified. Naomi didn't have a clue, either, though she figured she wasn't knowledgeable enough in mythology to be expected to have one.

Percy looked at Annabeth. "You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you? I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Percy... let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades... No. It has to be Hades."

But the more she said that, the more Naomi doubted it.

Wasteland rolled by. They passed a sign that said: CALIFORNIA STATE LINE, 12 MILES.

Naomi tried to think about anything else but the question now hanging in the air, but she didn't have much of a selection. She could think about her nightmare, and the strange, maybe-familiar voice and that lullaby; she could think about the fact that she might be meeting her father (who might have been trying to start a godly civil war) in the next few hours or so, and all the things she wanted to say but would never actually get out because she was terrified of confrontation; she could think about the fact that there was a high possibility that they might never leave the Underworld alive.

Yeah—kind of a sucky selection of things to think about.

They were hurtling toward the Underworld at almost a hundred miles per hour. They were betting on Hades having the master bolt. If they got there and found out they were wrong, there wouldn't be time to correct themselves and find the real thief. The solstice deadline would pass and war would begin.

"The answer is in the Underworld," Annabeth said, like she was trying to reassure everyone, including herself. "You saw the spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

She tried to boost their morale by suggesting clever strategies for getting into the Land of the Dead, but Naomi couldn't quash that growing ball of worry in the pit of her stomach. There were too many unknowns, and too little time to even start to figure them out.

The cab sped west—toward the Underworld, the end of their quest, and their fate.

At sunset, the taxi dropped them off at the beach in Santa Monica. The Californian beach looked the way it always did in movies, only it smelled worse. There were carnival rides lining the pier, palm trees lining the sidewalks, homeless guys sleeping in the sand dunes and surfer dudes waiting for the perfect wave.

Naomi, Percy, Grover, and Annabeth walked down to the edge of the surf.

"What now?" Annabeth asked.

Percy stepped into the surf.

"Percy?" Naomi asked. "What are you doing?"

He kept walking, up to his waist, then his chest.

Annabeth called after him, "You know how polluted that water is? There're all kinds of toxic chemicals and—and he's underwater. Great." She sighed, looking at Naomi and Grover. "What do we do now?"

Grover plopped down in the sand. "I guess we wait."

They didn't have to wait too long.

When Percy returned from his swim and reached the beach, he told them what had happened—the Nereid who'd visited him, warning him not to trust gifts and then, obviously, giving him one herself.

He held out a hand and showed them the four pearls the sea spirit had given him.

Annabeth grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

"They were free."

"No." She shook her head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into English. There will be a price. You wait."

On that happy note, they turned their backs on the sea.

With some spare change from Ares's backpack, they took the bus into West Hollywood. Percy showed the driver the Underworld address slip from Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium, but he'd never heard of DOA Recording Studios.

"You remind me of somebody I saw on TV," he told Percy. "You a child actor or something?"

"Uh... I'm a stunt double... for a lot of child actors."

"Oh! That explains it."

They thanked him and got off quickly at the next stop.

They wandered for hours on foot, looking for DOA. Nobody seemed to know where it was. It didn't appear in the phone book.

"Nay, you have any idea which way we should be heading?" Percy asked.

Naomi frowned, confused. "Why would I know where to go?"

Percy considered the question for a moment. "Well, if you-know-who is your dad—not saying he is, but if he is... maybe you'd, like... know where to find the entrance to the Underworld?"

Naomi blinked, but before she could say anything to that, Annabeth beat her to that.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, clearly trying to figure out his thought process.

"I'm just saying, if he is her dad, then she'd be, like, connected to the Underworld, and she might have... I don't know, a feeling or something? Like she'd sense if we're close or not?"

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose like she was trying to stave off a migraine. "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say."

"Wha—it was a hunch!" Percy argued. "Maybe a child of an Underworld god would sense where it is or something! I can sense when we're close to the sea!"

"That's not the same thing!" Annabeth protested.

"How do you know?" Percy asked. "Do you have experience with children of Hades? Hmm? Have you ever met one?"

Annabeth's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. "No, but—"

"Ha!"

"—but that's a stupid hunch," Annabeth said. "Besides, the Underworld's huge, and it's always under us. Even if she could sense it, it wouldn't even work because she'd always sense it, so why don't you just—"

"Cops!" Grover exclaimed, herding them into an alley to hide.

Yeah—that had been happening a lot, too.

As they wandered, they came upon an appliance store window with a TV playing an interview of someone who looked like Percy's stepdad—though Naomi had only met him twice in person, and she deliberately avoided any and all eye contact with the frightening man, so she couldn't be positive.

Percy seemed to be, though.

His stepdad was talking to a reporter in Percy's apartment, and there was a young blonde lady sitting next to him, patting his hand.

A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, "Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn't for Sugar here—my grief counselor—I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife... my Camaro... I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

"There you have it, America." The reporter turned to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of this troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy shot of him, Naomi, Annabeth, and Grover standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.

"One of the girls with him has been identified as missing Manhattan orphan Naomi Murphy, a classmate of Percy Jackson and former resident of St. Monica's Orphanage. The other two children have yet to be identified. Who are they?" the reporter asked dramatically. "Is Percy Jackson a terrorist, or perhaps a brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we'll chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

Naomi was a little surprised—she hadn't expected the nuns to even report her missing. She wouldn't be the first kid to run away, and she definitely wouldn't be the last. The fact that they'd even gone to the police... well, she couldn't decide if she was flattered or just annoyed.

"C'mon," Grover said, hauling Percy away before he could punch a hole in the appliance-store window.

It got dark, and sketchy characters started coming out on the streets. Naomi remembered the last time she'd been out in the city too late, but luckily, no hungry Cyclopes came out to play.

Instead, it was gangbangers, bums, and street hawkers, who looked at them like they were trying to decide if they were worth the trouble of mugging.

As they hurried past the entrance of an alley, a voice from the darkness said, "Hey, you."

Like an idiot, Percy stopped.

Naomi barely had time to take a breath before they were surrounded. A gang of kids had circled them—six white kids with expensive clothes and mean faces. Just like the kids at Yancy Academy: rich brats playing at being tough.

Percy uncapped his pen.

When the sword appeared out of nowhere, most of the kids backed off, but their leader was either really stupid or really brave, because he kept coming at them with a switchblade.

Percy swung, which probably would have been fatally effective, if not for the fact that this kid was apparently one-hundred percent mortal. The blade passed harmlessly right through his chest.

He looked down. "What the...?"

"Run!" Percy screamed.

They pushed two kids out of the way and raced down the street, not sure where they were going.

They turned a sharp corner, and Annabeth shouted, "There!"

Only one store on the block looked open, its windows glaring with neon.

"Crusty's Waterbed Palace?" Grover read aloud.

They burst through the doors, ran behind a waterbed, and ducked. A split second later, the gang kids ran past outside.

"I think we lost them," Grover panted.

A voice behind them boomed, "Lost who?"

They all jumped.

Standing behind them was a guy who looked like a raptor in a leisure suit. He was definitely over six feet tall, with absolutely no hair. He had gray leathery skin, thick-lidded eyes, and a cold reptilian smile. He moved toward them slowly, but Naomi had a feeling he could move faster if he needed to.

His suit was flashy and looked vintage, like it was from the seventies or something. The shirt was silk paisley, unbuttoned halfway down his hairless chest. The lapels on his velvet jacket were as wide as landing strips. There were so many silver chains around his neck Naoi couldn't even count them all.

"I'm Crusty," he said, with a tartar-yellow smile.

"Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just, um, browsing."

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," he grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a waterbed?"

Before any of them could decline, he clamped a hand on Percy's shoulder and steered him deeper into the showroom.

His companions had no choice but to nervously follow.

There was every kind of waterbed you could imagine: different kinds of wood, different patterns of sheets; queen-size, king-size, emperor-of-the-universe-size.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands proudly over a bed covered with black satin sheets, with built-in Lava Lamps on the headboard. The mattress vibrated, so it looked like oil-flavored jelly.

"Million-hand massage," Crust told them. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway."

"Um," Percy started to say, "I don't think..."

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried out, diving in. "Oh, you guys! This is cool."

"Hmm," Crusty said, stroking his leathery chin. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" Percy asked.

He looked at Naomi, shaking his head almost immediately. Then he looked at Annabeth. "Do me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Annabeth said, "But what—?"

He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and led her over to the Safari Deluxe model with teakwood lions carved into the frame and a leopard-patterned bedspread. When Annabeth didn't want to lie down, Crusty pushed her.

"Hey!" she protested.

Crusty snapped his fingers. "Ergo!"

Ropes sprang from the sides of the bed, lashing around Annabeth, holding her to the mattress.

Grover tried to get up, but ropes sprang from his black-satin bed, too, and lashed him down.

"Not cool!" he yelled, his voice vibrating from the million-hand massage. "Not cool at all!"

The giant looked at Annabeth, then turned toward Percy and grinned. "Almost. Darn it."

Percy tried to step away, but Crusty's hand shot out and clamped around the back of his neck, dragging him forward. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. This one should work for you."

Percy tried to get out of the man's hold, but clearly his grip strength was deceptively high. He managed to grapple with Percy long enough to push him onto a waterbed with a sleek gold metal frame and metallic vines carved into the headboard.

And just like that, Naomi was facing the scary waterbed salesman one-on-one.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, gripping the hilt of her sword, more frightened than angry. "Let my friends go!"

"Oh, sure I will," Crusty said. "But I got to make them fit, first."

"'Fit'?" Naomi asked.

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit." He smirked cruelly at her.

Naomi's friends kept struggling.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. "Ergo!"

A new set of ropes leaped out from the top and bottom of the beds, wrapping around each of her friends' ankles, then around their armpits. The ropes started tightening, pulling her friends from both ends.

"Don't worry," Crusty told her, clamping a hand over the back of her neck. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe three or four extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now, let's see if there's a bed for you, huh? I doubt you'll survive the stretching process, but there's always hope!"

"Naomi!" Grover yelled.

Her mind was racing. There was no way in hell she could take this giant waterbed salesman alone. Even if she could get her sword out without him snapping her neck first, her sword fighting skills were lackluster at best.

"Your real name's not Crusty, is it?" she asked.

"Legally, it's Procrustes," he admitted.

"The Stretcher." She remembered the story from Mr. Brunner's class: the giant who'd tried to kill Theseus with over-hospitality on his way to Athens.

"Yeah," the salesman said. "But who can pronounce 'Procrustes'? Bad for business. Now 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

For once, Naomi's chronic desire to people-please came in handy. "That's true. It has a nice ring to it."

Crusty's eyes lit up. "You think so?"

"Oh, absolutely," Naomi said. "And—and the craft on these beds? It's amazing. You're like an artist!"

He grinned hugely—almost bashfully, even. "Really?" he asked. "You know, no one really appreciates the creativity that goes into making these things. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in Lava Lamp headboards have you seen?"

"None before today."

"That's right!"

"Naomi!" Annabeth yelled. "What are you doing?"

My best.

"Don't mind her," Naomi told Procrustes. "She's... difficult."

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

"What... uh, what do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

He let go of her neck, but before she could even react to her newfound freedom, he reached behind a nearby sales desk and brought out a huge double-bladed brass ax. He said, "I just center the subject as best as I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

"Ah," Naomi said, swallowing hard. "Smart."

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

The ropes were really stretching her friends now. Annabeth was turning pale. Grover made gurgling sounds like a strangled goose. Percy was trying in vain to kick his way out of the restraints, but it was no use.

"So, Crusty..." Naomi said, trying to keep her voice light. She glanced at the sales tag on the valentine-shaped Honeymoon Special. "Does this one really have... 'dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion'?"

"Absolutely. Try it out."

"Uh... maybe I will. But would it even work for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

"Prove it."

He sat down eagerly on the bed, patting the mattress. "No waves. See?"

Naomi snapped her fingers. "Ergo."

Ropes lashed out around Crusty and flattened him against the mattress, centering him right in the middle of the waterbed.

"Hey!" he yelled.

His head stuck out over the top of the mattress, his feet over the edge. As he realized this, he started to look panicked. "No! Wait! This is just a demo."

Naomi drew her sword.

"You drive a hard bargain," Crusty told her. "I'll give you thirty percent off on selected floor models!"

Naomi grimaced as she raised her sword. Sure, Crusty was a monster, but she wasn't happy to kill him.

So she closed her eyes as she cut his head off.

Making a point not to look at him, Naomi rushed over to her friends, cutting the ropes on the other beds. Annabeth, Grover, and Percy got to their feet, groaning and wincing.

"I can't believe that worked," Naomi said, breathless with relief.

"Make it work faster next time," Annabeth grumbled.

As they recovered from their stretching torture, Naomi looked at the bulletin board behind Crusty's sales desk. There was an advertisement for the All-New Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—The only Monstrous Yellow Pages you'll ever need!

Under that, a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios, offering commissions for heroes' souls. We are always looking for new talent! DOA's address was right underneath with a map.

Naomi grinned. "Come on," she told her friends.

"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were almost stretched to death!"

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," Naomi said. "It's only a block from here."

Chapter 19: xvii. naomi murphy, child of hades?

Summary:

Percy POV

Chapter Text

THEY STOOD IN THE SHADOWS of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

Percy turned to his friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative."

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the four milky spheres the Nereid had given him in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup plan if things went south.

Naomi squeezed his arm, giving him a reassuring smile. "We're gonna be okay."

Whether she truly believed that or was just trying to make him feel better, Percy couldn't tell.

Annabeth sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. Naomi's right—we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

Percy nodded, looking a little more confident. He slipped the pearls back into his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

They walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy could see them all just fine, but if he focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. He could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so they had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with dark skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoise-shell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. Percy couldn't see anything in his glasses except his own reflection, but the guard's smile was sweet and cold, like a python's—right before it struck.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched his name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It said C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," Percy said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

His question caught Percy off-guard. He looked at Annabeth for support.

"We want to go to the Underworld," she said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" Naomi asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked them over. "How did you die, then?"

Percy nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in a bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked.

They all nodded.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"We have coins," Naomi said. She set four golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash she'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

They were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. The cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Percy insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told them. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but Percy snatched them back.

"No service, no tip."

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," Percy sighed. "We had more to offer."

He took the bag from Naomi, holding it up to show Charon. He took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through his fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godly? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," Percy said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always, 'Please don't let me be dead,' or 'Please let me across for free..' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," Percy agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, Percy stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

Percy stacked a few more coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

Charon sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you four and be off."

He stood, scooped up their money, and said, "Come along."

They pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at their clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things Percy couldn't make out.

Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted them into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with them and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the door. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and they started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

Percy got a sudden dizzy feeling. They weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around him were changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

He blinked. When he opened his eyes, Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw Percy looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," Percy managed.

He thought Charon was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting Percy see straight through his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When Percy blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. They were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling them across a dark, oily river swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above them, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up Percy's throat. What was he doing here? These people around him... they were dead.

He reached for Naomi's hand with his right, just as Annabeth took hold of his left. Under normal circumstances, he might have been embarrassed—but he knew they were all feeling the same thing. They wanted the reassurance that they weren't the only living beings on this boat.

Percy found himself muttering a prayer, though he wasn't quite sure who he was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one Percy had come to confront.

Percy would never admit it out loud, but for a moment, he almost hoped Naomi really was a child of Hades. At least that might give them an advantage.

Then again, Percy wasn't sure Hades would even care about whether he killed his own kid or not.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about fifty meters to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as they could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of their boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm-in-arm. A boy no older than Percy, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted their golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

They followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

Percy wasn't sure what he was expecting—the Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said: YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a passthrough metal detector mounted with security cameras. Beyond that were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but Percy couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerebus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere in sight.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked: ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked: EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to Asphodel," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Fields of Asphodel."

"And do what?" Naomi asked.

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's the preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy did remember now. He'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff.

"I had to take a picture with that guy," Naomi muttered, clearly not pleased to see him again. "He was a jerk to the kids at St. Monica's. What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fu—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made Percy shudder. He was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell..."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. They're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

They got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at their feet, but Percy still couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

Then, about fifteen meters in front of them, the green mist shimmered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

Percy hadn't seen it before because it was half-transparent, like the dead. Until it moved, it blended with whatever was behind it. Only its eyes and teeth looked solid. And it was staring straight at him.

Percy's jaw hung open. All he could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

He'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, mostly invisible, and had three heads.

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," he muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward them. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," Percy said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to him. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. He'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

They moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at them, then barked so loud Percy's eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" Naomi asked Grover.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bed post he'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alop commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants. He tried to smile like he wasn't about to die.

"Hey, Big Fella," Percy called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," Percy said weakly.

He waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. He had Cerberus's undivided attention.

He wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" He threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. He heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at him, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Naomi said. She was clearly terrified, but that didn't stop her from stepping out in front of them—closer to the hungry monster.

"Naomi, what are you doing?" Annabeth hissed.

"It's just like the hellhound at camp," Naomi said nervously. "Right?"

"Cerberus isn't a hellhound," Annabeth told her. "He's the father of hellhounds."

"Well... let's hope the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Before any of them could stop her, Naomi took another step closer, and whistled, gaining the monster's attention.

Cerberus's three heads bent to look down at her.

"He—hey, big guy—s. Hey, big guys," Naomi said, craning her head to look up at the beast.

Then, as if she couldn't be any more reckless, she held a hand out over her head, inviting any one of the heads to chomp it right off.

But, to Percy's shock—and relief—it didn't. All three heads looked a little confused, but the middle one bent down, sniffing at her hand. Then the left head moved in, then the right, each of them sniffing her hand.

Not a single one of them made a move to bite it.

Cerberus made a deep, frightening noise in his three throats, but Naomi didn't move. Percy and Annabeth looked at Grover for a translation.

"He's confused," Grover said quietly. "He's trying to figure out where he's seen her before."

"He recognizes her?" Annabeth asked.

Cerberus whimpered, which was only slightly less terrifying than his growl.

"I don't... I don't think so," Grover explained. "But he knows her scent."

"If she is a child of Hades..." Annabeth looked pale in the darkness. "Cerberus might recognize that."

Percy swallowed hard. The voice of the Oracle whispered in his mind: You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend.

Then, Chiron's cryptic warning: Naomi may be the key to your success in the Underworld... or your demise.

He didn't want to even entertain the thought, but he couldn't help it. The dread of it settled heavy in his stomach.

He and Naomi had been friends longer than he'd been friends with Grover, way longer than he'd even known Annabeth. If any of them was to betray him, she should have been at the bottom of his list of suspects—if she was even on the list at all.

But if she really was a child of Hades, and her father was about to try to kill Percy and stop them from completing their quest...

Could he be one-hundred percent sure she'd choose her friends over her father?

Chapter 20: xviii. flying by the belt-loop of her pants

Chapter Text

NAOMI WAS FLYING BY THE SEAT OF HER PANTS. No, not even the seat of her pants—she was flying by a freaking belt-loop.

Cerberus peered down at her, making no move to attack, which was just about the only good thing Naomi had going for her.

"Good boy," Naomi said, her voice still shaky. If Cerberus could smell her fear, he didn't make any show of it. "Now... I need you to let my friends and I pass."

Cerberus whimpered, sounding confused. He cocked his heads to the side, which might have been kind of adorable if he wasn't the size of a building.

"Uh, Nay... he's not convinced," Grover spoke up.

Naomi chewed on her lip. A plan started to form in her mind—the roughest of rough drafts, but it was still something. "Um... Cerberus, how... how would you like a friend to play with?"

Cerberus tilted his heads to the other side. He barked, and the sound caused a mini-earthquake.

"He likes the sound of that," Grover translated weakly. "Um... do you have a friend in mind, Nay?"

"Maybe," she answered. She was half-convinced the plan wouldn't work, and not only would she have signed her and her friends' death warrants, but it would also be really embarrassing.

Please let this work.

She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled as loudly and sharply as she could. The sound echoed in the open air.

"Please, please, please, please," she chanted under her breath.

It was silent for what felt like forever, but couldn't have been more than a few seconds. Naomi's shoulders dropped in defeat—nothing was happening. Her plan was stupid, of course that wouldn't work, how could she expect her to—

Another bark sounded from behind her, and an unstoppable smile spread across Naomi's face as she turned.

"Skia!" she called. "Here, girl!"

The beast that had saved Naomi from the Cyclopes and brought her to Camp Half-Blood leaped over Naomi's companions' heads, landing at Naomi's side with her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

Skia barked again, licking the side of Naomi's face.

"Good girl!" Naomi praised, hugging the hellhound's neck. "Good girl!"

Trying to stifle her grin, she returned her attention back to the three-headed beast still looming over her. "Cerberus, this—this is my friend, Ski—"

Two of Cerberus's heads barked excitedly, the other nipping harmlessly at Skia's ear. Skia barked as well, clearly just as excited, and tried to pounce on Cerberus's left head. She missed, but she popped back up, barking happily.

"They know each other," Grover explained, gulping. "Old friends."

"So... what now?" Percy asked.

Skia sprinted toward the ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines, scattering spirits and ghouls alike. Naomi worried for a moment Cerberus would stay to keep guarding the doors, but he chased after Skia almost immediately.

"Now, we go," Annabeth said. "EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

They made it through the line almost completely without incident.

And then they passed through the metal detectors.

The machine immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Behind them, Cerberus started to bark.

They burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, they were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That Naomi has a pet hellhound?"

"No," Grover told him. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

The Fields of Asphodel reminded Naomi of a graveyard with ghosts in place of headstones.

The black grass had been trampled by eons of dead feet. A warm, moist wind blew like the breath of a swamp. Black trees—Grover called them poplars—grew in clumps here and there. The cavern ceiling was so high above them it might've been a bank of storm clouds, except for the stalactites, which glowed faint gray and looked wickedly pointed.

Naomi, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover tried to blend into the crowd, keeping an eye out for security ghouls. Some of the spirits tried to speak to them, but their voices sounded like chatter, like bats twittering. Once they realized Naomi and her companions couldn't understand them, they'd frown and move away.

The dead weren't scary. They were just sad.

The questers crept along, following the line of new arrivals that snaked from the main gates toward a black-tented pavilion with a banner that read:

JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION.

Welcome, Newly Deceased!

Out of the back of the tent came two much smaller lines.

To the left, spirits flanked by security ghouls were marched down a rocky path toward the Fields of Punishment, which glowed and smoked in the distance—a vast, cracked wasteland with rivers of lava and minefields and miles of barbed wire separating the different torture areas. Even from far away, Naomi could see people being chased by hellhounds, burned at the stake, forced to run naked through cactus patches or listen to opera music. She could make out a tiny hill, with the ant-size figure of Sisyphus struggling to move his boulder to the top.

The line coming from the right side of the judgment pavilion was much better. This one led down toward a small valley surrounded by walls—a gated community, which seemed to be the only happy part of the Underworld. Beyond the security gate were neighborhoods of beautiful houses from every time period in history—Roman villas, medieval castles, Victorian mansions. Silver and gold flowers bloomed on the lawns. The grass rippled in rainbow colors. She could hear laughter and smell barbeque cooking.

Elysium.

In the middle of that valley was a glittering blue lake, with three small islands like a vacation resort in the Bahamas. The Isles of the Blest, for people who had chosen to be reborn three times, and three times achieved Elysium.

"That's what it's all about," Annabeth said. "That's the place for heroes."

Naomi thought of how few people there were in Elysium—how tiny it was compared to Asphodel, or even Punishment. So few people did enough good in their lives to earn a place there. It was depressing.

They left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into Asphodel. It got darker. The colors faded from their clothes. The crowds of chattering spirits began to thin.

After a few miles of walking, they began to hear a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was a palace of glittering black obsidian. Above the parapets swirled three dark, bat-like creatures: the Furies.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"We'll be fine," Naomi said, trying to sound more sure than she actually felt.

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance..."

"Come on, goat boy." Annabeth grabbed his arm.

Grover yelped. His trainers sprouted wings and his legs shot forward, pulling him away from Annabeth. He landed flat on his back in the grass.

"Grover," Annabeth chided. "Stop messing around."

"But I didn't—"

He yelped again. His shoes were flapping like crazy now. They levitated off the ground and started dragging him away.

"Maia!" he yelled, but the magic word seemed to have no effect. "Maia, already! 911! Help!"

Percy got over his shock, making a grab for Grover's hand, but it was too late. Grover was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled.

Naomi, Percy, and Annabeth ran after him.

Annabeth shouted, "Untie the shoes!"

It was a smart idea, but Naomi figured it wasn't easy when your shoes were pulling you along feet-first at full speed. Grover tried to sit up, but he couldn't get close to the laces.

They kept after him, trying to keep him in sight as he zipped between the legs of spirits who chattered at him in annoyance.

Naomi was sure Grover was going to barrel straight through the gates of Hades's palace, but his shoes veered sharply to the right and dragged him in the opposite direction.

The slope got steeper. Grover picked up speed. Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy had to sprint to keep up. The cavern walls narrowed on either side, and Naomi realized they'd entered some kind of side tunnel. No black grass or trees now, just rock underfoot, and the dim light of the stalactites above.

"Grover!" Percy yelled, his voice echoing. "Hold on to something!"

"What?" he yelled back.

He was grabbing at gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow him down.

The tunnel got darker and colder. The hairs on Naomi's arms bristled. It smelled evil down here, like blood spilled on an ancient stone altar, or the foul breath of a murderer.

Then they saw what was ahead of them, and Percy stopped dead in his tracks.

The tunnel widened into a huge dark cavern, and in the middle was a chasm the size of a city block.

Grover was sliding straight toward the edge.

"Come on!" Annabeth yelled, tugging at Percy's wrist.

"But that's—"

"I know!" Annabeth shouted. "The place you described in your dream! But Grover's going to fall if we don't catch him."

That got him moving again.

Grover was yelling, clawing at the ground, but the winged shoes kept dragging him toward the pit, and it didn't look like they could possibly get to him in time.

What saved him were his hooves.

The flying sneakers had always been a loose fit on him, and finally Grover hit a big rock and the left shoe came flying off. It sped into the darkness, down into the chasm. The right shoe kept tugging him along, but not as fast. Grover was able to slow himself down by grabbing on to the big rock and using it like an anchor.

He was three meters from the edge of the put when they caught him and hauled him back up the slope. The other winged shoes tugged itself off, circled around them angrily and kicked their heads in protest before flying off into the chasm to join its twin.

They all collapsed, exhausted, on the obsidian gravel. Naomi's limps felt like they'd turned into lead.

Grover was scratched up pretty bad. His hands were bleeding. His eyes had gone slit-pupiled, goat-style, the way they did when he was terrified.

"I don't know how..." he panted. "I didn't..."

"Wait," Percy said. "Listen."

Naomi frowned. Then she heard something—a deep whisper in the darkness.

Another few seconds, and Annabeth said, "Percy, this place—"

"Shh." He stood.

The sound was getting louder—a muttering, evil voice from far, far below them. Coming from the pit.

Grover sat up. "Wh—what's that noise?"

Annabeth heard it now, too—Naomi could see it in her eyes. "Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus."

Percy uncapped his sword.

The bronze blade expanded, gleaming in the darkness, and the evil voice seemed to falter, just for a moment, before resuming its chant.

Naomi could almost make out words now—ancient, ancient words, older even than Greek. As if...

"Magic," Percy said.

"We have to get out of here," Annabeth said.

Together, the three demigods got Grover back to his hooves and started back down the tunnel. Naomi's legs wouldn't move fast enough. The voice got louder and angrier behind them, and they broke into a run.

Not a moment too soon.

A cold blast of wind pulled at their backs, as if the entire pit were inhaling. They struggled to keep their footing in the gravel. If they'd been any closer to the edge, they would've been sucked in.

They kept struggling forward, and finally reached the top of the tunnel, where the cavern widened out into the Fields of Asphodel. The wind died. A wail of outrage echoed from deep in the tunnel.

Something was not happy they'd gotten away.

"What was that?" Grover panted once they'd collapsed in the relative safety of a black poplar grove. "One of Hades's pets?"

Annabeth and Percy looked at each other, both of them looking frightened.

Percy capped his sword, putting it back in his pocket. "Let's keep going." He looked at Grover. "Can you walk?"

He swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I never liked those shoes, anyway."

He tried to sound brave about it, but he was trembling as badly as the rest of them. Whatever was in that pit was nobody's pet. It was unspeakably old and powerful. Naomi was almost relieved to turn her back on that tunnel and head toward the palace of Hades.

Almost.

The Furies circled the parapets, high in the gloom. The outer walls of the fortress glittered black, and the two-story-tall bronze gates stood wide open.

Up close, Naomi saw engravings on the gates were scenes of death. Some were from modern times—an atomic bomb exploding over a city, a trench filled with gas mask-wearing soldiers, a line of African famine victims waiting with empty bowls—but all of them looked as if they'd been etched into the bronze thousands of years ago.

Inside the courtyard was the strangest garden Naomi had ever seen. Multicolored mushrooms, poisonous shrubs, and weird luminous plants grew without sunlight. Precious jewels made up for the lack of actual flowers—piles of rubies as big as a fist, clumps of raw diamonds. Standing here and there like frozen party guests were Medusa's garden statues—petrified children, satyrs, and centaurs, all smiling grotesquely.

In the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, their orange blooms neon bright in the dark.

"The garden of Persephone," Annabeth said. "Keep walking."

Naomi understood why she wanted to move on. The tart smell of those pomegranates was almost overwhelming. She wanted to eat one, just to taste it, but then she remembered the story of Persephone. One bite of Underworld food, and they'd never be able to leave.

Percy pulled Grover away to keep him from picking a big juicy one, and they trudged on.

They walked up the steps of the palace, between black columns, through a black marble portico and into the house of Hades. The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, which seemed to boil in the reflected torchlight. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, far above. Naomi guessed they never had to worry about rain down in the Underworld.

Every side doorway was guarded by a skeleton in military gear. Some wore Greek armor, some British redcoat uniforms, some camouflage with tattered American flags on the shoulders. They carried spears or muskets or M-16s. None of them bothered the questers, but their hollow eye sockets followed them as they walked down the hall, toward the big set of doors at the opposite end.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at them, rocket-propelled grenade launchers held across their chests.

"You know," Grover mumbled, "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

Without even thinking about it, Naomi reached for Percy's hand, suddenly terrified—not because they were about to either make or break their quest, or even because they were about to face the god of the dead and king of the Underworld.

No, she was terrified because, behind those doors was a man who could very well be her father—the god who'd abandoned her at birth and hadn't even claimed her yet.

Percy squeezed her hand.

"Well, guys," he said. "I suppose we should... knock?"

A hot wind blew down the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside.

"I guess that means 'entrez,'" Annabeth said.

The room inside was just like Percy described from his dream, except this time, the throne of Hades was occupied.

He was the third god Naomi had met, but the first that actually looked like one.

He was at least ten feet tall, for one thing, and dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was paper-white, his hair shoulder-length and jet black. He wasn't bulked up like Ares, but he radiated power. He lounged on his throne of fused human bones, looking lithe, graceful, and as dangerous as a panther.

Subtly, Naomi looked at a piece of her own hair. The color was almost identical... though black was a fairly common hair color, so that didn't necessarily mean anything.

"You are brave to come here, son of Poseidon," he said in an oily voice. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

Percy squeezed Naomi's hand again before letting go, stepping toward the god's throne. "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. When he sat forward in his throne, shadowy faces appeared in the golds of his black robes, faces of torment, as if the garment were stitched with trapped souls from the Fields of Punishment, trying to get out.

"Only two requests?" Hades said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not already taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

Naomi glanced at the empty, smaller throne next to Hades's. It was shaped like a black flower, gilded with gold. Despite the fact that Hades might have been her father (which would probably make his wife hate Naomi's guts), part of Naomi wished the queen was there. In the myths Naomi remembered of Hades, Persephone had a way of calming his temper.

But it was the middle of summer. Of course, Persephone was in the world of light with her mother, Demeter. Her visits, not the tilt of the earth, created the seasons.

Annabeth cleared her throat, prodding Percy in the back.

"Lord Hades," he said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be... bad."

"Really bad," Grover added helpfully.

"Return Zeus's master bolt to me," Percy said. "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus."

Hades's eyes glowed dangerously bright. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?"

Percy glanced back at his friends.

"Um... Uncle," he said. "You keep saying 'after what I've done.' What exactly have I done?"

The throne room shook with a tremor so strong they probably felt it upstairs in Los Angeles. Debris fell from the cavern ceiling. Doors burst open all along the walls, and skeletal warriors marched in, hundreds of them, from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

Hades bellowed, "Do you think I want war, godling?"

"You are the Lord of the Dead," Percy said carefully. "A war could expand your kingdom, right?"

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of Asphodel?"

"Well..."

"Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in this past century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?"

Percy went to respond, but Hades was on a roll now.

"More security ghouls," he moaned. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!"

"Charon wants a pay raise," Percy blurted out.

Annabeth buried her face in her hands, exasperated.

"Don't get me started on Charon!" Hades yelled. "He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle all of them personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gates is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving. No, godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war."

"But you took Zeus's master bolt," Percy said.

"Lies!" More rumbling. Hades rose from his throne, towering to the height of a football goal post. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not stupid. I see his plan."

"His plan?"

"You were the thief on the winter solstice," he said. "Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus. You took the master bolt and my helmet. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you and your little friend at Yancy Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my helmet back!"

"But..." Annabeth spoke. Naomi could tell her mind was going a million miles an hour. "Lord Hades, your helmet of darkness is missing, too?"

"Do not play innocent with me, girl," Hades sneered. "You two girls and the satyr have been helping this hero—coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

"No!" Percy said. "Poseidon didn't—I didn't—"

"I have said nothing of the helmet's disappearance," Hades snarled, "because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

"You didn't try to stop us? But—"

"Return my helmet now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counter-proposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson—your skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The skeletal soldiers all took one step forward, making their weapons ready.

"You're as bad as Zeus," Percy said, his eyes narrowed into a glare. "You think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

"Of course," Hades said.

"You'd risk Naomi getting hurt just to get to me?" Percy demanded.

Hades shrugged. "Collateral damage," he said. "It happens."

Naomi's throat tightened. Ouch...

"And the other monsters?" Percy asked.

Hades curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you—I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?"

"Easily?"

"Return my property!"

"But I don't have your helmet," Percy insisted angrily. "I came for the master bolt."

"Which you already possess!" Hades shouted. "You came here with it. Little fool, thinking you could threaten me!"

"But I didn't!"

"Open your pack, then."

Percy slung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it.

Inside was a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with energy.

Chapter 21: xix. percy fights a god

Chapter Text

"PERCY," Annabeth said. "How—?"

"I—I don't know. I don't understand."

"You heroes are always the same," Hades said. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. and now... my helmet. Where is it?"

Percy looked like the world had just turned upside down.

"Lord Hades, wait," he said. "This is all a mistake."

"A mistake?" Hades roared.

The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, there was a fluttering of leathery wings, and the three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of their master's throne.

"There is no mistake," Hades said. "I know why you have come—I know the real reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for her."

Hades loosed a ball of gold fire from his palm. It exploded on the steps in front of Percy, and there was Sally Jackson, frozen in a shower of gold.

Percy reached out to touch her, but Naomi could feel the heat even from a few feet away.

"Yes," Hades said with satisfaction. "I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helmet, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change."

Percy hesitated.

"Ah, the pearls," Hades said. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson."

Percy brought the pearls out of his pocket.

"Only four," Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each only protects a single person. Try to take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms."

Percy looked at his companions.

"We were tricked," he told them. "Set up."

"Yes, but why?" Annabeth asked. "And the voice in the pit—"

"I don't know yet," Percy said. "But I intend to ask."

"Decide, boy!" Hades yelled.

"Percy." Grover put his hand on Percy's shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt."

"I know that."

"Leave me here," he said. "Use the third pearl on your mom."

"No!"

"I'm a satyr," Grover said. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated as a flower or something. It's the best way."

Naomi swallowed hard, shaking her head. "No, I'll stay. If—If I'm a child of the Underworld, then—"

Annabeth shook her head. "You heard the way he talked about you," she whispered. "There's no way you're his child. Even Underworld gods aren't that callous when it comes to their children."

"But what else—?" Naomi started to ask.

"You three go on," Annabeth insisted, drawing her bronze knife. "Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

"No way," Grover said. "I'm staying behind."

"Think again, goat boy," Annabeth said.

"It should be me," Naomi argued. "If anyone has to stay behind—"

"Stop it, all of you!" Percy interrupted. He looked like he was being torn into pieces, but he steeled his expression. "I know what to do. Take these."

He handed each of them a pearl.

"But, Percy..." Naomi whispered.

Percy turned and faced his mother. In the low light, his eyes glistened with tears.

"I'm sorry," he told his mother. "I'll be back. I'll find a way."

The smug look on Hades's face faded. He said, "Godling...?"

"I'll find your helmet, Uncle," Percy told him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

"Do not defy me—"

"And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He gets lonely."

"Percy Jackson, you will not—"

Percy shouted, "Now, guys!"

They smashed the pearls at their feet. For a scary moment, nothing happened.

Hades yelled, "Destroy them!"

The army of skeletons rushed forward, swords out, guns clicking to full automatic. The Furies lunged, their whips bursting into flame.

Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearls exploded at their feet with a burst of green light and a gust of fresh sea wind. They were all encased in milky white spheres, which were starting to float off the ground.

Spears and bullets sparked harmlessly off the pearl bubbles as they floated up. Hades yelled with such rage, the entire fortress shook.

"Look up!" Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"

Sure enough, they were racing right toward the stalactites, which would probably pop their bubbles and then skewer them.

"How do you control these things?" Annabeth shouted.

"I don't know!" Percy shouted back.

They screamed as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and... darkness.

Were they dead?

No, Naomi didn't feel dead. She felt like she was still moving. They were going up, right through solid rock as easily as an air bubble in water. That was the power of the pearls.

For a few moments, Naomi couldn't see anything outside the smooth walls of her sphere—then the pearl broke through on the ocean floor. The other three spheres, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover, were right next to her as they soured upward through the water. And ker-blam!

They exploded on the surface, in the middle of Los Angeles Bay, knocking a surfer off his board with an indignant, "Dude!"

Percy helped them over to a lifebuoy. A curious shark was circling them—a great white about ten feet long.

Percy said, "Beat it."

The shark turned and raced away.

The surfer screamed something about bad mushrooms and paddled away from them as fast as he could.

In the distance, Los Angeles was on fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. There had been an earthquake, all right, and it was Hades's fault. He was probably sending an army of the dead after them right now.

But, unfortunately, they had bigger issues to deal with.

Like getting the master bolt back to Olympus in time to stop a war.

No pressure.

A Coast Guard boat picked them up, but they were too busy to keep them long, or to wonder how four kids in street clothes had got out into the middle of the bay. There was a disaster to mop up. Their radios were jammed with distress calls.

They dropped the questers off at the Santa Monica pier with towels around their shoulders and water bottles that said I'M A JUNIOR COAST GUARD! and then sped off to save more people.

Their clothes were sopping wet, and Percy was barefoot seeing as he'd given his shoes to Grover to hide the satyr's hooves.

All in all, the four of them were a sorry sight, to say the least.

After reaching dry land, they stumbled down the beach, watching the city burn against a beautiful sunrise.

"I don't believe it," Annabeth said. "We went all that way—"

"It was a trick," Percy said. "A strategy worthy of Athena."

"Hey," she warned.

"You get it, don't you?"

She dropped her eyes, her anger fading. "Yeah. I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody—?"

"Percy..." Annabeth said. "I'm sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry..."

Percy didn't seem to hear that—or maybe he was just pretending. "The prophecy was right," he said. "'You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war between the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helmet, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

Grover shook his head, mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

Percy stopped in his tracks, looking down the beach. "Gee, let me think."

There he was, waiting for them, in his black leather duster and his sunglasses, an aluminum baseball bat propped on his shoulder. His motorcycle rumbled beside him, its headlight turning the sand red.

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming genuinely pleased to see Percy. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," Percy said. "You stole the helmet and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power—that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice."

The idea seemed to amuse him. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this..."

From his pocket he took out a ski cap—the kind bank robbers wear—and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helmet of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares said. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"But they're your family!" Annabeth protested.

Ares shrugged. "Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

"You gave me the backpack in Denver," Percy said. "The master bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," Ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. It always returns to your pocket, right? Anyway, I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades... Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way—no loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself?" Percy asked. "Why send it to Hades?"

Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head. "Why didn't I... yeah... with that kind of fire-power..."

He held the trance for one second... two seconds...

Percy exchanged nervous looks with his friends.

Ares's face cleared. "I didn't want the trouble. Better to have you caught red-handed, holding the thing."

"You're lying," Percy said. "Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?"

"Of course it was!" Smoke drifted up from his sunglasses, as if they were about to catch fire.

"You didn't order the theft," Percy guessed. "Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around."

"I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

Percy hesitated. "Who said anything about dreams?"

Ares looked agitated, but he tried to cover it with a smirk.

"Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt back to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal."

He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even bigger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half-Blood. The beast pawed at the sand, glaring at Percy with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill.

Percy stepped into the surf. "Fight me yourself, Ares."

He laughed, but there was an edge to his laughter—an uneasiness. "You've only got one talent, kid: running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don't have what it takes."

"Scared?"

"In your adolescent dreams." But Ares's sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. "No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You're not at my level."

Annabeth said, "Percy, run!"

The giant boar charged, but Percy didn't run. As the boar rushed him, he uncapped his pen and sidestepped. His sword appeared in his hands. He slashed upward. The boar's severed right tusk fell at his feet, while the disoriented animal charged into the sea.

Percy shouted, "Wave!"

Immediately, a wave surged up from nowhere and engulfed the boar, wrapping around it like a blanket. The beast squealed once in terror. Then it was gone, swallowed by the sea.

Percy turned back to Ares. "Are you going to fight me now?" he asked. "Or are you going to hide behind another pet pig?"

Ares's face was purple with rage. "Watch it, kid, I could turn you into—"

"A cockroach," Percy said. "Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"

Flames danced along the rip of his glasses. "Oh, man, you are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot."

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helmet and the bolt are mine and you have to go away."

Ares sneered.

He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. "How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?"

Percy showed him his sword.

"That's cool, dead boy," Ares said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a coward," Percy corrected.

She swallowed. "Wear this, at least. For luck."

She took off her necklace, with her five years' worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around Percy's neck.

"Reconciliation," she said. "Athena and Poseidon together."

Percy managed a smile. "Thanks."

"And take this," Grover said. He handed Percy a flattened tin can that he'd probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

"Grover... I don't know what to say."

He patted Percy on the shoulder. Percy stuffed the tin can in his back pocket.

Naomi didn't really have any sentimental tokens on hand, so she settled for hugging him tightly. "You've got this," she whispered.

As they pulled apart, Ares snickered. "You all done saying goodbye?"

Ares came toward Percy, his black leather duster trailing behind him, his sword glinting like fire in the sunrise. "I've been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

Percy kept his feet in the surf, backing into the water up to his ankles.

Ares cleaved downward at Percy's head, but he wasn't there.

The water pushed him into the air and Percy catapulted over the god, slashing as he came down. But Ares was just as quick. He twisted, and the strike that should've caught him directly in the spine was deflected off the end of his sword hilt.

He grinned. "Not bad, not bad."

Naomi felt a little like she was watching a scene from a movie. Ares slashed again, and Percy was forced to jump onto dry land. He tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know his motive. He outmaneuvered Percy, pressing so hard Percy had to put all his effort into not getting sliced to pieces. He kept backing away from the surf. There were no openings to attack. Ares's sword had a reach three feet longer than Percy's.

Percy stepped inside with a thrust, but Ares was waiting for that. He knocked the blade out of Percy's hands and kicked him in the chest. Percy went airborne—fifteen, maybe twenty meters. Naomi winced as he landed in the sand of a dune.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "Cops!"

Naomi saw red lights flashing on the shoreline boulevard. Car doors were slamming.

"There, officer!" somebody yelled. "See?"

A gruff cop voice: "Looks like that kid on TV... what the heck..."

"That guy's armed," another cop said. "Call for backup."

Percy rolled to one side as Ares's blade slashed the sand.

Percy ran for his sword, scooped it up, and launched a swipe at Ares's face, only to find his blade deflected again.

Ares seemed to always be a step and a half ahead of Percy.

Percy stepped back toward the surf, forcing Ares to follow.

"Admit it, kid," Ares said. "You got no hope. I'm just toying with you."

A second cop car was pulling up, siren wailing. Spectators, people who had been wandering the streets because of the earthquake, were starting to gather. Among the crowd, Naomi thought she saw a few who were walking with the strange, trotting gait of disguised satyrs. There were shimmering forms of spirits, too, as if the dead had risen from Hades to watch the battle. She heard the flap of leather wings circling somewhere above.

More sirens.

Percy stepped further into the water, but Ares was fast. The tip of his blade grazed Percy's arm.

A police voice over a megaphone said, "Drop the guns! Set them on the ground. Now!"

Naomi frowned, confused. She looked at Percy's and Ares's weapons, and they seemed to be flickering; sometimes they looked like shotguns, sometimes swords.

Ares turned to glare at the spectators, which gave Percy a moment to breathe. There were five police cars now, and a line of officers crouching behind them, pistols trained on Percy and Ares.

"This is a private matter!" the god bellowed. "Be gone!"

He swept his hand, and a wall of red flame rolled across the patrol cars. The police barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded. The crowd behind them scattered, screaming.

Ares roared with laughter. "Now, little hero. Let's add you to the barbeque."

He slashed. Percy deflected with his blade. He got close enough to strike, tried to fake Ares out with a feint, but his blow was knocked aside. The waves were hitting him from behind now. Ares was up to his thighs, wading in after him.

Ares came toward him, grinning confidently. Percy lowered his sword, like he was too exhausted to keep fighting.

Annabeth grabbed Naomi's hand, and they both held on tight, watching in horror.

Ares raised his sword, and Percy jumped as a tidal wave crashed down on the god, rocketing straight over Ares.

A seven-foot wall of water smashed him full in the face, leaving him cursing and sputtering with a mouth full of seaweed. Percy landed behind him with a splash and feinted toward his head, as he'd done before. Ares turned in time to raise his sword, but this time he was disorientated—he didn't anticipate the trick. Percy changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed Riptide straight down into the water, sending the point through the god's heel.

The roar that followed made Hades's earthquake look like a minor event. The very sea was blasted back from Ares, leaving a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide.

Ichor, the golden blood of the gods, flowed from a gash in the war god's boot. The expression on his face was beyond hatred. It was pain, shock, complete disbelief that he'd been wounded.

He limped toward Percy, but something stopped him.

It was as if a cloud covered the sun, but worse. Light faded. Sound and color drained away. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing and making Naomi wonder what the point of fighting even was.

The darkness lifted.

Ares looked stunned.

Police cars were burning. The crowd of spectators had fled. Naomi, Annabeth, and Grover stood on the beach, in shock, watching the water flood back around Ares's feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide.

Ares lowered his sword.

"You have made an enemy, godling," he told Percy. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware."

His body began to glow.

"Percy!" Annabeth shouted. "Don't watch!"

She wrapped an arm around Naomi's shoulders, turning them both away as the god Ares revealed his true immortal form.

Then the light died.

They looked back. Ares was gone. The tide rolled out to reveal Hades's bronze helmet of darkness. Percy picked it up and walked over to his friends.

But before he got there, the Furies drifted down from the sky and landed in front of him.

The middle Fury—the one who looked like Mrs. Dodds—stepped forward. She looked disappointed.

"We saw the whole thing," she hissed. "So... it truly was not you?"

Percy tossed her the helmet, which caught her by surprise.

"Return that to Lord Hades," Percy said. "Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war."

She hesitated, then ran a forked tongue over her lips. "Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again..."

She cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their leathery wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

Percy finally joined his friends.

"Percy..." Grover said, staring at him in awe. "That was so incredibly..."

"Terrifying..." Annabeth said.

"Horror-inducing," Naomi offered.

"Cool!" Grover corrected.

"Did you guys feel that... whatever it was?" Percy asked.

All three of his companions nodded uneasily.

"Must've been the Furies overhead," Grover said.

Naomi wasn't so sure. Something had stopped Ares from killing Percy, and Naomi figured whatever could do that was a lot stronger than the Furies.

Percy reclaimed his backpack from Grover and looked inside. The master bolt was still there.

"We have to get back to New York," Percy said. "By tonight."

"That's impossible," Annabeth said, "unless we—"

"Fly," Percy agreed.

Annabeth stared at him. "Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus strike you out of the sky, and carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "Pretty much exactly like that. Come on."

Chapter 22: xx. a bouquet of lilies from a pretty girl

Chapter Text

NAOMI WASN'T SURE SHE'D EVER be able to wrap her head around how easily humans could wrap their minds around strange things and fit them into their own versions of reality.

According to the L.A. news, the explosion at the Santa Monica beach had been caused by a crazy kidnapper (a.k.a. Ares) who was the same man who'd abducted Percy Jackson, Naomi Murphy, and two other unidentified adolescents in New York and brought them across country on a ten-day odyssey of terror.

Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international criminal, after all. He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus trying to get away from his captor (and afterward, witnesses would even swear they had seen the leather-clad man on the bus—"Why didn't I remember him before?"). The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy Jackson and his three friends were safely in police custody.

The reporters fed them the whole story. They just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard at all), and played victimized kids for the cameras.

"All I want," Percy said, choking back his tears, "is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew... somehow... we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number."

Naomi had to hide her laugh by burying her face against Annabeth's shoulder, making it look like she was too emotionally traumatized to do anything but cry.

The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for four tickets on the next plane to New York.

They had no choice but to fly. Percy didn't relax until they landed in La Guardia.

The local press was waiting for them outside security, but they managed to evade them thanks to Annabeth, who lured them away in her invisible Yankees cap, shouting, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!" then rejoined them at baggage claim.

They split up at the taxi stand. Percy told Annabeth and Grover to get back to Half-Blood Hill and let Chiron know what had happened. He tried to get Naomi to do the same, but for once, she put her foot down. She wasn't about to let Percy face a bunch of angry Olympians alone, and besides—if one of those Olympians was her godly parent, part of her wanted them to see just what they'd elected to ignore.

"When did you get stubborn?" Percy asked.

"Five minutes ago," Naomi answered with a grin. "I like it."

Percy squinted at her for a moment, then seemed to realize there was no convincing her. "Fine," he mumbled.

It was hard to separate from Annabeth and Grover after everything they'd all been through together, but Naomi tried to be optimistic and convince herself they'd be reunited in a few hours.

She and Percy hopped in a taxi and headed into Manhattan.

Thirty minutes later, Naomi and Percy walked into the lobby of the Empire State Building.

They must've looked like a pair of homeless kids, with their tattered clothes and Percy's scraped-up face. Neither of them had slept in at least twenty-four hours.

They went up to the guard at the front desk and Percy said, "Six hundredth floor."

The guard was reading a huge book with a picture of a wizard on the front. Naomi wasn't that big of a reader, much less of fantasy books, but it must've been good since it took the guard a while to look up. "No such floor, kiddo."

"We need an audience with Zeus," Percy said.

The guy gave him a vacant smile. "Sorry?"

"You heard me."

The guard looked at him and Naomi for a moment. "No appointment, no audience, kids. Lord Zeus doesn't see anyone unannounced."

"Oh, I think he'll make an exception." Percy slipped off his backpack and unzipped the top.

The guard looked inside at the metal cylinder, not getting what it was for a few seconds. Then his face went pale. "That isn't..."

"Yes, it is," Percy promised. "You want me to take it out and—"

"No! No!" He scrambled out of his seat, fumbled around his desk for a key card, then handed it to Percy. "Insert this in the security slot. Make sure nobody else is in the elevator with you."

They did as he said. As soon as the elevator doors closed, Percy slipped the key into the slot. The card disappeared and a new button appeared on the console, a red one that said 600.

Percy pressed it, and they waited... and waited... and waited.

Muzak played. "Raindrops keep falling on my head..."

Finally, ding. The doors slid open. They stepped out and Naomi's breath caught in her throat.

They were standing on a narrow stone walkway in the middle of the air. Below them was Manhattan, from the height of an airplane. In front of them, white marble steps wound up the spine of a cloud, into the sky. Naomi's eyes followed the stairway to its end, where Naomi saw the impossible.

From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered in snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces—a city of mansions—all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes. Naomi could make out an open-air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn't in ruins. It was new, and clean, and colorful, the way Athens must've looked twenty-five hundred years ago.

Their trip through Olympus was a daze. They passed giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at them from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell them ambrosia-on-a-stick, and a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV. The nine Muses were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd of satyrs, naiads, and a bunch of attractive teenagers who might've been minor gods and goddesses.

One of the Muses met Naomi's gaze, a look of sympathy on her face, but when Naomi blinked, she'd returned her attention to her flute.

Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war. In fact, everybody seemed in a festive mood. Several of the maybe-minor-gods turned to watch Percy and Naomi pass, and whispered to themselves.

They climbed the main road, toward the big palace at the peak. It was a reverse copy of the palace in the Underworld. There, everything had been black and bronze. Here, everything glittered white and silver.

Naomi realized Hades must have built his palace to resemble this one. He wasn't welcomed in Olympus except on the winter solstice, so he'd built his own Olympus underground. Despite his callousness toward Naomi and her friends, she felt sorry for the god. To be banished from a place like this—it would make anybody bitter.

Steps led up to a central courtyard. Past that, the throne room.

Room wasn't really the right word. The place made Grand Central Station look like a broom closet. Massive columns rose to a domed ceiling, which was gilded with moving constellations.

Twelve thrones, built for beings the size of Hades, were arranged in an inverted U, just like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. An enormous fire crackled in the central hearth pit. The thrones were empty except for two at the end: the head throne on the right, and the one to its immediate left.

So much for maybe-meeting my godly parent, Naomi thought, only a little bitter.

No one needed to tell them who the two gods sitting there were, waiting for Percy and Naomi to approach. They walked toward them, and Naomi hoped she didn't look as sick with nerves as she felt.

The gods were in giant human form, as Hades had been, but Naomi could barely look at them without feeling a tingle, as if her body were starting to burn. Zeus, the Lord of the Gods, wore a dark blue, pinstriped suit. He sat on a simple throne of solid platinum. He had a well-trimmed beard, marbled gray and black like a storm cloud. His face was proud and handsome and grim, his eyes rainy gray. As Naomi and Percy got closer, the air crackled and smelled of ozone.

The god sitting next to him was definitely his brother, but he was dressed very differently. He reminded Naomi of a surfer on his day off, or a beach-town local with all the tips and tricks you needed to ride the best wave or catch the best deep-sea fish. He wore leather sandals, khaki Bermuda shorts, and a Tommy Bahama shirt with coconuts and parrots all over it. His skin was deeply tanned, his hands scarred like an old-time fisherman's. His hair was black, like Percy's. His face had that same brooding look and sea-green eyes, too, but his were surrounded by sun-crinkles that spoke of a history of smiling.

His throne was a deep-sea fisherman's chair. It was the simple swiveling kind, with a black leather seat and a built-in holster for a fishing pole. Instead of a pole, the holster held a bronze trident, flickering with green light around the tips.

The gods weren't moving or speaking, but there was tension in the air, as if they'd just finished an argument.

Spurred by absolute terror and self-preservation, Naomi knelt in front of Zeus. "Lord Zeus." She thanked whatever minor god was in charge of speaking for her voice not cracking in fear.

Percy approached the fisherman's throne and knelt at his feet. "Father."

Naomi's heart raced. One wrong move, one wrong word, and she doubted the gods would hesitate to turn her and her best friend into dust.

Zeus's voice was like thunder as he said, "At least the girl has the sense to address the master of this house, first."

"Peace, brother," Poseidon finally said, his voice just as deep as Zeus's, but warmer. "The boy defers to his father. This is only right."

"You still claim him then?" Zeus asked menacingly. "You claim this child whom you sired against our sacred oath?"

"I have admitted my wrongdoing," Poseidon said. "Now I would hear him speak."

"I have spared him once already," Zeus grumbled. "Daring to fly through my domain... pah! I should have blasted him out of the sky for his impudence."

"And risk destroying your own master bolt?" Poseidon asked calmly. "Let us hear him out, brother."

Zeus grumbled some more. "I shall listen," he decided. "Then I shall make up my mind whether or not to cast this boy and his friend down from Olympus."

"Perseus," Poseidon said. "Look at me."

Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi saw Percy do just that. The father and son looked at each other, and Naomi could only imagine what was going through either of their minds.

"Address Lord Zeus, boy," Poseidon told him. "Tell him your story."

So Percy told Zeus everything, just as it had happened. He took out the metal cylinder, which began sparking in the Sky God's presence, and laid it at his feet.

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackle of the hearth fire.

Zeus opened his palm. The lightning bolt flew into it. As he closed his fist, the metallic points flared with electricity, until he was holding what looked more like a classic thunderbolt—a fifteen foot javelin of arcing, hissing energy that made the hairs on Naomi's scalp rise.

"I sense the boy tells the truth," Zeus muttered. "But that Ares would do such a thing... it is most unlike him."

"He is proud and impulsive," Poseidon said. "It runs in the family."

"Lord?" Percy asked.

Both gods said, "Yes?"

"Ares didn't act alone. Someone else—something else—came up with the idea."

Percy described his dreams, and the feeling he'd had on the beach, that momentary breath of evil that had seemed to stop the world and made Ares back off from killing him.

"In the dreams," Percy said, "the voice told me to bring the bolt to the Underworld. Ares hinted that he'd been having dreams, too. I think he was being used, just as I was, to start a war."

"You are accusing Hades, after all?" Zeus asked.

"No," Percy said. "I mean, Lord Zeus, I've been in the presence of Hades. This feeling on the beach was different. It was the same thing I felt when I got close to that pit. That was the entrance to Tartarus, wasn't it? Something powerful and evil is stirring down there... something even older than the gods."

Poseidon and Zeus looked at each other. They had a quick, intense discussion in Ancient Greek. Naomi only caught one word: Father.

Poseidon made some kind of suggestion, but Zeus cut him off. Poseidon tried to argue. Zeus held up his hand angrily.

"We will speak of this no more," Zeus said. "I must go personally to purify this thunderbolt in the waters of Lemnos, to remove the human taint from its metal."

He rose and regarded Percy. His expression softened just a fraction of a degree. "You have done me a service, boy. Few heroes could have accomplished as much."

"I had help, sir," Percy said. "Naomi, Grover Underwood, Annabeth Chase—"

"To show you my thanks, I shall spare your life," Zeus decided. "I do not trust you, Perseus Jackson, nor your friend, here. I do not like what your arrival means for the future of Olympus. But for the sake of peace in the family, I shall let you live."

"Um... thank you, sir."

"Do not presume to fly again. Do not let me find you here when I return. Otherwise you shall taste this bolt. And it shall be your last sensation."

Thunder shook the palace. With a blinding flash of lightning, Zeus was gone.

Naomi and Percy stood in the throne room with Poseidon.

Naomi looked between them. She got to her feet slowly. "I'll... um, I'll give you a minute. I'll be outside."

She hurried out of the throne room, taking a seat on the marble steps outside.

The weather on Olympus was exactly how she liked it—warm but with a pleasant breeze, mostly clear skies with a few fluffy white clouds here and there. It certainly looked like the home of the gods.

Naomi wondered if her godly parent was on it now.

Or maybe they were somewhere in the Underworld, doing... whatever they were supposed to be doing. Besides claiming her, of course.

Naomi didn't get long to wallow in her thoughts. Something blocked the sun part-way, making her look up, confused.

The smiling face of a beautiful girl peered down at her.

"Naomi?" she asked, her voice gentle and pleasant, like a spring breeze.

Naomi blinked. "I... do I know you?"

The girl giggled. She looked around Naomi's age, maybe a year or so older. Her hair was yellow-orange, her skin paper-white but with an orange flush to it. Naomi was sure she'd never seen her before now, but the girl smiled at her like they were old friends.

"I know you," she corrected lightly. "I'm Lilium."

Naomi noted the white flower tucked behind her ear. "Like... the lily?"

Lilium laughed. "Precisely." She'd had her hands behind her back, but she brought them around, holding out a bouquet of identical lilies to the one tucked behind her ear. "A gift."

Naomi frowned. "What... what for?"

Lilium thought about it for a moment. "A... congratulations," she decided. "And an early birthday present. June twenty-fourth, right?"

Naomi looked at her with wide eyes. "How did you know that?"

The pretty girl winked. "I have my ways," she said. She held the bouquet of lilies out again, insistent. "Put them in water when you return to your camp. I put quite a lot of care into them."

Naomi took the flowers. "Thank you?" she said quietly, though it sounded a bit more like a question than anything.

Lilium giggled again. "You're very welcome, Naomi."

And then she flitted away, as quickly—and silently—as she'd approached.

Naomi's eyes followed her until she disappeared into one of the many gardens sprinkled around the city.

Chapter 23: xxi. home at last

Chapter Text

AFTER HIS TALK WITH POSEIDON, Percy went back to his mother's apartment to see her—alive, because apparently Hades was the kind of god to hold up his end of bargains—and Naomi took a cab to Half-Blood Hill.

At the top of the hill, Naomi stopped, taking a moment to take in the camp in its entirety. The cabins, the Big House, the climbing wall and crafts building and armory. She hugged the bouquet of lilies to her chest as she took it all in.

She was home.

And for once, she was happy to be there.

The Hermes cabin was empty when she reached it. Naomi was too tired to wonder where they were—maybe the strawberry fields or the sword-fighting arena. She managed to find a big enough cup for the lilies, and she filled it with water, placing it on one of the window-sills so it could get ample sunlight. As she untied the small thread holding the flower stems together, she realized something else was holding them together.

A ring.

Carefully, Naomi slid it off of the stems, placing the lilies in the cup before examining the ring. It was a simple bronze band, just wide enough for something to have been engraved on the inside of the band.

Kôneion.

It took a moment for the Greek to translate in Naomi's exhausted brain: Hemlock.

Naomi frowned, looking back at the vase, then back to the engraving.

Those were definitely lilies—not hemlock.

Despite the strange dissonance, Naomi slid the ring onto her finger, surprised by the perfect fit. She rubbed a thumb over the smooth, shiny metal, a smile tugging at her lips. She'd never had a piece of jewelry, really—just hair ties and one of those cheap plastic friendship bracelets she'd made in third grade and lost a week later during recess.

She took a long-anticipated shower, then changed into a spare set of clean clothes—a too-big Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and shorts. Despite her exhaustion, Naomi figured she should probably check in with Chiron before she passed out in the Hermes cabin.

Annabeth, Grover, Chiron, and Mr. D were sitting on the porch of the Big House when she arrived. Annabeth and Grover looked freshly showered, and there was a giant bowl of grapes on the table they were all picking at.

Annabeth smiled tiredly at her. "Where's Percy?"

"Went to see his mom," Naomi explained, returning the smile as she sat down next to her. "Hades released her."

"Thank the gods," Annabeth sighed, handing her a bundle of grapes.

Naomi took them with a grin.

"So, how was old Corpse Breath?" Mr. D asked, leaning back in his chair. "Have a nice little family reunion?"

Naomi shook her head, chewing her grapes.

"Chiron, I don't think Hades is her godly parent," Annabeth told the centaur. "The way he acted toward her—he barely even acknowledged her. Would he have acted like that if she was his child?"

Mr. D shrugged. "Never know with gods." He popped a handful of grapes into his mouth.

"That is good news, Naomi," Chiron told her, giving her a reassuring smile. "To be a child of Hades, especially right now... it would not be a kind fate."

"But if he's not my godly parent... who is?" Naomi asked. "What's taking them so long?"

"Hey, gods are busy," Mr. D said defensively. "Give 'em a minute."

Naomi fought a scowl. She'd given them plenty of minutes.

Annabeth patted her shoulder reassuringly. "We'll figure it out," she promised. "We've got the whole summer—if your godly parent doesn't claim you, we'll figure it out ourselves." She held out her pinky. "Promise."

Naomi's suppressed scowl morphed into a grin. She curled her pinky around Annabeth's, sealing the deal.

They were the first heroes to return to Half-Blood Hill alive since Luke, so of course, everyone at camp treated the four successful questers like they'd won some reality TV contest.

Once Percy returned from the city, the festivities began. According to camp tradition, they wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in their honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where they got to burn the burial shrouds their cabins had made for them in their absence.

Annabeth's shroud was beautiful, made of gray silk and embroidered owls. Percy told her it seemed a shame to bury her in it, which earned him a punch in the arm.

The Hermes cabin had made Naomi's, and she was surprised that it actually looked like they'd put effort into it. It was a simple white cloth, and it looked like most of the cabin members had taken permanent markers and drawn all sorts of scribbles all over it—question marks (probably to signal that she was unclaimed), several different types of smiley faces (Naomi figured those came from the seven-year-old twins, Benji and Elijah), crudely-drawn flowers and hearts and stars and what she was pretty sure was supposed to be a dog.

Naomi almost felt bad burning it.

The Ares cabin had apparently volunteered to make Percy's shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

Percy looked more than happy to burn it.

As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out toasted marshmallows, Naomi was surrounded by her friends, her Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."

The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks made it clear they'd never forgive Percy for disgracing their dad.

Even Mr. D's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen their spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brat didn't get himself killed and now he'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday..."

Naomi's cabinmates were a lot more friendly now that she had a successful quest under her belt. The Stolls promised to teach her the art of the perfect prank (Naomi tried to decline the lessons, but they insisted). She made friends with her one-eyed cabinmate, Ethan Nakumara, whose mother was a minor goddess without a cabin.

When Chiron asked her whether she'd like to sign up as a year-round camper, she didn't hesitate to say yes. The nuns would fill her bed easily enough.

On her birthday, three days after their return from the quest, Naomi was still unclaimed. She tried not to get down about it, but she'd managed to get her hopes up, only for them to get crushed yet again.

Percy did his best to get her mind off of it. He enlisted Annabeth's help in distracting her with board games from the Big House and trying to bake a birthday cake in the Big House kitchen. It was kind of a disaster, but Naomi went to sleep that night smiling.

As promised, as the summer went on, she and Annabeth researched every Underworld deity there was, along with any deities that dealt with hellhounds or animals in general. It was an extensive list, but some gods were easy to cross out.

Hades hadn't seemed torn about her dying, so he was (tentatively) out; Persephone was Hades's wife, and she didn't have demigod children, so she was out, too. Hecate kids were pretty easy to spot, what with their innate skills with magic and the magical disasters that usually followed them throughout childhood—neither of which applied to Naomi. Hermes was technically an Underworld deity, but Naomi had already ruled him out in her first week of camp. Charon also didn't have demigod kids, and there was the added fact that he hadn't recognized Naomi at all.

Annabeth's picks for possible godly parents were Thanatos, Melinoe, and Nyx. They were all connected to the Underworld, which could explain Naomi's control over hellhounds, plus her innate night-vision.

Naomi wasn't sure which one she'd rather it be: the god of death, the goddess of ghosts, or the goddess of night. All of them had few known demigod children (apparently there had been a son of Thanatos at camp when Annabeth first arrived, but he'd since left on an unsuccessful quest and hadn't come back, so he was more than likely dead—woefully ironic, given his parentage).

Naomi took to offering each of those gods her scraps of food on a rotating cycle, but it seemed her efforts were still in vain. No matter how many prayers she sent up (down?) to her possible-parents, there were no responses.

The summer went on, and her godly parent remained as silent and absent as ever.

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles.

According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of one-hundred-feet-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

As Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell them goodbye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and t-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown a few centimeters at least, so now he had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human.

"I'm off," he said. "I just came to say... well, you know."

Naomi gave him a tight hug. "Good luck," she told him, grinning up at him. "You're going to do great."

Annabeth gave him a hug as well, telling him to keep his fake feet on.

Percy asked him where he was going to search first.

"Kind of a secret," Grover said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan..."

"We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?"

"Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't really sound annoyed.

He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway—nothing like the little runty boy Naomi first met at Yancy Academy.

"Well," he said, "wish me luck."

He gave Naomi and Annabeth additional hugs. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes.

Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who was apparently a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," Percy called.

He turned at the edge of the woods.

"Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him.

"We'll see him again," Annabeth said.

Naomi nodded, trying to make herself believe it. The fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years... well, Naomi tried not to think about that. Grover would be the first. He had to be.

July passed. Naomi's godly parent stayed silent.

She spent her days theorizing with Annabeth, trying to get a hang of the lava climbing wall, training with her cabinmates in Cabin Eleven. She was getting a hang of sword-fighting, but the blade still felt foreign in her hand. Annabeth told her sometimes it took a few tries to get the right weapon, so Naomi tried not to get discouraged. She took to trying out different swords—shorter ones, longer ones, heavier ones, lighter ones. None were the right fit, but at least she was getting some practice in.

The last night of the summer session came all too quickly.

The campers had one last meal together. They burned part of their dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads.

Percy and Naomi were presented with their own leather necklaces, and when Naomi saw the bead for her first summer, she snickered, looking beside her to see Percy blushing. The bead's design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause.

Naomi couldn't pinpoint any time in her life where she'd been this happy. Home had never meant much to her. It used to be a stiff mattress in a room shared with a dozen other girls; a stuffy dorm room at a boarding school she didn't truly belong at; an unattainable place that she feared she'd never find in her lifetime.

But she had, at least a little. The Hermes cabin was just as crowded as St. Monica's, but the people that called it home called Naomi family, and she did the same. Most of them would be leaving for the year, but Naomi knew she'd see them the next summer—and in the meantime, maybe her godly parent would finally wake up and claim her, and she'd find a new family, too. Half-siblings to annoy and be annoyed by, cabinmates that shared a parent.

Someday, she hoped.

On the morning of the last day of camp, Naomi found Percy in his cabin, looking like he was trying to decide his fate.

She knocked on his open door. "Hey."

He looked up, smiling. "Hey." He set down the paper he'd been holding, taking a seat on his bunk. "You're staying year-round?"

Naomi nodded, sitting down next to him. "Chiron sent a letter to St. Monica's saying my biological mother had tracked me down and took me back in. The nuns didn't question it—they're sending my trunk in the mail. My old bed's probably already filled with another unfortunate orphan."

"You gonna miss Yancy?" Percy asked with a hint of a smirk.

"Absolutely not," Naomi laughed. "I'll take climbing the lava wall over those bratty rich kids any day." She bumped him with her shoulder. "What about you? You made your decision yet?"

"No," Percy said, a little sheepish.

Naomi knew the decision was bigger for him than it was for her. There was his mom to consider, and seeing as Smelly Gabe was now out of the picture (and on an unrelated note, Sally was a sculpture artist now, too), Percy could live at home with her and go to a non-boarding school.

Naomi stood up. "C'mon," she said. "Let's go do something. You've still got a few hours to decide."

They decided on sword practice.

The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. Most of the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their designer suitcases and makeup kits over the hill where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport.

Naomi and Percy got to the sword-fighters' arena and found that Luke had had the same idea. His gym bag was plopped at the edge of the stage. He was working solo, whacking away at battle dummies with a sword Naomi didn't recognize. It must've been a regular steel blade, because he was slashing the dummies' heads right off, stabbing through their straw-stuffed guts. His orange counselor's t-shirt was dripping with sweat. His expression was so intense, his life might've really been in danger.

Naomi and Percy watched, equally fascinated, as he disemboweled the whole row of dummies, hacking off limbs and basically reducing them to a pile of straw and armor.

They were only dummies, but Naomi couldn't help but be awed by Luke's skill. He was an incredible fighter. It made Naomi wonder how he possibly could've failed at his quest.

Finally, he saw them, and stopped mid-swing. "Percy. Naomi."

"Um, sorry," Percy said, embarrassed. "We just—"

"It's okay," Luke said, lowering his sword. "Just doing some last-minute practice."

"Those dummies won't be bothering anybody anymore," Percy joked lightly.

Luke shrugged. "We build new ones every summer."

Now that his sword was still, Naomi could see something odd about it. The blade was two different types of metal—one edge bronze, the other steel.

Luke noticed the interest. "Oh, this? New toy. This is Backbiter."

"Backbiter?" Percy asked.

Luke turned the blade in the light so it glinted wickedly. "One side is celestial bronze. The other was tempered steel. Works on mortals and immortals alike."

Naomi frowned. "I didn't know they could make weapons like that."

"They probably can't," Luke agreed. "It's one of a kind."

He gave them a smile, then slid the sword into its scabbard. "Listen, I was going to come looking for you guys. What do you say we go down to the woods one last time, look for something to fight?"

"You think it's a good idea?" Percy asked. "I mean—"

"Aw, come on." Luke rummaged through his gym bag and pulled out a six-pack of Cokes. "Drinks are on me."

Naomi saw Percy's willpower crumble. "Sure," he decided. "Why not?"

Chapter 24: xxii. betrayed by one who calls you friend

Chapter Text

THEY WALKED DOWN TO THE WOODS, kicking around for some kind of monster to fight, but it was too hot. All the monsters with any sense must've been taking naps in their nice cool caves.

They found a shady spot by the creek where Percy had broken Clarisse's spear during his first capture the flag game. They sat on a big rock, drank their Cokes, and watched the sunlight in the woods.

After a while Luke said, "You miss being on a quest?"

"With monsters attacking us every few feet?" Percy asked. "Are you kidding?"

Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. I miss it," Percy admitted.

Naomi nodded. "It was kind of fun," she agreed. "You?"

A shadow passed over Luke's face.

Naomi had always thought Luke was good-looking, but at the moment, he looked weary—angry. His blond hair was gray in the sunlight. The scar on his face looked deeper than usual. Naomi could imagine him as an old man.

"I've lived at Half-Blood Hill year-round since I was fourteen," he told them. "Ever since Thalia... well, you know. I trained, and trained, and trained. I never got to be a normal teenager, out there in the real world. Then they threw me one quest, and when I came back, it was like, 'Okay, ride's over. Have a nice life.'"

He crumpled his Coke can and threw it in the creek, which shocked Naomi. One of the first things you learned at Camp Half-Blood: don't litter. You'll hear from the nymphs and the naiads. They'll get even. You'll crawl into bed one night and find your sheets filled with centipedes and mud.

"The hell with laurel wreaths," Luke said. "I'm not going to end up like those dusty trophies in the Big House attic."

Naomi started to feel uneasy. "You make it sound like you're leaving."

Luke gave her a smile, almost like he was sorry. "Oh, I'm leaving, all right. We both are. I brought Percy down here to say goodbye."

He snapped his fingers. A small fire burned a hole in the ground at Percy's feet. Out crawled something glistening black, about the size of a hand. A scorpion.

Percy started to go for his pen, and Luke grabbed Naomi, wrapping an arm around her chest to pin her in place. "I wouldn't," Luke cautioned Percy. "Pit scorpions can jump up to fifteen feet. Its stinger can pierce right through your clothes. You'll be dead in sixty seconds."

"Luke, what are you doing?" Naomi asked, trying to wiggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He had over a foot of height on her, and at least fifty pounds of muscle.

"You," Percy said, looking at Luke with an expression of horror. "Betrayed by one who calls you friend."

The scorpion paid Luke no mind. It kept its beady black eyes on Percy, clamping its pincers as it crawled onto his shoe.

"I saw a lot out there in the world, Percy," Luke said. "Didn't you two feel it—the darkness gathering, the monsters growing stronger? Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics—being pawns of the gods. Gods who won't even claim their children unless it suits their own needs. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods."

Naomi's heart was pounding. She couldn't fully wrap her mind around what was happening—what Luke was doing.

"Luke... you're talking about our parents," Percy said.

He laughed. "That's supposed to make me love them? Their precious 'Western civilization' is a disease, Percy. It's killing the world. The only way to stop it is to burn it to the ground, start over with something more honest."

"You're as crazy as Ares."

Luke's nails dug into Naomi's shoulder, so hard she could feel him breaking skin. "Ares is a fool. He never realized the true master he was serving. If I had time, Percy, I could explain. But I'm afraid you won't live that long."

The scorpion crawled onto Percy's leg.

"Kronos," Percy said. "That's who you serve."

The air got colder.

"You should be careful with names," Luke warned.

"Kronos got you to steal the master bolt and the helmet. He spoke to you in your dreams."

Luke's eye twitched. "He spoke to you, too, Percy. You should've listened."

"He's brainwashing you, Luke."

"You're wrong. He showed me that my talents are being wasted. You know what my quest was two years ago? My father, Hermes, wanted me to steal a golden apple from the Garden of the Hesperides and return it to Olympus. After all the training I'd done, that was the best he could think up."

"That's not an easy quest," Percy said. "Hercules did it."

"Exactly," Luke said. "Where's the glory in repeating what others have done? All the gods know how to do is replay their past. My heart wasn't in it. The dragon in the garden gave me this"—he pointed angrily at his scar with his free hand—"and when I came back, all I got was pity. I wanted to pull Olympus down stone by stone right then, but I bided my time. I began to dream of Kronos. He convinced me to steal something worthwhile, something no hero had ever had the courage to take. When we went on that winter-solstice field trip, while the other campers were asleep, I snuck into the throne room and took Zeus's master bolt right from his chair. Hades's helm of darkness, too. You wouldn't believe how easy it was. The Olympians are so arrogant; they never dreamed someone would dare steal from them. Their security is horrible. I was halfway across New Jersey before I heard the storms rumbling, and I knew they'd discovered my theft."

The scorpion was sitting on Percy's knee now. "So why didn't you bring the items to Kronos?"

"I... I got overconfident," he said. "Zeus sent out his sons and daughters to find the stolen bolt—Artemis, Apollo, my father, Hermes. But it was Ares who caught me. I could have beaten him, but I wasn't careful enough. He disarmed me, took the items of power, threatened to return them to Olympus and burn me alive. Then Kronos's voice came to me and told me what to say. I put the idea in Ares's head about a great war between the gods. I said all he had to do was hide the items away for a while and watch the others fight. Ares got a wicked gleam in his eyes. I knew he was hooked. He let me go, and I returned to Olympus before anyone noticed my absence." Luke drew his new sword, too close to Naomi for comfort. "Afterward, the Lord of the Titans... h—he punished me with nightmares. I swore not to fail again. Back at Camp Half-Blood, in my dreams, I was told that a second hero would arrive, one who could be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way—from Ares down to Tartarus."

"You summoned the hellhound, that night in the forest," Naomi realized.

"We had to make Chiron think the camp wasn't safe for Percy. We needed him to start you on your quest. We had to confirm his fears that Hades was after you. And it worked."

"The flying shoes were cursed," Percy said. "They were supposed to drag me and the backpack into Tartarus."

"And they would have, if you'd been wearing them. But you gave them to the satyr, which wasn't part of the plan. Grover messes up everything he touches. He even confused the curse."

The scorpion was now sitting on Percy's thigh.

"You should have died in Tartarus, Percy," Luke said. "But don't worry. I'll leave you with my little friend to set things right."

"Thalia gave her life to save you," Percy said. "And this is how you repay her?"

"Don't speak of Thalia!" Luke shouted, right next to Naomi's ear. She cringed at the volume, at the rage in his voice, like nothing she'd ever heard before. "The gods let her die! That's one of the many things they will pay for."

"You're being used, Luke. You and Ares both. Don't listen to Kronos."

"I've been used?" Luke's voice turned shrill. "Look at yourself. What has your dad ever done for you? Kronos will rise. You've only delayed his plans. He will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves. All except the strongest—the ones who serve him."

"Call off the bug," Percy said. "If you're so strong, fight me yourself."

"Nice try, Percy. But I'm not Ares. You can't bait me. My lord is waiting, and he's got plenty of quests for me to undertake—including bringing Naomi Murphy to him."

Naomi dug her fingernails into his arm, but it was like he couldn't even feel it. "Luke, please—"

"Don't worry, Nay," he said, and there was a faint gentleness in his voice. "Kronos has plans for you. We'll be his champions—it'll be the greatest glory we could ever hope for."

"Luke—" Percy said.

"Goodbye, Percy. There is a new Golden Age coming. You won't be a part of it."

Naomi didn't know what to do. She didn't have a sword—she'd been using practice ones during training, still trying to find the right fit. Besides, why would she have thought to bring one out here? How could she have known something like this would happen? How could she have ever expected Luke to turn on them?

She was going to be taken. Luke was going to raise hell against the gods. Percy was going to die.

Her best friend was going to die.

And she didn't even have a freaking weapon.

She clawed futilely against Luke's hold. He was too strong to take on with just her hands.

Her nails slipped from Luke's skin, leaving harmless scratches as her hands formed into fists. She felt the cold metal of her new ring against her skin.

And then she was holding a sword.

Instincts moved her hand, slashing across Luke's forearm deep enough to startle him. His arm loosened just enough for Naomi to twist out of his hold, holding her sword out between them.

Luke looked the slightest bit confused, but he recovered instantly. "Don't be stupid, Naomi," he said, holding out a hand. "Come with me. It's for the best."

Naomi didn't have to think twice about it. She slashed at his offered hand, the blade cutting deep into his palm.

He hissed in pain and outrage. "Fine," he all but snarled. "Enjoy his funeral."

He slashed his sword in an arc and disappeared in a ripple of darkness.

Naomi turned just as the scorpion lunged.

Percy swatted it away with his hand and uncapped his sword. The thing jumped at him and he cut it in half in midair.

Naomi only got halfway through her sigh of relief when she noticed Percy's hand. His palm had a huge red welt, oozing and smoking with yellow guck.

"Percy!" She dropped her sword and caught him as he stumbled to his feet.

"Water," he croaked.

Naomi half-dragged him to the creek a few feet away. He plunged his hand in, but he wasn't healing. His skin was getting paler, taking on a greenish tint. He could barely stay upright.

Sixty seconds, Luke had said.

Percy was running out of time.

"Help!" Naomi yelled, hoping her voice carried enough for a camper or a nymph to hear and go for help. "Someone! Help!"

Percy collapsed, taking Naomi down with him. She tried to set him down in the grass as gently as she could, but it was difficult. His head lolled to the side, his eyes closed.

"Percy!" Naomi shook his shoulder desperately, trying to get him to open his eyes. "Come on, you can't pass out! Percy!"

But his eyelids didn't even flutter.

"Someone, help!" she screamed. "We need help!"

Percy's skin was getting even greener, turning almost gray. Naomi didn't know what to do.

Naomi's hands shot out without conscious thought, grasping at a bundle of white-petaled flowers in the grass next to her. She ripped a handful of buds of the stems and crushed them in her fist, pressing them into Percy's palm. She tore off another handful of buds, adding them to the small pile. She wrapped the stems around it like a bandage, pressing the flowers against the scorpion sting. To her surprise, the stems were strong enough for her to wrap them and even tie them into a knot.

She didn't know why she'd done that—how was a bunch of flowers supposed to save Percy from a scorpion sting?

She shook her head. She'd wonder about it later. For now, she had to worry about getting Percy to the infirmary.

"Someone!" she yelled again. "Please!"

To Naomi's utter relief, a few seconds later, a camper burst through the trees—Miranda, one of the Demeter girls. Chiron was a step behind, and they both looked confused and concerned.

"What—?" Miranda started to ask.

"Pit scorpion," Naomi gasped. "He needs a healer!"

"Naomi, Miranda, get Percy onto my back," Chiron ordered. "We need to move, quickly."

Naomi and Miranda hoisted the ailing half-blood onto the centaur's back, and Chiron took off instantly for the Big House.

"What happened?" Miranda asked Naomi.

Naomi took a deep breath. The adrenaline slowly started to ebb, replaced by the pure awfulness of the situation.

Luke... he'd betrayed them. All of them.

Naomi swallowed. "Later," she said, her voice shaky. "I need to make sure he's—"

"Yeah," Miranda said, nodding. "C'mon—I'll clean up your arm for you."

Naomi frowned, looking at her shoulder. Five small, crescent-shaped marks decorated her bicep where Luke's nails had dug into her skin. Blood dripped from each of them, creating small lines of deep red all the way down to her elbow.

Naomi swallowed. "Thanks," she said.

Miranda offered her a tight, worried smile. "No problem," she said. "And don't worry about Percy—Chiron'll will do everything he can. He's the best healer in camp—probably the whole country, if not the world. Your friend'll be—"

She stopped, her gaze shifting to the grass at Naomi's feet. She knelt down, plucking one of the white flowers. "That's weird," she murmured. "Yarrow doesn't grow around here."

"Yarrow?" Naomi asked.

Miranda held out the white bud to her. "Yeah," she said. "It tends to grow in more sandy soil. I've never seen it grow here in camp—not wildly, anyway. And we do all of our gardening in the fields and the greenhouse, not in the forest."

Naomi frowned. "How did it get here, then?"

Miranda shrugged. "Who knows? One of my siblings might've been testing out seeds or something." She patted Naomi's not-bleeding shoulder. "C'mon. Best not to linger in the forest."

Naomi fought a shudder. "Yeah. Let's go."

It took Percy four hours to wake up.

Once Miranda had cleaned Naomi's arm and given her a piece of ambrosia to eat, she sat down next to Annabeth at Percy's bedside, watching his color slowly return to normal.

According to Chiron, Naomi's flower-packing had kept the scorpion's venom from reaching Percy's heart. Naomi still couldn't understand how she'd known to do it, but for now, she was too grateful to question it.

Naomi was silent as they waited for Percy to wake up. Her head was still reeling, her stomach still churning. She'd been seconds away from Percy being dead and Luke abducting her and taking her gods-know-where.

The ring from the bouquet had returned to Naomi's finger within minutes of reaching the infirmary, nestling back in its spot on her right ring finger. She couldn't understand why Lilium would give her a weapon, or why she'd hide it in a bouquet of lilies, but she was grateful nonetheless. If not for Hemlock, Luke would have taken her away.

Argus stood guard in the corner of the sickroom, Chiron sitting at the foot of Percy's cot in his wheelchair. Annabeth was holding a nectar glass up to Percy's mouth and dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

Naomi kept twisting her ring around her finger, the motion quickly and easily becoming a habit.

She looked up as Percy said, "Here we are again."

"You idiot," Annabeth said. "You were green and turning gray when we got to you. If it weren't for Naomi's flowers and Chiron's healing..."

"Now, now," Chiron said. "Percy's constitution deserves some credit." He gave Percy a weary smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved."

"Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom," Chiron said. "Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened."

Between sips of nectar, Percy told them everything.

The room was quiet for a long time.

"I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him... He was never the same after his quest."

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once."

"Luke is out there right now," Naomi said, speaking for the first time since she'd sat down. Her voice was steadier than she expected. "We can't let him get far. He has to be stopped."

Chiron shook his head. "No, Naomi. The gods—"

"Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!"

"Percy, Naomi, I know this is hard," Chiron said. "But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready—either of you."

Naomi didn't like it, but she knew Chiron was right. She'd barely gotten any proper training—her godly parent hadn't even claimed her. She wasn't ready to take on Luke, and if she tried, she feared he'd just capture her the way he'd tried to already and she'd be subjected to whatever torture Kronos wanted her for.

We'll be his champions, Luke had said. The greatest glory we could ever hope for.

But that wasn't glory. That was infamy. That wasn't what she wanted for her future.

"Chiron..." Percy said. "Your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? And Naomi? And Annabeth?"

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—"

"You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

Chiron's eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I am right about the path ahead of you..."

Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!"

He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," Percy said.

"We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come."

"Assuming I live that long."

Chiron put a hand on his ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice... But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for eighth grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision."

He sighed softly. "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you."

He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here."

"Who's here?" Percy asked.

Nobody answered.

Chiron rolled himself out of the room. Naomi heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time.

Annabeth studied the ice in Percy's drink.

Naomi frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Annabeth set the glass on the table, not looking at either of them. "I... just took your advice, Percy. You... um... need anything?"

"Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside."

"Percy," Naomi said, "that's not a good idea."

Percy didn't care. He slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and Naomi caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

"Told you so," Naomi muttered.

"I'm fine," Percy insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, Annabeth and Naomi keeping him on his feet. Argus followed them outside, but he kept his distance.

By the time they reached the porch, Percy's face was beaded with sweat, but he managed to make it all the way to the railing.

It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun.

"What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked Percy.

"I don't know."

Percy told them how he got the feeling Chiron wanted him to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but he wasn't sure that's what he wanted. He admitted he'd feel bad leaving them alone, though, with only each other and Clarisse for company...

Annabeth pursed her lips, looking sheepishly at Naomi, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year."

Percy stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?"

She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little kids, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver.

"I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try."

"That took guts," Percy said.

Annabeth looked at Naomi. "I'm sorry, Nay."

Naomi shook her head. "Don't be sorry," she said, giving her friend a smile. "I'm happy for you. Really." And she meant it—as sad as she was to learn she wouldn't have Annabeth to spend the school year with, she was glad Annabeth was reconnecting with her family.

If Naomi had had the option, she's pretty sure she would have done the same.

Annabeth reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. Then she pursed her lips, looking at Percy. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least... not without sending us an Iris-message?"

Percy smiled. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"When I get back next summer," Annabeth said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?"

"Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena," Percy said.

They all shook hands. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Annabeth pulled Naomi into a hug. "I'll keep researching," she promised. "We'll figure out who your godly parent is. And if you get claimed while I'm gone, send me a letter—and if I'm totally wrong, let me down easy."

Naomi managed a smile. "I will," she said. "Be safe out there."

"You be safe in here," Annabeth said. "And give Clarisse hell if you get the chance."

"No promises."

Naomi and Percy watched Annabeth walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be led over the crest and into the mortal world.

"You're going home, too, aren't you?" Naomi asked quietly, turning her head to look at her best friend.

Percy winced. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Naomi told him. "You just got your mom back—I'd be mad at you if you stayed here."

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself?" he asked, leaning forward against the railing.

Naomi looked over the camp, watching campers hug and say their goodbyes to their year-round cabinmates. At the Hermes cabin, Ethan and the Stolls shot her and Percy waves, and a smile tugged at Naomi's lips.

"Yeah," she said. "I'll be okay. I'll get to train while you're stuck in algebra."

Percy groaned. "Don't remind me."

Naomi hugged him. "Tell your mom I say hi. And try not to get yourself killed before next summer."

Percy laughed. "I'll do my best."

Chapter 25: xxiii. claimed at last

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

THE REVELATION CAME IN SEPTEMBER. The leaves outside of the camp borders turned orange and yellow and red. Argus went into town and returned with a trailer full of pumpkins and squash to decorate the cabins and the Big House. Autumn was here.

"I think Mr. Scarecrow needs a hat," Silena Beauregard declared. "Something with a wide brim."

"First off, we are not naming him 'Mr. Scarecrow,'" Miranda from the Demeter cabin said. "Second, every scarecrow has a hat. Don't we want him to be unique?"

"Hats are in fashion," Silena argued. "Besides, he's supposed to look like a farmer, and farmers wear hats!"

"I have a straw hat in my trunk," Asher—also from the Demeter cabin—said.

From his spot in the grass next to Naomi, Ethan snorted. "Why do you have a straw hat just lying around?"

"I'm a child of Demeter, it's my brand, Nakamura," Asher said smartly.

"Speak for yourself," Miranda protested. "That hat's the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Funny, I was gonna say the same about your face," Asher shot back.

"Listen here, you little—"

Clarisse stormed over to the assembled demigods with a dinged up breastplate in her hands. She threw them onto the ground in front of the half-finished scarecrow. "There, I got the armor. Can I go now?"

"This is a group activity, Clarisse," Silena chided. "We're bonding."

"I don't want to bond with you losers," Clarisse protested. "And even if I wanted to, I'd just kick all of your asses in the arena. That's bonding."

Silena rolled her eyes. "Sit, or I'll have Chiron revoke your dessert privileges."

Clarisse grumbled something under her breath, but sat down on one of the bales of hay the Demeter cabin had collected.

"You guys seriously do this every year?" Naomi whispered to Ethan as Silena and Miranda continued to argue over the scarecrow's fashion choices.

"Yeah, but this is the first year Silena's been this enthusiastic about it," Ethan explained. "Figure it has something to do with... y'know..."

Luke.

Luke's betrayal had shaken the very bedrock of Camp Half-Blood. The Hermes cabin—which had emptied out enough with the departure of summer-only campers for everyone to get a bunk—had been hit the hardest by what Luke had done. The Stolls hadn't pulled a single prank since Chiron made the announcement, and from what Naomi had heard, that was very unlike them.

It had been over a month since the end of the summer session—a silent month in terms of claiming. Naomi was starting to lose hope that she'd ever see a symbol appear over her head. Now, she was trying to come to terms with the possibility of never knowing who her godly parent is, like a few other unfortunate half-bloods at camp.

"It's nice," Naomi said quietly. "That we're doing this. Bonding."

Ethan snorted. "Don't let Clarisse hear you."

The sound of galloping hooves made most of the campers look up. Chiron made their way toward the group, nodding appreciatively at the scarecrow. "An excellent job, as always, campers."

"Hat or no hat, Chiron?" Miranda asked.

"You can't go wrong with an accessory, I don't think," Chiron answered.

"Ha!" Silena grinned triumphantly. "Asher, the hat, please?"

Asher saluted the daughter of Aphrodite. "Back in a sec!" He took off toward Cabin Four.

"How much longer are we gonna be out here, Chiron?" Clarisse complained.

"Patience, Miss La Rue," Chiron said. "We're celebrating the beginning of a new season. It's always a milestone worth celebrating, to survive to the next season."

Asher returned with the straw hat and handed it to Silena.

Once the hat was secured onto the scarecrow's head and the breastplate strapped on, Beckendorf—the head of the Hephaestus cabin—and Lee from Apollo hoisted it up, jabbing the pole into the ground so the scarecrow stood upright.

"It's not going to come alive like in Wizard of Oz, is it?" Naomi whispered to Ethan.

He laughed. "Not likely—but you never know."

Naomi fought a shudder.

"Another summer season past," Chiron announced as the sun disappeared fully behind the treetops, painting the world in brilliant hues of gold and orange. "I'm proud of you all for surviving to see another autumn. Now, if you'll all follow me to the Big House, Argus and the harpies have prepared hot—"

He stopped, turning his head toward Naomi. A strange purplish-pink light bathed his features.

Naomi frowned at the shock on his face, aimed at her. She looked at Ethan next to her, but his face was full of confusion.

Naomi looked around—everyone looked confused, bathed in that strange light.

"What's going on?" she asked nervously, her skin immediately growing hot at all of the eyes trained on her. "Why is everyone looking at me?"

Ethan wordlessly pointed to the space above Naomi's head.

She looked up, her heart stuttering at the sight of an image floating above her head. It wasn't like the trident that had appeared over Percy's head months ago—it was some sort of fruit, cut in half.

Underneath it, six tiny dots hovered in midair.

"No way," a camper muttered.

"I didn't even think she had kids," another gasped.

"She doesn't. That's the problem."

"Chiron?" Naomi asked, her voice small. "Who... whose symbol is that?"

In the back of her mind, she already knew. After months of research with Annabeth, she knew exactly whose symbol it was. But she didn't want to believe it. It shouldn't have been possible.

With a grim expression, Chiron slowly bent his front legs, kneeling. The other campers followed suit, which just made the warmth that was already dominating Naomi's cheeks blaze even hotter.

"Hail, Naomi Murphy," Chiron said, as if he were speaking at a funeral. "Daughter of Persephone—goddess of springtime and flowers; queen of the Underworld."

Notes:

END OF ACT ONE

Chapter 26: ACT TWO: The Sea of Monsters

Chapter Text

"τὰ πάντα ῥεῖ καὶ οὐδὲν μένει

(everything flows, nothing stands still.)"

― heraclitus

Chapter 27: i. purple codes and silver linings

Chapter Text

YOU WOULD THINK, after months of begging her godly parent to claim her, Naomi Murphy would be thrilled to finally know who her mother was.

And you would be very wrong, because she wasn't thrilled in the slightest—she was pissed.

No one knew what to think of Persephone's claiming. Chiron had been thoroughly shocked, which was a strange look on the centuries-old centaur. Most of the year-round campers were waiting for her new stepdad to burst out of the grass a-la the myth of Hades and Persephone and kill her for simply existing. Chiron tried to assure Naomi that likely wouldn't happen, but even he couldn't hide his worry.

Naomi's popularity due to her successful quest shifted into a morbid fascination due to her parentage. She couldn't go a single day without someone staring at her or people whispering about her just out of earshot. She'd lost count of how many times Clarisse and her siblings teased her about being Persephone's bastard (as if half the kids at camp weren't their godly parents' bastards).

But, luckily for Naomi's sanity, there were silver-linings.

The day after Naomi was claimed, Miranda—the year-round counselor of the Demeter cabin—had gotten a dream from her mother, Demeter, saying that Naomi could move into the cabin with her half-aunts and half-uncles. The cabin was a lot roomier than the Hermes cabin (even with a tree growing right through the middle of it), and while Naomi was a bit sorry to leave her new friends in Cabin Eleven—namely Ethan Nakamura—she liked the fact that she actually got her own space in the Demeter cabin.

But there was only so much damage control one silver-lining could do. Naomi was still pissed—she'd thrown out the bouquet of lilies she'd gotten from Olympus as soon as she'd recovered from her shock, and she'd even tried to throw away the ring that had come with it (stupidly, now that she was looking back—a ring-sword was too nice a gift to throw away). Luckily, the ring was like Percy's pen, in that it was enchanted to return to her, so she was stuck with it.

Naomi hated everything to do with her parentage. She hated going to the greenhouse with her new cabinmates. She hated being able to grow flowers out of the dirt at will (it was a neat trick, really, but her new mommy issues ran deep). She hated constantly shivering and being more prone to colds in the fall and winter despite the camp's perfect year-round weather, all because her godly parent had taken her trip down to the Underworld for half the year.

Part of her hoped Hades was as pissed as she was. If she couldn't give her mother an earful, maybe her new stepfather would.

(Or maybe he'd just try to kill her daughter—who could say?)

Everything that reminded her of her mother—flowers, natures, nymphs, pomegranates, pollen—made Naomi upset. She used to love bees and ladybugs and butterflies, but when Miranda pointed out they probably liked her because they were all pollinators, she started to ignore them whenever they came around. Part of her felt bad, but a much larger part of her wanted to act like a bratty teenager.

Which led her to her current predicament, three months after her mother claimed her.

"It's gonna be okay," Miranda said, though she didn't sound sure at all. "It's gonna be fine. We can fix this."

"Can we?" Naomi asked.

"Of course!" Miranda said, forcing a laugh. "Just put the scissors down, okay?"

Naomi set the scissors down on the bathroom counter, looking at Asher—one of the more honest of her cabinmates. "How bad is it?"

Asher looked from Naomi to Miranda, the latter glaring pointedly at him. He returned his attention to Naomi. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Naomi, it's... not good."

Miranda elbowed him in the ribs. "Not helping!"

"I'm just telling the truth!"

Miranda grumbled under her breath. "Go get Silena—tell her it's a code purple."

Asher nodded, setting off to find the Aphrodite cabin counselor.

"Code purple?" Naomi asked nervously.

"She'll know what it means," Miranda promised. "So... wanna tell me what this is about?"

"I'm mad at my mom," Naomi said.

"Uh-huh," Miranda said, nodding. "So... the bangs are supposed to... get back at her?"

"I don't know!" Naomi exclaimed, plopping helplessly down on the stool she'd brought into the bathroom—this was premeditated, after all. "I just wanted to do something!"

"That's understandable," Miranda said kindly. "But, um... next time, why don't we do something a little... less permanent, hmm? I'm sure there's some temporary hair dye around here somewhere."

Naomi perked up. "Hair dye?"

Miranda closed her eyes, like she regretted bringing it up. "Forget I mentioned it," she sighed. "Please."

A moment later, there was a knock on the half-open bathroom door. "Hello? Asher said there was a code purple?"

Miranda sighed with relief. "Come in, Silena!"

The girl in question walked in. Silena Beauregard was easily the prettiest girl at Camp Half-Blood, not just on the outside, but the inside, too. Naomi had never seen her be anything but almost annoyingly kind to anyone. The Aphrodite cabin and the Demeter cabin tended to do a lot of their activities together during the school year, since there were only two Aphrodite year-rounders and three Demeter year-rounders, so she'd had plenty of opportunity to learn that it wasn't a façade or a mask—Silena was just sweet.

Silena looked at Naomi, offering her a gentle smile. "Hey, Naomi."

"Hi," Naomi said lamely.

"Can you salvage it?" Miranda asked, gesturing at Naomi's hair.

"Is it really that bad?" Naomi asked.

Stepping into the bathroom behind her sister, Drew Tanaka burst out laughing. "Oh my gods, what did you do?"

Silena shushed her. "Don't act like you didn't give yourself that gods-awful lob last summer," she chided, which made Drew scowl and shut up immediately. "And of course I can salvage it," she told Miranda.

"Well, then, you three have fun," Miranda said, standing up and patting Naomi on the shoulder. "You're in good hands, Nay, don't worry. Meet me in the strawberry fields when you're done."

She slipped out of the bathroom, leaving Naomi in the more-than-capable hands of Silena.

"Don't worry," Silena told Naomi. "You'll look like a movie star when I'm done with you."

"I'd settle for a decent-looking teenager," Naomi said.

Silena laughed. "Oh, no, I don't do minimal effort."

Drew hopped onto the counter, holding a basket of what must have been haircutting supplies on her lap. "Did you have, like, a horrible break-up or something? Did you and Jackson try long-distance and you found out he's cheating?"

Naomi frowned. "Percy and I are just friends," she said, willing her cheeks not to get red.

"Ethan, then?" Drew asked.

"Friends," Naomi said.

"Connor Stoll?"

"Again, just friends."

Drew made a noise of displeasure. "Boring. Are you saying you did this with a healthy mental state? Because if so—yikes."

"I'll cancel your manicure appointment," Silena threatened her sister. "Hand me the comb and the scissors."

Drew did as asked. "I'm just saying, this is not the work of a mentally stable individual."

"And that lob was?" Silena countered, combing the front half of Naomi's hair.

"I was going through a lot!"

"This is a camp for half-gods, Drew," Silena said, going to work fixing Naomi's attempt at giving herself bangs. "We're all going through a lot."

Drew rolled her eyes. "Whatever." As Silena worked, she pulled something out of her pocket. "Tell me what flower this is supposed to smell like. I lost the label and it's driving me nuts."

Naomi frowned, but sniffed as Drew held the mini roller-ball perfume up to her nose. "Patchouli," she muttered, not at all pleased with how easily she identified it.

Drew scowled. "When did I buy this?" she muttered to herself.

"You didn't," Silena said. "You stole it out of my purse."

"Ah," Drew said, slipping it back into her pocket. "Right."

"Chiron's shuffling up the teams for capture the flag Friday," Silena told Naomi, effortlessly multitasking as she checked the evenness of her cutting. "But I think he's gonna keep our cabins on the same team. We might just have to deal with the Ares kids this time."

Naomi grimaced. "Great." Capture the flag during the school year was played with smaller boundaries and far less people, but it was still fun and a good way to train outside of the arena. "At least this time Clarisse can't attack me without it being friendly fire."

"Clarisse isn't so bad," Silena said kindly. "I think she's just taking out her hatred of Percy on you, since he's not here. I'll talk to her."

"You could always fill their cabin with a bunch of flowers or something," Drew suggested. "They'd hate that."

So would I, Naomi thought bitterly.

Silena spun Naomi around in the stool, grinning in the reflection of the mirror. "Voila! What do you think?"

Naomi gawked at her reflection. The too-long, jagged bangs she'd given herself had been transformed into an even set of bangs that came to her eyebrows. It was a simple fix, really, but Silena had somehow made it fit her face and her features perfectly.

"I can give the rest of your hair a trim, too, if you'd like," Silena offered. "You have a few split-ends—no big deal, but if you let me—"

"Have at it," Naomi said. "Please."

Silena nodded, and she started trimming the ends of Naomi's hair.

"Heather sent me a copy of the new Taylor Swift CD," Drew said, swinging her legs absentmindedly.

"Oh, 1989?" Silena asked. "Is it good?"

"Haven't listened to it yet," Drew said. "Wanna listen to it before dinner?"

"Definitely," Silena said. "Do you like Taylor Swift, Naomi?"

"I don't know who that is."

Silena's scissors froze. "I'm sorry... what?"

"Is she a singer?" Naomi asked innocently.

"Is she a—oh my gods, Naomi, did you grow up under a rock?" Drew asked in horror.

"Catholic orphanage," Naomi corrected.

"Same thing, apparently!" Drew exclaimed. "You've never heard of Taylor Swift? What kind of music did you even listen to?"

"Mostly hymns," Naomi answered. "Couple of Veggie-Tales songs."

"You poor thing," Silena said, resuming her cutting. "Don't worry—we'll help you out. Drew has all of Taylor Swift's albums on CD, and I'm pretty sure the Apollo cabin has a trunk full of CDs—everything from ABBA to One Direction."

"One Direction?" Naomi asked. "Who's that?"

"Oh my gods," Drew moaned dramatically. "You don't even know One Direction?"

"Catholic orphanage, remember?"

"It's gonna be okay," Silena reassured her. "We'll catch you up on all things music and pop culture. Promise."

"At least tell me you've watched Twilight," Drew asked desperately.

"Um... never heard of it," Naomi said.

"Oh, come on!"

"It's gonna be a long year," Silena murmured. "There—you're all trimmed up."

"Thank you," Naomi said.

"Oh, you're so welcome." Silena combed her fingers through Naomi's hair. "You know, I have a hair mask you should use. It'll cut down on the frizz, make it shinier, help with—"

"Okay, enough hair talk," Drew said, snatching the comb and scissors out of Silena's hands and shoving them back into the basket. "We have four Taylor Swift albums to listen to before we even touch 1989. Come on!" She handed the basket to Silena and grabbed Naomi's hand.

"I'm supposed to meet Miranda in the strawberry fields," Naomi protested.

"This is way more important than strawberries!" Drew exclaimed. "She'll understand!"

She dragged Naomi out of the Demeter cabin, practically sprinting to the Aphrodite cabin two cabins down.

Halfway there, Ethan Nakamura spotted them, waving with a grin. "Hey!"

"Have you ever listened to Taylor Swift?" Drew shouted in lieu of a hello.

"...Never heard of her," Ethan admitted.

"Are you—? Oh my gods." Drew muttered something vulgar under her breath in Ancient Greek. "Get your uncultured ass over here! I can't believe I go to the same camp as you people."

"Huh?" Ethan asked. "What's happening?"

Drew muttered some more, marching over to him with Naomi in tow and grabbing his wrist. "Unbelievable," she grumbled, dragging them both back to the Aphrodite cabin. "Never heard of Taylor Swift—how have you never heard of Taylor Swift?" She continued mumbling angrily to herself as she dragged them behind her.

"Are we being kidnapped?" Ethan asked Naomi.

"I think so," Naomi answered.

Ethan nodded. "Good to know."

Drew kicked the slightly ajar door open. She pushed Naomi and Ethan onto a futon, then marched over to a stereo, grabbing a CD with a curly-haired blonde girl on the cover. "You two are going to listen," Drew told them firmly, "and you're going to appreciate the lyricism and melodic voice that is Taylor Swift."

Naomi blinked. "Um... what's lyricism?"

Drew shook her head. "Doesn't matter. Just listen and appreciate."

She put the CD into the player, pressed play, and plopped down on the futon next to Naomi.

Like Naomi said—silver linings.

The year just got better from there. As promised, Drew and Silena showed Naomi (and Ethan, when he decided to join) all the pop culture things living in a Catholic orphanage for most of her life had deprived her of. She listened to all of Taylor Swift's albums (her favorite was definitely Speak Now, which Silena highly approved of); she watched all of the Twilight movies (she liked the first one best—there was something about that blue filter); she and Drew binged multiple TV shows (Teen Wolf was Naomi's favorites so far).

All in all, it was a better year than Naomi expected when she said goodbye to Grover, Percy, and Annabeth at the end of the summer.

She, Drew, and Ethan were sitting in the Aphrodite cabin when it all went wrong. Drew was halfway through trying to teach the two of them how to French braid hair, acting as both teacher and practice dummy, when Asher burst through the door, looking winded and terrified.

Naomi shot up off of the futon. "Asher? What's wrong? What happened?"

"The camp borders!" he gasped out, trying to catch his breath.

"What about the camp borders?" Drew asked.

"They're failing!" Asher said. "Thalia's tree is dying!"

Chapter 28: ii. chiron gets sacked (and percy gets a brother)

Chapter Text

"OW!"

"Hold still."

"It hurts."

"That's what you get for charging a fire-breathing bull."

Naomi glared at Ethan as he finished wrapping her forearm in gauze, keeping the Aloe Vera dressing in place. "Your bedside manner could use a lot of work."

"And your patient temperament is terrible," Ethan countered.

"I got burned, what do you expect?"

Ethan fastened the bandages securely. "You're mouthy when you're wounded."

"You're mouthy when you're wounded," Naomi mocked.

"I don't sound like that!" Ethan protested.

"I don't sound like that."

Ethan huffed. "I hate you."

This time, Naomi raised her voice to crudely match Drew's: "Cry about it."

Maybe it was the dismal mood that had plagued the camp for weeks since Thalia's tree started dying, or maybe it was the fact that she'd just gotten burned and almost killed by a bronze fire-breathing bull, but Ethan and Naomi both burst out laughing.

When they sobered up, Ethan asked, "Are you sure you don't want some ambrosia?"

"I'll be fine," Naomi assured him. Herbal remedies had an increased effect on Demeter kids and, as it turned out, Persephone kids as well (the plural for the latter was unnecessary, but it made Naomi feel a little less like a one-woman freak show). With the camp's supply of nectar and ambrosia beginning to run low and more and more campers getting injured trying to defend the camp borders, Naomi was fine sticking to natural remedies.

It had been about a month since Thalia's tree was poisoned, and things had only gotten progressively worse in the weeks since. The Apollo and Demeter cabins were trying to figure out a cure for the tree, but so far they'd come up with nothing. All they could do was slow the poison down, keep it from reaching its roots so soon, but it was like Sisyphus and his boulder. There seemed to be no good end in sight.

Naomi sighed, leaning against the railing to breathe for a second—she'd been up and running around with her cabinmates since early that morning, and her lack of sleep was starting to catch up with her. She debated sneaking away for a quick power nap when she spotted two familiar faces in the distance.

"Percy! Annabeth! You're back!"

She ran down the porch steps and pulled them both into hugs, though she had to hold her burned arm out awkwardly to keep from hitting it.

Percy noticed the bandages. "What happened to your arm?"

"Those bulls on the hill," she grumbled. "Are they still up there?"

"They're down," Annabeth told her. "What's going on, Naomi? You didn't keep in touch, and I couldn't get an IM through, now Clarisse is saying something about a new activities director—what's happening?"

Naomi grimaced. "It's been a long year," she said. "A bad one."

"Is everyone at the border okay?" Ethan asked, coming down the porch steps to stand beside her.

"Couple of injuries, but everyone's alive," Percy said, frowning at Ethan. "Who are you?"

"Ethan Nakamura," Naomi said. "From Cabin Eleven. Remember?"

"Oh... yeah," Percy said. "Yeah, sorry."

Ethan raised a hand in an awkward half-wave. "Hello again."

"Speaking of hello," Naomi said, looking at the very tall, distinctly one-eyed boy trailing behind her friends. "Who's this?"

"Naomi, this is Tyson," Percy introduced. "Tyson, this is my friend Naomi."

The tall kid looked at her with one big brown eye. "Hi."

"He's a Cyclops," Annabeth said.

Naomi blinked. "I got that."

"He's also my friend," Percy added, glaring pointedly at Annabeth.

Naomi wasn't sure what that was about. "Oo-kay," she said. "Hi, Tyson."

"Hi," he said again.

"I'm gonna go check and see if the Stolls need help in the armory," Ethan told her. "Or just... make sure they haven't set it on fire or something. See you at dinner?"

Naomi nodded, bumping his fist as he passed. "See you." She turned back to Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson as he walked off and jabbed a thumb toward the front door behind her. "Come on—Chiron's upstairs, but... well, he's not going to be here much longer."

Chiron was in his apartment, listening to his favorite 60s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags.

As soon as Tyson saw him, he froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

Annabeth ran up and hugged him. "Chiron, what's happening? You're not... leaving?" Her voice was shaky. Naomi understood why—Chiron was like a second father to her.

Chiron ruffled Annabeth's hair and gave her a kindly smile. "Hello, child. And Percy, goodness. You've grown over the year!"

Percy swallowed. "Clarisse said you were... you were..."

"Fired." Chiron's eyes glinted with dark humor. "Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr. D had to punish someone."

"The wrong someone," Naomi grumbled.

"But this is crazy!" Annabeth cried. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"

"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some in Olympus do not trust me now, given the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" Percy asked.

Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin-English dictionary into his saddlebag while Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boom box.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?"

Chiron sniffed. "My dear young Cyclops! I am a centaur."

"Chiron," Percy said. "What about the tree? What happened?"

He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Percy. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."

"Then we know who's responsible. Kro—"

"Do not invoke the titan lord's name, Percy," Chiron warned. "Especially not here, not now."

"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This has to be his idea. He'd get Luke to do it, that traitor."

"Perhaps," Chiron said. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless..."

"Unless what?" Annabeth asked.

"No," Chiron said. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."

"What is it?" Percy asked. "We'll go find it!"

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the STOP button on his boombox. Then he turned and rested his hand on Percy's shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes. "Percy, you must promise me that you will not act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, stay here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave."

"Why?" Percy asked. "I want to do something! I can't just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be—"

"Overrun by monsters," Chiron said. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life."

Annabeth was trying hard not to cry. Chiron brushed a tear from her cheek. "Stay with Percy and Naomi, child. Keep them safe. The prophecy—remember it!"

"I—I will."

Naomi raised a hand. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has us in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell us about?"

"We've been over this, Naomi," Chiron said gently. "It isn't safe to speak of it."

"Yeah," Naomi grumbled, remembering the dozen or so other failed attempts at getting him to talk about it over the year. "I know."

"Chiron..." Annabeth said. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—"

"Swear you will do your best to keep Percy and Naomi from danger," he insisted. "Swear upon the River Styx."

"I—I swear upon the River Styx," Annabeth said.

Thunder rumbled outside.

"Very well," Chiron said. He seemed to relax just a little. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return. Until then, I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved... one way or another."

Annabeth stifled a sob. Chiron patted her shoulder awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. We must hope... well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."

"Who is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" Percy demanded. "Where does he get off taking your job?"

A conch horn blew across the valley—dinnertime.

"Go," Chiron said. "You will meet him at the pavilion. I will contact your mother, Percy, and let her know you're safe. No doubt she'll be worried by now. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the titan lord has forgotten you!"

With that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"

He started bawling almost as bad as Annabeth.

Naomi tried to reassure them things would be okay, but it was hard to be convincing when she didn't believe it herself.

The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. Naomi joined the Demeter cabin, leaning into Asher's embrace as he wrapped an arm around her.

He looked as exhausted as the rest of his siblings—the Demeter cabin had been spending just about every hour of every day trying to figure out what had poisoned Thalia's tree and how to cure it. With their plant magic, they had managed to slow it down a little, but the tree was dying—there was no getting around it. Her cabinmates could only buy the camp so much time before the borders were gone and they became a buffet for every monster in Long Island.

As soon as the last of the campers filed in, Percy led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion. Conversations faltered. Heads turned.

"Who invited that?" somebody from the Apollo table murmured.

From the head table, Mr. D drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter Johnson. My millennium is complete."

Percy's jaw ticked. "Percy Jackson... sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days, whatever."

Across the pavilion, Drew caught Naomi's gaze and rolled her eyes theatrically.

Next to Mr. D, where Chiron usually sat, was a stranger. A pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jumpsuit. The number over his pocket read 0001. He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut gray hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker.

"That's Chiron's replacement?" Naomi whispered to Asher.

"Looks more like our punishment," he muttered back.

The nymphs passed the plates around. When Naomi reached the fire, just as she had every meal since moving into the Cabin Four, she sacrificed a portion to Demeter and sent a prayer of thanks for letting her stay in her cabin.

What was there for her to thank her mother for, anyway?

Almost as soon as she finished eating her slice of pizza, Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn for announcements.

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his plate, as if trying to sneak up on it. The plate shot away down the table as soon as he got close.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture—er, interact—with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

"I'm uncomfortable," Katie Gardner, the summertime Demeter counselor, muttered under her breath.

"You and me both," Miranda agreed lowly.

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some half-hearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"

Murmuring broke out at all the tables—excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," Lee from the Apollo cabin called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days' time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

That got just about everyone excited.

Then the last person Naomi would expect objected.

"But, sir!" Clarisse said. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots—"

"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't—"

"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"

"But the tree—"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabinmates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the camp the campfire and sing-alone, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring this here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers.

"A Cyclops?" one of Naomi's cabinmates—a summer-only camper, Daisy—asked quietly. "Now?"

"Perfect timing," Asher muttered sarcastically.

"Now, of course," Tantalus said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. The Stolls developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. Naomi couldn't blame them—Cabin Eleven was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a six-foot Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kenneled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped as a symbol appeared over Tyson's head—a sea-green, holographic image of a trident.

Poseidon's symbol.

There was a moment of awed silence.

Being claimed wasn't that common of an event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When Percy had been claimed by Poseidon in front of the whole camp, everyone had knelt.

But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Naomi glowered at the activities director, and at all of the campers around her who burst into laughter. How could they be so mean?

Tyson didn't seem to notice. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He didn't seem to understand that they were making fun of him, how cruel people could be.

Chapter 29: iii. tensions rise and faces fall

Chapter Text

NAOMI WASN'T MUCH FOR CHARIOT RACING, but it proved a nice distraction from the camp's impending doom and her everlasting hatred for her mother.

Naomi picked at the grass around her as Annabeth and Percy sketched chariot designs for the race. They'd decided to team up, given that Athena and Poseidon's best (and maybe only) collaboration in mythology was creating the chariot.

"How come your cabin's not participating, Nay?" Annabeth asked, making small talk as she erased a few misplaced lines on her sketch.

"Katie thinks this whole thing's a waste of perfectly healthy trees," Naomi told her. She plucked a blade of grass and twisted it between her fingers. "She's boycotting the event. I think most of Cabin Four is."

"You're not boycotting, are you?" Percy asked.

"Silena's dad sent her a bunch of kettle-corn, so she's bringing it to the race to share," Naomi said. "I'm not missing that for the world."

"So you're coming for the food and not to cheer us on?" Percy asked, feigning disappointment.

"Precisely."

"Since when are you and Silena so close, anyway?" he asked.

"Since she saved me from a code purple," Naomi answered.

Annabeth winced. "A code purple?"

Percy frowned, confused. "What's a code purple?"

"Self-inflicted bad haircut," Annabeth explained. "The bangs?"

"The bangs," Naomi confirmed. "After that, she and Drew introduced me to a bunch of pop culture stuff I missed out on at St. Monica's. Taylor Swift, Harry Potter—that kind of stuff. She even helped me and Drew talk Ethan into letting us dye his hair purple."

"Ethan—the kid at the Big House the other day?" Percy asked.

"Yeah," Naomi said. "He's not new or anything—he's been in the Hermes cabin since before we even got here. You met him last summer."

Percy shrugged. "Guess I just forgot."

Annabeth snorted. "Sure."

Percy glared at her. "What?"

"Nothing," Annabeth said, feigning innocence. "Should we put the javelin holder on the inside or outside of the chariot?"

Percy shrugged. "Outside, I guess." He turned back to Naomi. "Ethan's a son of Hermes?"

Naomi shook her head. "Son of Nemesis, goddess of revenge." She snorted. "You should've seen the prank he pulled on the Stolls when they cheated during our poker game—he filled their bunks with owl pellets. It was gross."

"Wait, you played poker?" Percy asked, incredulous.

"A couple times," Naomi said. "I'm no good at it, though. Ethan and the Stolls tried to teach me and Drew how to play so we could make a team, but I can't bluff for the life of me and Drew gets pissy when she starts losing. She kicked Connor in the shin so hard after the game he cried."

Annabeth snorted. "I would've paid to see that."

"You're lucky," Percy muttered. "You get to stay here year-round and learn how to play poker while I had to suffer through Lord of the Flies."

"I had to worry about my new stepdad trying to kill me, too," Naomi muttered, picking a little more aggressively at the grass. "I feel like he's lying in wait, ready to strike the second he gets a chance."

"How is that, anyway?" Annabeth asked. "Being a child of Persephone?"

Naomi scowled at the grass. "It sucks."

"C'mon, Nay, it's not that bad," Percy said, clearly trying to sound upbeat. "You're not the only demigod at camp who's not supposed to exist."

Naomi sighed. "It's different for you, Percy. Your dad's had demigod kids before—Persephone never has. She and Hades are supposedly one of the happier couples in Greek mythology, and here I come. It's probably why she took so long to claim me—she didn't want to admit that she cheated."

"You can't know that, Naomi," Annabeth said gently. "Maybe she was waiting for the right time."

Naomi leaned back on her hands, sighing through her nose. "I'm starting to wish she never did," she grumbled. "Part of me thinks not knowing is better than this."

Next to her hand, a purple hyacinth rose from the grass, growing to a few inches high. The purple petals glistened with dew in the sunlight.

"Did you do that on purpose?" Percy asked.

Naomi scowled, grabbing the stem and ripping the flower out of the ground. "No," she grumbled. "It just happens sometimes. It's annoying." She threw the hyacinth as far away as the air would take the delicate thing.

It didn't get very far.

"Could be worse," Annabeth said. "Hades could have actually been your dad."

Naomi sighed. "I guess you're right," she conceded.

"You guess?"

Naomi threw a handful of grass at Annabeth, earning a playful glare.

Percy flopped down on the grass dramatically. "I'm bored!"

"We've been brainstorming chariot designs for ten minutes," Annabeth said. "How are you already bored?"

"It's not my fault—I have ADHD, my attention span's crap," Percy said defensively

"We all have ADHD, Percy," Annabeth reminded him.

"Come on, the race isn't for another week, we have plenty of time to get it done," Percy said. "Let's do something fun."

Annabeth sighed. "What do you suggest?"

"I don't know," Percy said. He thought about it, then snapped his fingers and pointed at Naomi. "We can teach Naomi how to swim."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at Naomi. "You don't know how to swim?"

"I know how to swim!" Naomi protested.

"You almost drowned in the school pool last year," Percy reminded her.

"Yeah, last year," Naomi said. "I learned to swim in April."

Percy sat up. "Who taught you how to swim?"

"Ethan."

Percy raised both of his eyebrows. "Ethan taught you to swim?"

"Yeah," Naomi said. "What's wrong with that?"

"You—you asked Ethan to teach you how to swim over me?"

"You were at school," Naomi reminded him. "Besides, I didn't ask—he offered."

"I was coming back in the summer!" Percy said indignantly.

Naomi shrugged. "I didn't want to wait until summer. What's the big deal?"

"Yeah, Percy, what's the big deal?" Annabeth asked, failing at hiding an amused smirk.

"I—I just think it's weird you got some random guy to teach you how to swim when your best friends with a son of the sea god," Percy said. "That's all."

"Ethan's not a random guy. Besides, do you even know how to teach someone to swim?" Naomi asked. "You can breathe underwater, you barely even have to do anything to swim."

"It's the principle!" Percy argued.

"Principle of what?"

"Never mind!" he huffed.

Naomi frowned, opening her mouth to ask him what his problem was when a group of Aphrodite girls—she only recognized Stephanie, the sister Drew complained about most; the rest of the summer Aphrodite kids were a mystery to her—walked by, whispering to each other until they reached Naomi and her friends.

Stephanie held out a tube of eyeliner. "Hey, Percy, do you need to borrow some eyeliner for your eye... Oh, sorry, eyes."

As they walked away laughing, Annabeth shook her head. "Just ignore them, Percy. It isn't your fault you have a monster for a brother."

"He's not my brother!" Percy snapped. "And he's not a monster, either!"

Annabeth raised her eyebrows at him. "Hey, don't get mad at me! And technically, he is a monster."

"Well, you gave him permission to enter the camp."

"Because it was the only way to save your life! I mean... I'm sorry, Percy, I didn't expect Poseidon to claim him. Cyclopes are the most deceitful, treacherous—"

"He is not!" Percy argued. "What have you got against Cyclopes, anyway?"

Annabeth's ears turned pink. Naomi got the feeling there was something she wasn't saying—something bad.

"Just forget it," Annabeth said. "Now, the axle for this chariot—"

"You're treating him like he's this horrible being," Percy pressed. "He saved my life."

Annabeth threw down her pencil and stood. "Then maybe you should design a chariot with him."

"Maybe I should," Percy snapped.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

She stormed off without another word.

Naomi watched Annabeth's retreating figure until she was just a spot in the distance, then looked back at Percy. "What's up with you today?"

"Nothing's up with me!" Percy exclaimed. "I'm just tired of her acting like Tyson's evil. He hasn't done anything to her."

"He's still a Cyclops, Percy," Naomi said. "Maybe she had a bad experience with one—y'know, like the one that broke my arm last summer?"

"But you're not treating Tyson like that," Percy said.

"Doesn't mean I'm not wary of him," Naomi countered.

"You're scared of Tyson?"

"I said wary, not scared," Naomi corrected defensively.

"You don't even know him," Percy argued.

"He's only been here for a week, of course I don't know him."

"You never try to talk to him, either."

"Because I'm wary!" Naomi snapped. "We just went over this!"

"You're not wary of Ethan!"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Naomi asked, completely bewildered by the turn the semi-argument had taken. "I've known Ethan since last summer. He's my friend."

"Yeah, your best friend, apparently," Percy snapped.

"Is that what this is about?" she demanded. "Are you mad I made friends?" Bright magenta petunias sprang up around her feet, but she paid them no attention. "Are you forgetting that you, Annabeth, and Grover—my only friends here—left to go back to the real world and I was stuck here? You really would rather I'd been alone the whole time, just waiting for you guys to come back? Because I was waiting—but I'm not gonna be a loner just because you're not here."

Percy's face fell. "That's not what I—"

"Forget it," Naomi grumbled. "Come find me when you stop being a jerk for no reason."

Taking a page from Annabeth's book, she stormed away, trampling the petunias on her way out.

When the sun began to set that evening, Naomi found herself sitting at the base of Thalia's tree, surrounded by an assortment of flowers, a tattered copy of Herbal Remedies open on her lap.

She passed a hand over a patch of dying grass, feeling a rush in her veins that was becoming steadily more familiar with every passing day. Yellow-orange flower buds rose out of the dirt, growing until they brushed against her fingertips.

She let out a frustrated breath. "I wanted begonias," she muttered to herself. "Not calendulas."

"Don't get discouraged, Nay," Katie reassured her, drawing her hand back from the trunk of the Thalia's tree. Her skin was paler than usual as she shakily sat down next to Naomi. "It took me a full month to stop growing carrots when I was trying to grow potatoes."

Naomi let her head fall back against the tree trunk. "I just feel useless," she muttered, plucking a handful of the useless calendulas out of the ground. "You guys are killing yourselves trying to slow the poison down and I can't even summon the right flowers to try and do the same."

"Give yourself a break," Katie said. "We've been doing this kind of thing a lot longer than you. You're still learning—it takes time, but you'll get there."

Naomi sighed, watching disinterestedly as a moth came to settle on her bent knee. "The tree doesn't have time," she murmured. "The camp doesn't have time. What's gonna happen if we don't find a cure for the poison?"

"I don't know," Katie admitted. That was something Naomi found herself liking about the head counselor—she was always honest. She didn't sugarcoat things or tell white lies to make anyone feel better. "Maybe we'll find a new place to set up, or a new way of keeping the camp safe. Maybe—maybe border patrol will have to be our new reality. Cabin Nine could build a perimeter fence of celestial bronze around the border, to make it harder for monsters to get in. Or maybe... I don't know—maybe we'll have to figure something else out."

"This is the only home I have now," Naomi whispered. "It hasn't even been a year since I came here and everything's falling apart. It's like I'm bad luck."

"Oh, come on," Katie said. "You can't blame yourself for this kind of stuff. The only person to blame is the person who poisoned the tree."

Luke.

She had no proof, but she knew it was Luke who'd poisoned the tree—it was the only explanation that made sense.

She tried to think about the son of Hermes as little as possible, but there was seldom a day that she didn't remember her first camp-friend turned camp-traitor. Luke had been the first to tell her that the campers were a big family, and that Camp Half-Blood could be her home if she let it. That talk about family had all been crap, though—it hadn't stopped him from betraying the camp. It hadn't stopped him from trying to kill Percy and abduct Naomi.

She'd known him the shortest amount of time of anyone at camp, but the betrayal still stung like a wound that had gone untreated for too long.

"We're going to figure it out, Nay," Katie said softly. "Camp Half-Blood's been around for centuries—maybe not in the same place or in the same form, but it's always been around. It'll take more than this to tear it all down."

Naomi nodded, trying to force herself to believe the counselor. "You're good at pep talks, y'know?"

Katie smiled, wrapping an arm around Naomi's shoulders. "What else are half-aunts for?" She squeezed Naomi once, then retracted her arm. "I'm gonna head back to the cabin. You coming?"

"In a minute," Naomi said. "I want to try for begonias one more time. They're supposed to get rid of toxins in the body—I'm hoping it can do something similar to the tree."

Katie nodded. "Don't wear yourself out," she warned. "And be back before curfew."

"I will," Naomi promised. "I'll probably head back when the border patrol switches out."

"Okay," Katie said, stifling a yawn with her hand. "Night."

"Night."

Katie walked away, calling out a goodbye to the Stolls—well, only Connor, since she either hated Travis's guts or was playing hard-to-get (Miranda and Silena were split on the matter).

Naomi closed the Herbal Remedies book, setting it down on top of a patch of marigolds (another failed attempt at begonias). She breathed in slowly, letting it out just as slowly, and closed her eyes, her hand poised over a tiny patch of dirt at the very base of Thalia's tree.

Concentrate, she told herself, remembering what Miranda and Asher had taught her over the year as she tried to gain actual control over her new power. Just picture the begonia and let it—

"Naomi?"

So much for concentration.

Naomi opened her eyes, looking up to see Percy standing there awkwardly, fidgeting with his pen.

"Percy," she said.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same question," Naomi responded.

Percy frowned. "I'm not mad at you."

Naomi sighed. "I'm not mad at you, either. What're you doing out here?"

"Border patrol," he answered. "You?"

"I'm trying to summon some flowers to help slow the poison down," she said. "It's not going very well."

Percy nodded. After a moment of awkward silence, he said, "I'm sorry I snapped earlier. It wasn't about you."

Naomi mustered a small smile. "I figured. For what it's worth—Ethan's not my best friend. That spot's already taken."

Percy grinned. "Still?"

"Nine months isn't long enough to change that," Naomi told him. She held up her hand, extending her pinky. "Promise."

Percy curled his pinky around hers, and the world shifted back into place.

"You should head back to your cabin," he told her. "The harpies'll be out any minute."

Naomi nodded. "Just one second... I wanna try one more time..." She closed her eyes, passing a hand over the patch of dirt, picturing the flowers she wanted to spring up.

When she opened her eyes, a bush of red flowers with ruffled petals had taken root at the base of Thalia's tree.

"Begonias?" Percy asked.

Naomi grinned. "Begonias."

Chapter 30: iv. demon pigeons ruin everything

Chapter Text

NAOMI STILL DIDN'T CARE MUCH FOR CHARIOT RACES. She understood the appeal, she supposed—big, rickety vehicles slamming into each other on a narrow race track. It was sort of like bumper cars for ancient Greeks.

But she was of the opinion that there were more important matters at hand—namely, the slowly dying tree that strengthened the camp borders and kept the campers who called it home from becoming monster food.

Alas, it seemed Tantalus didn't agree.

"What's the big deal about chariot racing, anyway?" Drew grumbled, taking a seat next to Naomi. "It's just a bunch of stupid-looking chariots with overcompetitive losers driving them."

"You think everyone's a loser, Tanaka," Ethan said from Naomi's other side.

"Everyone is a loser," Drew reminded him. "Everyone but me."

Ethan rolled his eyes. He nudged Naomi's arm with his shoulder. "Who do you think's gonna win?"

Naomi shrugged. When Percy and Annabeth were still on a team together, she would have easily said them. But now that they were manning their own chariots, she didn't know who to choose.

She didn't really care who won, anyway—her cabin wasn't competing, so there was no chance of them getting the no-chores reward.

"Hephaestus has them all beat," Silena said as she and a few of the other Aphrodite kids settled behind Naomi and her friends. She passed Drew a bag of kettle corn with a stern, "Share."

Drew rolled her eyes. "I know." She held the bag out to Naomi.

Naomi grinned as she took a handful.

"Hephaestus might have the craftsmanship, but Apollo's gonna have the speed," Ethan said, looking at the chariots with a critical eye. "It's a race. My money's on them."

Travis Stoll stuck his head forward between Naomi and Ethan, as if magically summoned by the mention of gambling. "Care to make that bet official, Nakamura?"

"Not a chance, Stoll," Ethan said without hesitation.

"What about you, Nay?" Connor asked, leaning forward to look at her profile. "You fancy placing a bet?"

"In your dreams," Naomi snorted.

"How'd you know I dreamed about robbing you blind in a chariot-race bet?"

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Aren't you competing?" she asked, jerking her chin toward the unmanned Hermes chariot.

"What, we can't take bets and compete at the same time?" Travis asked her. "It's called multi-tasking."

"It's called conspiracy," Ethan corrected, stealing some kettle corn from Naomi's handful. "Pretty sure it's frowned upon in serious competition."

"You guys are boring," Connor declared, shoving Ethan and Naomi apart to stand up on the next step down. "Watch us kick ass."

"More like suck ass," Drew snickered.

"Language," Silena chided half-heartedly as she checked her lipstick in a compact-mirror.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams started to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate éclair across the judge's table. "You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled like he didn't mean it—he probably didn't. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a cool chariot made of bronze and iron—even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. Naomi shuddered to think of what mechanical boobytraps they'd installed.

The Ares chariot was blood red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys.

Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but with the Stoll brothers, nothing was off-limits.

That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by Percy.

As Percy walked over to talk to Annabeth—who still looked pissed at him—Drew nudged Naomi. "What's up with those two? Lovers' quarrel?"

Naomi frowned. "They're not dating." Then she looked back at them. "...Are they?"

"I think you'd know, Nay," Silena said with a laugh, leaning forward to follow Drew and Naomi's gazes.

"Five drachma says they're together by the end of the summer," Drew said.

"Ten drachma says they don't get together until the end of next summer," Ethan countered.

"What do you think, Nay?" Drew asked. "You know 'em best. This summer or next?"

"You make it sound like they're inevitable," Naomi said quietly, stealing another handful of kettle corn so she didn't have to keep talking.

"Because they are," Drew said. "C'mon, it's a classic rivals-to-lovers story. Only question is how slow the burn'll be."

Naomi tried not to frown outwardly. She'd never really thought of Percy and Annabeth... together. Not that way, at least. It made her feel weird.

"Stop bugging her," Silena said, coming to Naomi's rescue, like always. "What's meant to be will be."

Drew rolled her eyes. "What love magazine did you steal that from?"

"It's a common saying, Drew, I don't need to cite my sources," Silena snarked back.

Before Drew could retort, the conch horn sounded.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

As everyone in the race lined up, screeching started to come from the woods, so loud Naomi and the others around her took notice. A crowd of shiny-eyed pigeons had taken up most of the trees at the front of the forest, making the branches shiver under the weight.

"That's weird," Ethan commented.

"You're weird," Drew said.

Ethan glared at her. "I hate you."

"Cry about it."

Naomi snickered.

Tantalus didn't look too bothered by the sudden horde of weird pigeons, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd started to cheer.

Almost immediately, the Hermes chariot rammed into the Apollo chariot. The golden beauty flipped, the riders thrown free, but the panicked horses kept going, dragging the chariot diagonally across the track.

The Stolls were laughing at their good luck until the Apollo horses crashed into their chariot, and it flipped, too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust.

"Talk about instant karma," Drew mumbled.

"Guess you're glad you didn't place a bet," Naomi told Ethan.

"Definitely," he agreed. "That was brutal."

Percy's chariot pulled ahead of Ares, but Annabeth's chariot left them both in the dust. She was already making her turn around the first post, her javelin man grinning and waving at the competition, shouting, "See ya!"

The Hephaestus chariot started gaining on Poseidon and Ares. Beckendorf deployed three sets of balls and chains, but Tyson deflected them with a quick swipe of his pole. He gave the Hephaestus chariot a good shove and sent them skittering sideways while the Poseidon chariot pulled ahead.

Naomi looked away as movement in the corner of her eye stole her attention. The shiny-eyed pigeons had risen from the trees, and now spiraling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track.

"Um... should we be concerned?" Naomi asked, looking back at Silena.

Silena looked at the bird tornado. "...I'm not sure."

Percy started gaining on Annabeth, but it was hard to even pay attention to them as the birds drew closer.

"Tantalus!" Naomi shouted, trying to raise her voice above the screeching, which was getting louder as the birds advanced. "Hey!"

He glared at her, looking annoyed. "What? You're interrupting the race!"

"I'm interrupting the race?" she demanded. "You have to call it off!" She pointed at the rapidly approaching swarm. "Something's—"

She was rudely interrupted by the demon pigeons attacking.

Naomi's sword was in her hand in a second, summoned by just a thought. She swatted at a bird as it dove straight for Drew's face. It exploded into standard yellow monster dust, but it was one of thousands.

A bird pecked ferociously at Naomi's arm, forcing a cry of startled pain out of her. "What are these things?" She swung at a trio of birds trying to descend on the spectators. She saw the glint of bronze as another snapped at her arm. She swung Hemlock through its neck and tried to ignore the blood dripping down her skin.

"What do we do?" Drew shrieked.

"Everyone, scatter!" Naomi screamed. "We're too big a target together! Spread out!"

It was a temporary fix, which was clear to anyone with more than a handful of braincells, but the spectators jumped into action, running in different directions. Hardly anyone had a weapon—who brings a sword to a chariot race? There shouldn't have been any reason to.

Camp was supposed to be safe.

The Athena campers were calling for shields. The archers from the Apollo cabin brought out their bows and arrows, ready to slay and menace, but with so many campers mixed in with the campers, it wasn't safe to shoot.

Naomi was slashing wildly at this point, trying to take as many birds out with every swing.

"This is why I hate pigeons!" Ethan shouted, slashing with his knife.

Naomi ducked, narrowly avoiding a razor-sharp bronze beak right to the eye. Much as she liked Ethan, she did not want to become eye-patch buddies with him anytime soon.

It felt like a hopeless battle. For every bird Naomi took out, three more came at her with a vengeance. Her sword arm was getting tired. Her skin was littered with cuts. Her shirt and shorts were practically unsalvageable at this point.

She spotted Tantalus chasing breakfast pastries around the stands, yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry!"

Gods, Naomi missed Chiron.

Another demonic bird dove at her face, slicing her cheek deeply as she barely managed to avoid getting her face impaled. Involuntary tears blurred her vision, but she kept swinging blindly, praying the other campers would have the sense to get out of the way.

Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.

The monster pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skywards in a huge dark wave.

"Now!" Naomi heard Annabeth shout. "Archers!"

With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Most of them could nock five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon.

The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed. Almost everyone was bleeding from multiple bird pecks.

Naomi pressed a hand to her cheek, wincing. When she looked at her hand a moment later, there was an alarming amount of blood on it.

Great, she thought sourly.

"Let me see it," Silena said, appearing out of nowhere to assess Naomi's face. "Gods, that looks bad. You need to—"

"Bravo!" Tantalus shouted. Naomi looked over to see him walk to the finish line. "We have our first winner!" He awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse, whose chariot had apparently crossed the finish line in the chaos.

Then Tantalus smiled cruelly. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."

Apparently, according to Tantalus, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and wouldn't have attacked if Annabeth, Tyson, and Percy hadn't disturbed them with their bad chariot driving, and Naomi's panic just spurred the birds on and made everything worse.

Glaring hurt with her cut cheek, but she did it anyway.

Percy told Tantalus to go chase a donut, which didn't help matters. He, Naomi, Annabeth, and Tyson were all sentenced to kitchen patrol—scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed the dishes with lava instead of water, to get that extra-clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons.

Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy were stuck suffering through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse's chariot victory—a full-course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird.

The only good thing about their punishment was that it gave Percy and Annabeth a common enemy and plenty of time to talk. Percy told them about his dream about Grover—apparently he'd found something special and was also coincidentally engaged to a horrible Cyclopes.

"If he's really found it," Annabeth murmured, "and if we could retrieve it—"

"Hold on," Percy said. "You act like this... whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save the camp. What is it?"

"I'll give you a hint. What do you get when you skin a ram?"

"Messy?" Percy asked.

"Nauseous?" Naomi offered.

Annabeth sighed. "A fleece. The coat of a ram is called a fleece. And if that ram happens to have golden wool—"

"The Golden Fleece," Percy realized. "Are you serious?"

Annabeth scraped a plateful of death-bird bones into the lava. "Percy, remember the Gray Sisters? They said they knew the location of the thing you seek. And they mentioned Jason. Three thousand years ago, they told him how to find the Golden Fleece. You do know the story of Jason and the Argonauts?"

"Yeah," Percy said. "That old movie with the clay skeletons."

Naomi shuddered. Claymation freaked her out big time—she'd never forgive Drew for making her watch Rudolph in the dark.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Oh my gods, Percy! You are so hopeless."

"What?" he demanded.

"Here we go again..." Naomi muttered under her breath.

"Just listen," Annabeth said. "The real story of the Fleece: there were these two children of Zeus, Cadmus and Europa, okay? They were about to get offered up as human sacrifices, when they prayed to Zeus to save them. So Zeus sent this magical flying ram with golden wool, which picked them up in Greece and carried them all the way to Colchis in Asia Minor. Well, actually it carried Cadmus. Europa fell off and died along the way, but that's not important."

"I feel like Europa would beg to differ," Naomi said.

"The point is, when Cadmus got to Colchis, he sacrificed the golden ram to the gods and hung the Fleece in a tree in the middle of the kingdom. The Fleece brought prosperity to the land. Animals stopped getting sick. Plants grew better. Farmers had bumper crops. Plagues never visited. That's why Jason wanted the Fleece. It can revitalize any land where it's place. It cures sicknesses, strengthens nature, cleans up pollution—"

"It could cure Thalia's tree," Percy said.

Annabeth nodded. "And it would totally strengthen the borders of Camp Half-Blood. But, guys, the Fleece has been missing for centuries. Tons of heroes have searched for it with no luck."

"But Grover found it," Percy said. "He went looking for Pan and he found the Fleece instead because they both radiate nature magic. It makes sense! We can rescue him and save the camp at the same time. It's perfect!"

Annabeth hesitated. "A little too perfect, don't you think? What if it's a trap?"

Naomi remembered last summer, how Kronos had manipulated their quest. He'd almost fooled them into helping him start a war that would've destroyed Western Civilization.

"What choice do we have?" Percy asked. "Are you going to help me rescue Grover or not?"

Annabeth glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in the conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.

"Percy," she said under her breath, "we'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the worst of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."

"There's a sea of monsters?" Naomi asked. "Seriously?"

"Where is it?" Percy asked.

Annabeth stared at them both like she thought they were playing dumb. "Of course there's a Sea of Monsters. The same sea Odysseus sailed through, and Jason, and Aeneas and all the others."

"You mean the Mediterranean?" Percy asked.

"No. Well, yes... but no."

Naomi blinked. "Come again?"

"Look, the Sea of Monsters is the sea all heroes sail through on their adventures," Annabeth explained. "It used to be in the Mediterranean, yes. But like everything else, it shifts locations as the West's center of power shifts."

"Like Mount Olympus being above the Empire State Building," Percy said. "And Hades being under Los Angeles."

"Right."

"But a whole sea full of monsters—how could you hide something like that? Wouldn't the mortals notice weird things happening... like, ships getting eaten and stuff?"

"Of course they notice," Annabeth said. "They don't understand, but they know something is strange about that part of the ocean. The Sea of Monsters is off the east coast of the U.S. now, just north-east of Florida. The mortals even have a name for it."

"The Bermuda Triangle?" Naomi guessed.

"Exactly."

"Okay..." Percy said, "so at least we know where to look."

"It's still a huge area," Annabeth said. "Searching for one tiny island in monster-infested waters—"

"Hey, I'm the son of the sea god. This is my home turf. How hard can it be?"

"Famous last words," Naomi muttered, earning an unimpressed look from Percy.

Annabeth knitted her eyebrows. "We'll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He'll say no."

"Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everyone," Percy said. "The whole camp will hear. They'll pressure him. He won't be able to refuse."

"Maybe." A little bit of hope crept into Annabeth's voice. "We'd better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?"

Chapter 31: v. clarisse jacks their quest

Chapter Text

THAT NIGHT AT THE CAMPFIRE, Apollo's cabin led the sing-along. They tried to get everyone's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. Everyone sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing half-heartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.

They did all the standard camp numbers: "Down by the Aegean," "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa," "This Land is Minos's Land." The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder the campers sang, the higher it rose, changing color and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, it got twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into flames. Tonight, the fire was only a few feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the color of lint.

Mr. D left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back toward the Big House.

When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"

He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow swan-dove straight into the flames.

Tantalus turned back toward the campers, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow's schedule."

"Sir," Percy spoke up.

Tantalus's eye twitched. "Our kitchen boy has something to say?"

Some of the Ares campers snickered. Percy stood and looked at Annabeth and Naomi. Annabeth stood up with him, pulling a reluctant Naomi up with her.

"We have an idea to save the camp," Percy declared.

Dead silence, but Naomi could tell that that had gotten everyone's attention, because the campfire flared bright yellow.

"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with chariots—"

"The Golden Fleece," Percy said. "We know where it is."

The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop him, Percy blurted out his dream about Grover and Polyphemus's island. Annabeth stepped in and reminded everyone what the Fleece could do. Naomi loved Percy, but it definitely sounded more convincing coming from the daughter of Athena.

"The Fleece can save the camp," Annabeth concluded. "I'm certain of it."

"Nonsense," said Tantalus. "We don't need saving."

Everybody stared at him until Tantalus started looking uncomfortable.

"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That's hardly an exact location. You wouldn't even know where to look."

"Yes, I would," Percy said.

Naomi leaned forward toward him and whispered, "You would?"

Percy nodded. "Thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve."

"Ooo-kay," Tantalus said. "Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers."

"They're sailing coordinates," Percy said. "Latitude and longitude. I, uh, learned about it in social studies."

Even Annabeth looked impressed. "Thirty degrees, thirty-one minutes north, seventy-five degrees, twelve minutes west. He's right! The Gray Sisters gave us those coordinates. That'd be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!"

"Wait just a minute," Tantalus said.

But the campers took up a chant. "We need a quest! We need a quest!"

The flames rose higher with hope.

"It isn't necessary!" Tantalus insisted.

"WE NEED A QUEST! WE NEED A QUEST!"

"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. "You brats want me to assign a quest?"

"YES!"

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."

Naomi's chest filled with hope, despite Tantalus's pessimism.

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose three companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champions is obvious."

Tantalus looked at Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy like he wanted to flay them alive. "The champion should be one who has earned the camp's respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defense of camp. You shall lead this quest... Clarisse!"

The fire flickered a thousand different colors. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, "CLARISSE! CLARISSE!"

Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. "I accept this quest!"

"Wait!" Percy shouted. "Grover is my friend. The dream came to me."

"Sit down!" yelled one of the Ares campers. "You had your chance last summer!"

"Yeah, he just wants to be in the spotlight again!" another said.

Clarisse glared at Percy. "I accept the quest!" she repeated. "I, Clarisse, daughter of Ares, will save the camp!"

The Ares campers cheered even louder. Annabeth protested, and the other Athena campers joined in. Everybody else started taking sides—shouting and arguing and throwing marshmallows. Naomi thought it was going to turn into a fully fledged s'more war until Tantalus shouted, "Silence, you brats!"

Naomi flinched at his tone, and she wasn't the only one.

"Sit down!" he ordered. "And I will tell you a ghost story."

Everyone moved reluctantly back to their seats. The evil aura radiating from Tantalus was as strong as any monster.

"Once upon a time there was a mortal king who was beloved of the gods!" Tantalus put his hand on his chest, and Naomi got the feeling he was talking about himself.

"This king," he said, "was even allowed to feast on Mount Olympus. But when he tried to take some ambrosia and nectar back to earth to figure out the recipe—just one little doggie bag, mind you—the gods punished him. They banned him from their halls forever! His own people mocked him! His children scolded him! And, oh yes, campers, he had horrible children. Children—just—like—you!"

He pointed a crooked finger at several people in the audience, including Naomi.

"Do you know what he did to his ungrateful children?" Tantalus asked softly. "Do you know how he paid back the gods for their cruel punishment? He invited the Olympians to a feast at his palace, just to show there were no hard feelings. No one noticed that his children were missing. And when he served the gods dinner, my dear campers, can you guess what was in the stew?"

No one dared answer. The firelight glowed dark blue, reflecting evilly on Tantalus's crooked face.

"Oh, the gods punished him in the afterlife," Tantalus croaked. "They did indeed. But he'd had his moment of satisfaction, hadn't he? His children never again spoke back to him or questioned his authority. And do you know what? Rumor has it that the king's spirit now dwells at this very camp, waiting for a chance to take revenge on ungrateful, rebellious children. And so... are there any more complaints, before we send Clarisse off on her quest?"

Silence.

Tantalus nodded at Clarisse. "The Oracle, my dear. Go on."

She shifted uncomfortably, like even she didn't want glory at the price of being Tantalus's pet. "Sir—"

"Go!" he snarled.

She bowed awkwardly and hurried off toward the Big House.

"What about you, Percy Jackson?" Tantalus asked. "No comments from our dishwasher?"

Percy said nothing, but his eyes were narrowed in an angry glare.

"Good," Tantalus said. "And let me remind everyone—no one leaves this camp without my permission. Anyone who tries...well, if they survive the attempt, they will be expelled forever, but it won't come to that. The harpies will be enforcing curfew from now on, and they are always hungry! Good night, my dear campers. Sleep well."

With a wave of Tantalus's hand, the fire was extinguished, and the campers trailed off toward their cabins in the dark.

That night, Naomi laid on her bed, staring up at the bottom of the top bunk. The vines that had grown through the wooden planks dangled about a foot above her head, within reach as she held a hand up above her, twisting the end of one vine around her finger.

She couldn't sleep. The rest of her cabinmates were exhausted from their individual efforts to help Thalia's tree, and while Naomi was tired, too, she couldn't bring herself to close her eyes.

Clarisse would be leaving in the morning for her quest. Objectively, Naomi knew she was a good choice—she was one of the best fighters in camp, she cared about camp, and she wasn't afraid of just about anything.

But Naomi couldn't shake the feeling that she should've been on the quest. Her, Annabeth, and Percy. Grover was their friend, and this was their home, too—they should've been the ones to try to save it.

She couldn't decide if it was arrogance that made her think that, or some sort of divine intuition.

Or maybe it was boredom. Who could really say?

She sighed quietly, rolling onto her side. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to even fall asleep, not with this strange weight in her chest. She was worried about Grover. She was worried about the camp. She was worried about everything.

Then she heard Percy yelling outside.

She sat up, startled. A second later, she distinctly heard him shout, "Help!"

Oh gods.

Naomi fumbled with her blankets, shoving her feet into her shoes and grabbing a hoodie as she stumbled toward the door of her cabin. None of her cabinmates even stirred, but she didn't pay them any attention—not when she heard Percy yell, "Bad things are attacking!"

You could be a little more specific, y'know, Naomi thought, closing the Demeter cabin door behind her.

When she reached the sand dunes, following Percy's voice, she found she wasn't the only one out. Annabeth was there as well, Tyson a few yards away, both of them calling Percy's name.

When they finally found him, he was staring at the sea, four bright yellow duffel bags at his feet.

"What's going on?" Annabeth asked. "I heard you calling for help!"

"Me, too!" Tyson said. "Heard you yell, 'Bad things are attacking!'"

"Are you okay?" Naomi asked.

"I didn't call you guys," Percy said. "I'm fine."

"But then who..." Annabeth noticed the duffel bags, then the flask and bottle of vitamins in Percy's hands. "What—?"

Percy told them about his conversation with the god Hermes. By the time he was finished, Naomi could hear screeching in the distance—patrol harpies picking up their scent.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "We have to do the quest."

"We'll get expelled, you know," Percy said. "Trust me, I'm an expert at getting expelled."

"It doesn't matter," Naomi said. "We have to do it."

"Besides," Annabeth said, "if we fail, there won't be any camp to come back to."

"Yeah, but you promised Chiron—"

"I promised I'd keep you two out of danger," Annabeth said. "I can only do that by coming with you! Tyson can stay behind and tell them—"

"I want to go," Tyson said.

"No!" Annabeth's voice sounded close to panic. "I mean... Percy, come on. You know that's impossible."

Percy looked conflicted, then finally, he decided, "We can't leave him. Tantalus will punish him for us being gone."

"Percy," Annabeth said, trying to keep her cool, "we're going to Polyphemus's island! Polyphemus is an S-i-k... a C-y-k..." She stamped her foot in frustration. As smart as she was, Annabeth was dyslexic, too. They could've been there all night while she tried to spell Cyclops. "You know what I mean!"

"Tyson can go," Percy insisted, "if he wants to."

Tyson clapped his hands. "Want to!"

Annabeth gave Percy the evil eye, but it looked like she knew Percy wasn't going to change his mind. Or maybe she realized they didn't have time to argue.

"All right," she said. "How do we get to that ship?"

"Hermes said my father would help," Percy said.

"Well then, Seaweed Brain? What are you waiting for?"

Percy stepped into the waves. "Um, Dad?" he called. "How's it going?"

"We're in a bit of a hurry," Naomi reminded him.

"We need your help," Percy called a little louder. "We need to get to that ship, like, before we get eaten and stuff, so..."

At first, nothing happened. Waves crashed against the shore like normal. The harpies sounded like they were right behind the sand dunes. Then, about a hundred yards out to sea, four white lines appeared on the surface. They moved fast toward the shore, like claws ripping through the ocean.

As they neared the beach, the surf burst apart and the heads of four white stallions reared out of the waves.

Tyson caught his breath. "Fish ponies!"

He was right. As the creatures pulled themselves onto the sand, Naomi saw that they were only horses in the front; their back halves were silvery fish bodies, with glistening scales and rainbow-tail fins.

"Hippocampi!" Annabeth said. "They're beautiful."

The nearest one whinnied in appreciation and nuzzled Annabeth.

"We'll admire them later," Percy said. "Come on!"

"There!" a voice screeched behind them. "Bad children out of cabins! Snack time for lucky harpies!"

Five of them were fluttering over the tops of the dunes—plump little hags with pinched faces and talons and feathery wings too small for their bodies. They weren't very fast, thank the gods, but they were vicious if they caught you.

"Tyson!" Percy said. "Grab a duffel bag!"

He was still staring at the hippocampi with his mouth hanging open.

"Tyson!"

"Uh?"

"Come on!"

They gathered the bags and mounted their steeds. Poseidon must've known Tyson was one of the passengers, because one hippocampus was much larger than the other three—just right for carrying a Cyclops.

"Giddy-up!" Percy said. His hippocampus turned and plunged into the waves, the rest following right behind.

The harpies cursed at them, wailing for their snacks to come back, but the hippocampi raced over the water at the speed of jet skis. The harpies fell behind, and soon the shore of Camp Half-Blood was nothing but a smudge in the distance.

Their ride to the Sea of Monsters was huge. As the hippocampi brought them closer to the cruise ship, Naomi felt like she was looking up at a building in Manhattan. The white hull was at least ten stories tall, topped with another dozen levels of decks with brightly lit balconies and portholes. The ship's name was painted just above the bow line in black letters, lit with a spotlight. It took a few moments for Naomi to decipher it: PRINCESS ANDROMEDA.

Attached to the bow was a huge masthead—a three-story tall woman wearing a white Greek chiton, sculpted to look as if she were chained to the front of the ship. She was young and beautiful, with flowing black hair, but her expression was one of absolute terror. Why anybody would want a screaming princess on the front of their vacation ship, Naomi couldn't really understand.

She remembered the myth of Andromeda—how she'd been chained to a rock by her parents as a sacrifice to the sea monster Poseidon had sent to the kingdom after Andromeda's mother boasted that she was more beautiful than the Nereids. Perseus—Percy's legendary namesake—had saved her just in time and turned the sea monster to stone using the severed head of medusa.

"How do we get on board?" Annabeth shouted over the noise of the waves, but the hippocampi seemed to know what they needed. They skimmed along the starboard side of the ship, riding easily through its huge wake, and pulled up next to a service ladder riveted to the side of the hull.

Annabeth went up first. She slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and grabbed the bottom rung. Once she'd hoisted herself onto the ladder, her hippocampus whinnied a farewell and dove underwater. Annabeth began to climb, and once she was up a few rungs, Naomi followed, then a few moments later, Percy.

Finally it was just Tyson in the water. His hippocampus was treating him to three-hundred-and-sixty degree aerials and backwards ollies, and Tyson was laughing so hysterically, the sound echoed up the side of the ship.

"Tyson, shhh!" Percy said. "Come on, big guy!"

"Can't we take Rainbow?" he asked, his smile fading.

Percy stared at him. "Rainbow?"

The hippocampus whinnied as if he liked his new name.

"Um, we have to go," Percy said. "Rainbow... well, he can't climb ladders."

Tyson sniffled. He buried his face in the hippocampus's mane. "I will miss you, Rainbow!"

The hippocampus made a neighing sound that almost sounded like crying.

"Maybe we'll see him again sometime," Percy suggested.

"Oh, please!" Tyson said, perking up immediately. "Tomorrow!"

Percy finally convinced Tyson to say his farewells and grab hold of the ladder. With a final sad whinny, Rainbow the hippocampus did a backflip and dove into the sea.

The ladder led to a maintenance deck stacked with yellow lifeboats. There was a set of locked double-doors, which Annabeth managed to pry open with her knife and a fair amount of cursing in Ancient Greek.

After checking a few corridors and peering over a balcony into a huge central promenade lined with closed shops, it became clear there weren't many passengers on this cruise ship. Sure, it was the middle of the night, but they walked half the length of the boat and met no one. They passed forty or fifty cabin doors and heard no sound behind any of them.

"It's a ghost ship," Percy murmured.

Naomi fought a shudder. She really wished she hadn't let Drew convince her to watch all of the Paranormal Activity movies last month. "Don't say that."

"No," Tyson said, fiddling with the strap of his duffel bag. "Bad smell."

Annabeth frowned. "I don't smell anything."

"Cyclopes are like satyrs," Percy said. "They can smell monsters. Isn't that right, Tyson?"

He nodded nervously. Now that they were away from Camp Half-Blood, the Mist had distorted his face. It looked like he had two eyes instead of one.

"Okay," Annabeth said. "So what exactly do you smell?"

"Something bad," Tyson answered.

"Great," Annabeth grumbled. "That clears it up."

They came outside on the swimming pool level. There were rows of empty deckchairs and a bar closed off with a chain curtain. The water in the pool glowed eerily, sloshing back and forth with the motion of the ship.

Above them were more levels—a climbing wall, a pitch-and-putt golf course, a revolving restaurant, but no sign of life.

And yet... something was definitely off.

"We need a hiding place," Percy said. "Somewhere safe to sleep."

"Sleep," Annabeth agreed wearily.

They explored a few more corridors until they found an empty suite on the ninth level. The door was open, which was odd. There was a basket of chocolate goodies on the table, an iced-down bottle of cider on the nightstand, and a mint on the pillow with a handwritten note that said: Enjoy your cruise!

They opened their duffel bags and found that Hermes had thought of everything—extra clothes, toiletries, camp rations, an airtight bag full of cash, a leather pouch full of golden drachmas. He'd even managed to pack Tyson's oilcloth with his tools and metal bits, Annabeth's cap of invisibility, and... a flower?

Naomi took out the freshly cut flower that had been pressed delicately on top of the other supplies in her bag. She was surprised it hadn't gotten crushed, but it looked as lively and healthy as any flower still in the ground.

She untied the tiny scroll that was around the flower stem, reading the cursive handwriting inside:

Grandma says hi! Fresh from your mother's flower garden in Suzhou.

Keep it close.

"A gift from Demeter?" Annabeth asked, coming over to look at it. "What kind of flower is it?"

"Moth orchid," Naomi answered. She tucked it behind her ear, flinching with surprise as the stem came to life, curling around the shell of her ear and securing itself in place.

"A sentient hair accessory," she muttered to herself. "Wonderful."

"It's cute," Annabeth said. She grabbed Naomi's hand, turning to Percy and Tyson. "We'll be next door. You guys don't drink or eat anything."

"You think this place is enchanted?" Percy asked.

She frowned. "I don't know. Something isn't right. Just... be careful."

They made sure to lock their doors for the night.

The temporary insomnia that had plagued Naomi earlier in the night had disappeared, leaving her exhausted. She and Annabeth crawled into the queen-size bed almost immediately after triple-checking the lock.

Naomi was out in seconds.

Chapter 32: vi. luke has major daddy issues

Chapter Text

NAOMI WOKE TO A SHIP'S WHISTLE and a voice on the intercom—a guy with an Australian accent and too-happy tone.

"Good morning, passengers! We'll be at sea all day today. Excellent weather for the poolside mambo party! Don't forget million-dollar bingo in the Kraken Lounge at one o'clock, and for our special guests, disemboweling practice on the Promenade!"

Naomi blinked, turning her head to look at an awake Annabeth, who was staring at the ceiling with a half-confused, half-angry expression.

"Did he say... disemboweling practice?" Naomi asked.

"I think so."

Once all of the questers were all dressed, they ventured out into the ship and were surprised to see other people. A dozen senior citizens were heading to breakfast. A dad was taking his kids to the pool for a morning swim. Crew members in crisp white uniforms strolled the deck, tipping their hats to the passengers.

Nobody asked who the four unaccompanied minors were. Nobody paid them any attention, really. But there was definitely something wrong.

As a family of swimmers passed, the dad told his kids, "We are on a cruise. We are having fun."

"Yes," his three kids said in unison, their expressions blank. "We are having a blast. We will swim in the pool."

They wandered off.

"Good morning," a crew member greeted the questers. His eyes were glazed over like he was sleepwalking. "We are all enjoying ourselves aboard the Princess Andromeda. Have a nice day." He drifted away.

"I'm officially freaked out," Naomi whispered. "What's going on?"

"They're all in some kind of trance," Annabeth whispered.

Then they passed a cafeteria and saw their first monster. It was a hellhound, her front paws on the buffet counter and her muzzle buried in the scrambled eggs. She must've been young, because she was small compared to most—no bigger than a grizzly bear.

The weird thing was, a middle-aged couple was standing in the buffet queue right behind the hellhound, patiently waiting their turn for the eggs. They didn't seem to think anything was amiss.

"Not hungry anymore," Tyson murmured.

Before anyone could reply, a reptilian voice came from down the hall, "Ssssix more joined yesssterday."

Annabeth gestured frantically toward the nearest hiding place—the women's room—and all four of them ducked inside.

Something—two somethings, from the sounds of it—slithered past the restroom door, making sounds like sandpaper against carpet.

"Yesss," a second reptilian voice said. "He drawssss them. Ssssoon we will be sssstrong."

The things slithered into the cafeteria with a cold hissing that might have been laughter.

"We have to get out of here," Annabeth said.

"You think I want to be in the girls' restroom?" Percy asked.

"I mean the ship, Percy! We have to get off the ship."

"Smells bad," Tyson agreed. "And dogs eat all the eggs. Annabeth is right. We must leave the restroom and ship."

Then there was another voice outside—one that was more frightening than any monster's.

"—only a matter of time. Don't push me, Agrius!"

It was Luke—there was no doubt about it. Naomi could never forget his voice.

"I'm not pushing you!" another guy growled. His voice was deeper and even angrier than Luke's. "I'm just saying, if this gamble doesn't pay off—"

"It'll pay off," Luke snapped. "They'll take the bait. Now, come, we've got to get to the admiralty suite and check on the casket."

Their voices receded down the corridor.

Tyson whimpered. "Leave now?"

Naomi, Percy, and Annabeth exchanged looks.

"We can't," Percy told Tyson.

"We have to find out what Luke is up to," Annabeth agreed. "And if possible, we're going to beat him up, bind him in chains, and drag him to Mount Olympus."

"Hear, hear," Naomi mumbled in agreement.

Annabeth volunteered to go alone since she had the cap of invisibility, but it was way too dangerous. Either they all went together, or nobody went.

"Nobody!" Tyson voted. "Please?"

But in the end he came along, nervously chewing on his fingernails. They stopped long enough at their cabin to gather their stuff. They figured whatever happened, they would not be staying another night aboard the zombie cruise ship, even if they did have million-dollar bingo.

Naomi felt bad about Tyson carrying everything, but he insisted, and Annabeth said not to worry about it. Tyson could carry four full duffel bags over his shoulder as easily as Naomi could carry a single backpack.

They snuck through the corridors, following the ship's YOU ARE HERE signs toward the admiralty suite. Annabeth scouted ahead invisibly. They hid whenever someone passed by, but most of the people they saw were just glassy-eyed zombie passengers.

As they came up the stairs to deck thirteen, where the admiralty suite was supposed to be, Annabeth hissed, "Hide!" and shoved them into a supply closet.

Naomi heard a few guys coming down the hall.

"You see that Aethiopian drakon in the cargo hold?" one of them said.

The other laughed. "Yeah, it's awesome."

Naomi frowned. She knew that voice.

"I hear they got two more coming," the familiar voice said. "They keep arriving at this rate, oh, man—no contest!"

The voices faded down the corridor.

"That was Chris Rodriguez!" Annabeth took off her cap and turned visible. "From Cabin Eleven."

That's who it was. Naomi remembered now—he'd been her first sword-fighting partner, during her first week at Camp Half-Blood. He'd been so nice, calling out pointers, giving her tips and tricks to take down her opponents. He'd left for the school year at the end of last summer, but now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen him around since the start of this summer.

"What's another half-blood doing here?" Percy asked.

Annabeth shook her head, clearly troubled.

They kept going down the corridor.

Soon, Annabeth stopped short. "Look."

She stood in front of a glass wall looking down into the multistory canyon that ran through the middle of the ship. At the bottom was the Promenade—a mall full of shops—but that's not what had caught Annabeth's attention.

A group of monsters had assembled in front of the candy store: a dozen giants, two hellhounds, and a few even stranger creatures—humanoid women with twin serpent tails instead of legs.

"Scythian Dracaenae," Annabeth whispered. "Dragon women."

The monsters made a semicircle around a young guy in Greek armor who was hacking on a straw dummy. Naomi's stomach dropped when she realized the dummy was wearing an orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt. As they watched, the guy in armor stabbed the dummy through its belly and ripped upwards. Straw flew everywhere. The monsters cheered and howled.

Annabeth stepped away from the window. Her face was ashen.

Naomi reached for her hand, and Annabeth gripped it tightly.

"Come on," Percy said gently. "The sooner we find Luke the better."

At the end of the hallway were double oak doors that looked like they must lead somewhere important. When they were a few yards away, Tyson stopped. "Voices inside."

"You can hear that far?" Percy asked.

Tyson closed his eye like he was concentrating hard. Then his voice changed, becoming a husky approximation of Luke's. "—the prophecy ourselves. The fools won't know which way to turn."

Before Naomi could comprehend that, Tyson's voice changed again, becoming deeper and gruffer, like the other guy they'd heard talking to Luke outside the cafeteria. "You really think the old horseman is gone for good?"

Tyson laughed Luke's laugh. "They can't trust him. Now with the skeletons in his closet. The poisoning of the tree was the final straw."

Annabeth shivered. "Stop that, Tyson! How do you do that? It's creepy."

Tyson opened his eye and looked puzzled. "Just listening."

"Keep going," Percy said. "What else are they saying?"

Tyson closed his eye again.

He hissed in the gruff man's voice. "Quiet!" Then Luke's voice, whispering, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Tyson said in the gruff voice. "Right outside."

Percy just had time to say, "Run!" when the doors of the stateroom burst open and there was Luke, flanked by two hairy giants armed with javelins, their bronze tips aimed right at their chests.

"Well," Luke said with a crooked smile. "If it isn't my three favorite half-bloods. Come right in."

The stateroom was beautiful—and horrible.

The beautiful part: huge windows curved along the back wall, looking out over the stern of the ship. Green sea and blue sky stretched all the way to the horizon. A Persian rug covered the floor. Two plush sofas occupied the middle of the room, with a canopied bed in one corner and a mahogany dining table in the other. The table was loaded with food: pizza boxes, bottles of soda, and a stack of roast beef sandwiches on a silver platter.

The horrible part: on a velvet dais at the back of the room lay a ten-foot-long golden casket. A sarcophagus, engraved with Ancient Greek scenes of cities in flames and heroes dying grisly deaths. Despite the sunlight streaming through the windows, the casket made the whole room feel cold.

"Well," Luke said, spreading his arms proudly. "A little nicer than Cabin Eleven, huh?"

He'd changed since last summer. Instead of Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt, he wore a button-down shirt, khaki trousers, and leather loafers. His sandy hair, which used to be so unruly, was now clipped short. He looked like an evil male model, showing off what the fashionable college-age villain was wearing to Harvard this year.

He still had the scar under his eye—a jagged white line from his battle with a dragon. Naomi felt a tiny spark of pride at the sight of a new scar on his palm where she'd cut him last summer after he'd tried to kidnap her.

Propped up against the sofa was his magical sword, Backbiter, glinting strangely with its half-steel, half-celestial bronze blade that could kill both mortals and monsters.

"Sit," he told them. He waved his hand and four dining chairs scooted themselves into the center of the room.

None of them sat.

Luke's big friends were still pointing their javelins at Naomi and her companions. They looked like twins, but they weren't human. They stood about eight feet tall, for one thing, and wore only blue jeans, probably because their enormous chests were already shag-carpeted with thick brown fur. They had claws for fingernails, feet like paws. Their noses were snout-like, and their teeth were all pointed canines.

"Where are my manners?" Luke said smoothly. "These are my assistants, Agrius and Oreius. Perhaps you've heard of them."

When no one spoke, Luke asked, "You don't know Agrius and Oreius's story? Their mother... well, it's sad, really. Aphrodite ordered the young woman to fall in love. She refused and ran to Artemis for help. Artemis let her become one of her maiden huntresses, but Aphrodite got her revenge. She bewitched the young woman into falling in love with a bear. When Artemis found out, she abandoned the girl in disgust. Typical of the gods, wouldn't you say? They fight with one another and the poor humans get caught in the middle. The girl's twin sons here, Agrius and Oreius, have no love for Olympus. They like half-bloods well enough, though..."

"For lunch," Agrius growled. His gruff voice was the one they'd heard talking with Luke earlier.

"Hehe! Hehe!" His brother Oreius laughed, licking his fur-lined lips. He kept laughing like he was having an asthmatic fit until Luke and Agrius both stared at him.

"Shut up, you idiot!" Agrius growled. "Go punish yourself!"

Oreius whimpered. He trudged over to the corner of the room, slumped onto a stool, and banged his forehead against the dining table, making the silver plates rattle.

Luke acted like this was perfectly normal behavior. He made himself comfortable on the sofa and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Well, Percy, we let you survive another year. I hope you appreciated it. How's your mom? How's school?"

Percy glared at him.

Luke rolled his eyes. "What about you, Naomi? Cabin Four treating you well?"

"Go to Hades," Naomi told him.

"Want me to give a message to your stepdad while I'm there?"

There were a few words on the tip of Naomi's tongue, and she was pretty sure all of them would have made the nuns at St. Monica's wash her mouth out with heavy duty soap.

"You poisoned Thalia's tree," Percy said, still glaring at Luke.

Luke sighed. "Right to the point, eh? Okay, sure I poisoned the tree. So what?"

"How could you?" Annabeth sounded so angry Naomi thought she'd explode. "Thalia saved your life! Our lives! How could you dishonor her—"

"I didn't dishonor her!" Luke snapped. "The gods dishonored her, Annabeth! If Thalia were alive, she'd be on my side."

"Liar!"

"If you knew what was coming, you'd understand—"

"I understand you want to destroy camp!" she yelled. "You're a monster!"

Luke shook his head. "The gods have blinded you. Can't you imagine a world without them, Annabeth? What good is that ancient history you study? Three thousand years of baggage! The West is rotten to the core. It has to be destroyed. Join me! We can start the world anew. We could use your intelligence, Annabeth."

"Because you have none of your own!"

His eyes narrowed. "I know you, Annabeth. You deserve better than tagging along on some hopeless quest to save the camp. Half-Blood Hill will be overrun by monsters within the month. The heroes who survive will have no choice but to join us or be hunted to extinction. You really want to be on a losing team... with company like this?" Luke pointed at Tyson.

"Hey!" Percy protested.

"Traveling with a Cyclops," Luke chided. "Talk about dishonoring Thalia's memory! I'm surprised at you, Annabeth. You of all people—"

"Stop it!" she shouted.

Naomi wasn't sure what Luke was talking about, but Annabeth buried her head in her hands like she was about to cry.

"Leave her alone," Percy said. "And leave Tyson out of this."

Luke laughed. "Oh, yeah, I heard. Your father claimed him."

When he noticed Percy's surprise, Luke smiled. "Yes, Percy, I know all about that. And about your plan to find the Fleece. What were those coordinates again... thirty, thirty-one, seventy-five, twelve? You see, I still have friends at camp who keep me posted."

"Spies, you mean."

Luke shrugged. "How many insults from your father can you stand, Percy? You think he's grateful to you? You think Poseidon cares for you any more than he cares for this monster?"

Tyson clenched his fists and made a rumbling sound down in his throat.

Luke just chuckled. "The gods are so using you, Percy. You and Naomi. Do either of you have any idea what's in store for you if you reach your seventeenth birthday, Percy? Has Chiron even told you the prophecy?"

Luke knew just how to throw Percy off-kilter. He was stunned into silence for a moment.

"I know what I need to know," he finally managed. "Like who my enemies are."

"Then you're a fool."

Tyson smashed the nearest dining chair into splinters. "Percy is not a fool!"

Before anyone could stop him, he charged Luke. His fists came down toward Luke's head—a double overhead blow that would've knocked a hole in titanium—but the bear twins intercepted. They each caught Tyson's arms and stopped him cold. They pushed him back and Tyson stumbled. He fell to the carpet so hard the deck shook.

"Too bad, Cyclops," Luke said. "Looks like my grizzly friends together are more than a match for your strength. Maybe I should let them—"

"Luke," Percy cut in. "Listen to me. Your father sent us."

Luke's face turned red. "Don't—even—mention him."

"He told us to take this boat," Percy continued. "I thought it was just for a ride, but he sent us here to find you. He told me he won't give up on you, no matter how angry you are."

"Angry?" Luke roared. "Give up on me? He abandoned me, Percy! I want Olympus destroyed! Every throne crushed to rubble! You tell Hermes it's going to happen, too. Each time a half-blood joins us, the Olympians grow weaker and we grow stronger. He grows stronger." Luke pointed to the gold sarcophagus.

"So?" Percy demanded. "What's so special...?"

It seemed to hit them all in the same moment, what might be inside the sarcophagus. The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.

"Whoa, you don't mean—"

"He is re-forming," Luke said. "Little by little, we're calling his life force out of the pit. With every recruit who pledges our cause, another small piece appears—"

"That's disgusting!" Annabeth said.

Luke sneered at her. "Your mother was born from Zeus's split skull, Annabeth. I wouldn't talk. Soon there will be enough of the titan lord so that we can make him whole again. We will piece together a new body for him, a work worthy of the forges of Hephaestus."

"You're crazy," Naomi said.

"Join us and you'll be rewarded. We have powerful friends, sponsors rich enough to buy this cruise ship and much more. Naomi, you'll never be an outsider again—you'll have all the glory you could ask for as Kronos's champion. Percy, your mother will never have to work again. You can buy her a mansion. You can have power, fame—whatever you want. Annabeth, you can realize your dream of being an architect. You can build a monument to last a thousand years. A temple to the lords of the next age!"

"Go to Tartarus," Annabeth snarled.

Luke sighed. "A shame."

He picked up something that looked like a TV remote and pressed a red button. Within seconds the door of the stateroom opened and two uniformed crew members came in, armed with nightsticks. They had the same glassy-eyed look as the other mortals on the ship, but Naomi had a feeling that wouldn't make them any less dangerous in a fight.

"Ah, good, security," Luke said. "I'm afraid we have some stowaways."

"Yes, sir," they said dreamily.

Luke turned to Oreius. "It's time to feed the Aethiopian drakon. Take these fools below and show them how it's done."

Oreius grinned stupidly. "Hehe! Hehe!"

"Let me go, too," Agrius grumbled. "My brother is worthless. That Cyclops—"

"Is no threat," Luke said. He glanced back at the golden casket, as if something were troubling him. "Agrius, stay here. We have important matters to discuss."

"But—"

"Oreius, don't fail me. Stay in the hold to make sure the drakon is properly fed."

Oreius prodded the four questers with his javelin and herded them out of the stateroom, followed by the two human security guards.

They exited the hallway amidships and walked across an open deck lined with lifeboats.

Percy looked at Tyson. "Now."

Thank the gods, he understood what Percy meant. He turned and smacked Oreius thirty feet backward into the swimming pool, right into the middle of the zombie tourist family.

"Ah!" the kids yelled in unison. "We are not having a blast in the pool!"

One of the security guards drew his nightstick, but Annabeth knocked the wind out of him with a well-placed kick. The other guard ran for the nearest alarm box.

"Stop him!" Annabeth yelled, but it was too late.

Just before Percy banged the guard on the head with a deckchair, he hit the alarm.

Red lights flashed. Sirens wailed.

"Lifeboat!" Percy yelled.

They ran for the nearest one.

By the time they got the cover off, monsters and more security guards were swarming the deck, pushing aside tourists and waiters with trays of tropical drinks. A guy in Greek armor drew his sword and charged, but slipped in a puddle of piña colada. Giant archers assembled on the deck above them, notching arrows in enormous bows.

"How do you launch this thing?" Annabeth screamed.

A hellhound crouched, prepared to pounce, but Naomi shouted, "Get back! Bad dog!"

The beast seemed to have no choice but to whimper like a scolded puppy and back away.

"Get in!" Percy yelled. He uncapped his sword and slashed the first volley of arrows out of the air.

Any second they'd be overwhelmed.

The lifeboat was hanging over the side of the ship, high above the water. Annabeth and Tyson were having no luck with the release pulley.

Naomi and Percy jumped in with them.

"Hold on!" Percy yelled, and he cut the ropes.

A shower of arrows whistled over their heads.

"Flask!" Percy screamed as they hurtled toward the water.

"What?" Annabeth was holding onto the boat straps for dear life, her hair flying straight up like a torch.

But Tyson seemed to understand. He managed to open Percy's duffel bag and take out the flask Hermes had given him without losing his grip on it or the boat.

More deadly projectiles whistled past.

Percy grabbed the flask. "Hang on!"

"We are hanging on!" Naomi shouted.

"Tighter!"

Tyson grabbed Annabeth and Percy by the backs of their shirts, Annabeth grabbing Naomi around the waist. Percy opened the flask just a little.

Instantly, a white sheet of wind jetted out of the flask and propelled them sideways, turning their downward plummet into a forty-five-degree crash landing.

The wind seemed to laugh as it shot from the flask, like it was glad to be free. As they hit the ocean, they bumped once, twice, skipping like a stone, then they were whizzing along like a speed boat, salt spray in their faces and nothing but sea ahead.

There was a wail of outrage from the ship behind them, but they were already out of weapon range. The Princess Andromeda faded to the size of a white toy boat in the distance, then it was gone.

Chapter 33: vii. percy opens up a new chain-store on accident

Chapter Text

AS THEY RACED OVER THE SEA, they tried to send an Iris-message to Chiron. They figured it was important to let somebody know what Luke was doing, and they weren't sure who else to trust.

The wind from the flask stirred up a nice sea spray that made a rainbow in the sunlight—perfect for an Iris-message—but their connection was still poor. When Annabeth threw a gold drachma into the mist and prayed for the rainbow goddess to show them Chiron, his face appeared all right, but there was some kind of weird strobe light flashing in the background and rock music blaring, like he was in a nightclub.

They told him about sneaking away from camp, and Luke and the Princess Andromeda and the golden box for Kronos's remains, but between the noise on his end and the rushing wind and water on their end, Naomi wasn't sure how much he heard.

"Percy," Chiron yelled, "you have to watch out for—"

His voice was drowned out by loud shouting behind him—a bunch of voices whooping.

"What?" Percy yelled.

"Curse my relatives!" Chiron ducked as a plate flew over his head and shattered somewhere out of sight. "Annabeth, you shouldn't have let Percy and Naomi leave camp! But if you do get the Fleece—"

"Yeah, baby!" somebody behind Chiron yelled. "Woo-hoooooo!"

The music got cranked up, subwoofers so loud it made their lifeboat vibrate.

"—Miami," Chiron was yelling. "I'll try to keep watch—"

Their misty screen smashed apart like someone on the other side had thrown a bottle at it, and Chiron was gone.

An hour later they spotted land—a long stretch of beach lined with high-rise hotels. The water became crowded with fishing boats and tankers. A coastguard cruiser passed on their starboard side, then turned like it wanted a second look. Maybe it wasn't every day they saw a yellow lifeboat with no engine going a hundred knots an hour, manned by four kids.

"That's Virginia Beach!" Annabeth said as they approached the shoreline. "Oh my gods, how did the Princess Andromeda travel so far overnight? That's like—"

"Five hundred and thirty nautical miles," Percy said.

Annabeth stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"I—I'm not sure."

Annabeth thought for a moment. "Percy, what's our position?"

"Thirty-six degrees, forty-four minutes north, seventy-six degrees, two minutes west," he said immediately. Then he shook his head. "Whoa. How did I know that?"

"Because of your dad," Annabeth guessed. "When you're at sea, you have perfect bearings. That is so cool."

Tyson tapped Percy's shoulder. "Other boat is coming."

Naomi looked back. The coastguard vessel was definitely on their tail now. Its lights were flashing and it was gaining speed.

"We can't let them catch us," Percy said. "They'll ask too many questions."

"Keep going into Chesapeake Bay," Annabeth said. "I know a place we can hide."

Percy loosened the flask cap a little more, and a fresh burst of wind sent them rocketing around the northern tip of Virginia Beach into Chesapeake Bay. The coastguard boat fell further and further behind. Their little lifeboat didn't slow down until the shores of the bay narrowed on either side. They'd entered the mouth of a river.

Annabeth had to take over directing—apparently the switch from saltwater to freshwater left Percy disoriented.

"There," she said. "Past that sandbar."

They veered into a swampy area choked with marsh grass. Percy beached the lifeboat at the foot of a giant cypress.

Vine-covered trees loomed above them. Insects chirred in the woods. The air was muggy and hot, and steam curled off the river.

"Come on," Annabeth said. "It's just down the bank."

"What is?" Naomi asked.

"Just follow me." She grabbed a duffel bag. "And we'd better cover the boat. We don't want to draw attention.

After burying the lifeboat with branches, Tyson, Percy, and Naomi followed Annabeth along the shore, their feet sinking in red mud. A snake slithered past and disappeared into the grass.

"Not a good place," Tyson said. He swatted the mosquitoes that were forming a buffet queue on his arm.

After another few minutes, Annabeth said, "Here."

All Naomi saw was a patch of brambles. Then Annabeth moved aside a woven circle of branches, like a door, and Naomi realized she was looking into a camouflaged shelter.

The inside was big enough for four, even with Tyson being the fourth. The walls were woven from plant material, but it looked pretty waterproof. Stacked in the corner was everything you could want for a campout—sleeping bags, blankets, an ice chest, and a kerosene lamp. There were demigod provisions, too—bronze javelin tips, a quiver full of arrows, an extra sword, and a box of ambrosia. The place smelled musty, like it had been vacant for a long time.

"A half-blood hideout." Percy looked at Annabeth in awe. "You made this place?"

"Thalia and I," she said quietly. "And Luke."

"So..." Percy said after a moment. "You don't think Luke will look for us here?"

Annabeth shook her head. "We made a dozen safe houses like this. I doubt Luke even remembers where they are. Or cares."

She threw herself down on the blankets and started going through her duffel bag. Her body language made it clear she didn't want to talk.

"Um, Tyson?" Percy asked. "Would you mind scouting around outside? Like, look for a wilderness convenience store or something?"

"Convenience store?"

"Yeah, for snacks. Powdered donuts or something. Just don't go too far."

"Powdered donuts," Tyson said earnestly. "I will look for powdered donuts in the wilderness." He headed outside and started calling, "Here, donuts!"

Once he was gone, Percy turned to Annabeth. "Hey, I'm sorry about, you know, seeing Luke."

"It's not your fault." She unsheathed her knife and started cleaning the spotless blade with a rag.

"He let us go too easily," Percy said.

Annabeth nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. What we overheard him say about a gamble, and 'they'll take the bait'... I think he was talking about us."

"The Fleece is the bait?" Naomi asked. "Or did he mean Grover?

Annabeth studied the edge of her knife. "I don't know. Maybe he wants the Fleece for himself. Maybe he's hoping we'll do all the hard work and then he can steal it from us. I just can't believe he would poison the tree."

"What did he mean," Percy asked, "that Thalia would've been on his side?"

"He's wrong."

"You don't sound so sure."

Annabeth glared at him, and Naomi wondered why he thought saying that while she was holding a knife was a good idea.

"Percy, you know who you remind me of most? Thalia. You guys are so alike it's scary. I mean, either you would've been best friends or you would've strangled each other."

"Let's go with 'best friends.'"

"Thalia got angry with her dad sometimes," Annabeth said. "So do you. Would you turn against Olympus because of that?"

Percy stared at the quiver of arrows in the corner. "No."

"Okay, then. Neither would she. Luke's wrong." Annabeth stuck her knife blade into the dirt.

Percy was quiet for a minute. Then, he asked, "So what did Luke mean about Cyclopes? He said you of all people—"

"I know what he said. He... he was talking about the real reason Thalia died."

Naomi was silent as she waited, unsure what to say.

Annabeth drew a shaky breath. "You can never trust a Cyclops. Six years ago, on the night Grover was leading us to Half-Blood Hill—"

She was interrupted when the door of the hut creaked open. Tyson crawled in.

"Powdered donuts!" he said proudly, holding up a pastry box.

Annabeth stared at him. "Where did you get that? We're in the middle of the wilderness. There's nothing around for—"

"Fifty feet," Tyson said. "Monster Donut shop—just over the hill!"

"This is bad," Annabeth muttered.

They were crouched behind a tree, staring at the donut shop in the middle of the woods. It looked brand new, with brightly lit windows, a parking area and a little road leading off into the forest, but there was nothing else around, and no cars parked in the lot. They could see one employee reading a magazine behind the cash register. That was it. On the store's awning, in huge black letters that even Naomi could read, it said: MONSTER DONUT.

A cartoon ogre was taking a bite out of the O in MONSTER. The place smelled good, like fresh-baked chocolate donuts.

"This shouldn't be here," Annabeth whispered. "It's wrong."

"What?" Percy asked. "It's a donut shop."

"Shhh!"

"Why are we whispering? Tyson went in and bought a dozen. Nothing happened to him."

"He's a monster."

"Aw, c'mon, Annabeth. Monster Donut doesn't mean monsters! It's a chain. We've got them in New York."

"A chain," she agreed. "And don't you think it's strange that one appeared immediately after you told Tyson to get donuts? Right here in the middle of the woods?"

Naomi frowned. It was weird, but how dangerous could a donut shop be?

"It could be a nest," Annabeth explained.

Tyson whimpered. Even if he didn't understand what Annabeth was getting at, her tone was making him nervous. He'd plowed through half a dozen donuts from his box and was getting powdered sugar all over his face.

"A nest for what?" Percy asked.

"Haven't you ever wondered how franchise stores pop up so fast?" Annabeth asked. "One day there's nothing and then the next day—boom, there's a new burger place or a coffee shop or whatever? First a single store, then two, then four—exact replicas spreading across the country?"

"Um, no. Never thought about it."

"Percy, some of the chains multiply so fast because all their locations are magically linked to the life force of a monster. Some children of Hermes figured out how to do it back in the 1950s. They breed—"

She froze.

"What?" Percy demanded. "They breed what?"

"No—sudden—moves," Annabeth said, like her life depended on it. "Very slowly, turn around."

Then Naomi heard it: a scraping noise, like something large dragging its belly through the leaves.

She turned and saw a giant thing moving through the shadows of the trees. It was hissing, its front half writhing in all different directions. It took a second, but Naomi realized that the thing had multiple necks—at least seven, each topped with a hissing reptilian head. Its skin was leathery, and under each neck it wore a plastic bib that read: I'M A MONSTER DONUT KID!

Percy took his pen out, but Annabeth gave him a look: Not yet.

Naomi held her breath. A lot of monsters have terrible eyesight. It was possible the Hydra would pass right by without noticing them. But if Percy uncapped his sword now, the bronze glow would certainly get its attention.

They waited.

The Hydra was only a meter or so away. It seemed to be sniffing the ground and the trees like it was hunting for something. Then Naomi noticed that two of the heads were ripping apart a piece of yellow canvas—one of their duffel bags. The thing had already been to their campsite. It was following their scent.

Taking in a deep, silent breath, Naomi concentrated on the grass around the Hydra. An assortment of wildflowers cropped up around its reptilian feet. Magnolias, honeysuckle, gardenias, lavenders—the most fragrant flowers she could think of.

The Hydra stopped, several of its heads hissing in annoyance as the varying floral scents distracted them from the demigods they were hunting. Naomi hoped they were enough to confuse the Hydra into giving up, or passing them by. She did not want to get into a fight with that thing—those shark-like teeth would probably be making an appearance in her nightmares after this.

For a moment, nothing happened. The Hydra ripped up a mouthful of flowers out of the ground, but the fragrance was still heavy in the air.

Then Tyson accidentally stepped on a twig.

Immediately, all seven heads turned toward them and hissed.

"Scatter!" Annabeth yelled. She dove to the right.

Naomi dove out of the way, landing a few feet from Annabeth as Percy rolled to the left. She let out a startled yelp as one of the Hydra heads spat an arc of green liquid. It splashed against an elm, the trunk immediately starting to smoke and disintegrate. The whole tree toppled straight toward Tyson, who still hadn't moved, petrified by the monster that was now in front of him.

"Tyson!" Percy tackled him out of the way just as the Hydra lunged and the tree crashed on top of two of its heads.

The Hydra stumbled backward, yanking its heads free and wailing in outrage at the fallen tree. All seven heads shot acid, and the elm melted into a steaming pool of muck.

"Move!" Percy told Tyson. He ran to one side and uncapped Riptide to draw the monster's attention.

As soon as the celestial bronze blade appeared, the Hydra whipped toward it with all its heads, hissing and baring its teeth.

The good news: Tyson was momentarily out of danger. The bad news: Percy was about to be melted into a puddle of goo.

One of the heads snapped at him experimentally. Percy swung his sword.

"No!" Annabeth yelled.

Too late. Percy sliced the Hydra's head clean off. It rolled away into the grass, leaving a flailing stump, which immediately stopped bleeding and began to swell like a balloon.

In a matter of seconds the wounded neck split into two necks, each of which grew a full-size head.

"Percy!" Annabeth scolded. "You just opened another Monster Donut shop somewhere!"

Percy dodged a spray of acid. "I'm about to die and you're worried about that? How do we kill it?"

"Fire!" Annabeth said. "We have to have fire!"

"Where are we supposed to get fire in the middle of the woods?" Naomi shouted.

"I don't know!"

Percy backed up toward the river, and the Hydra followed.

Naomi summoned Hemlock, trying to distract some of the heads. She tried to only hit it with the flat of her blade, which probably would have been more effective if her upper body strength wasn't kind of pathetic. All she managed to do was annoy the head.

Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi saw Annabeth get knocked into the muck by one of the heads.

"No hitting my friends!" Tyson charged in, putting himself between the Hydra and Annabeth. As Annabeth got to her feet, Tyson started smashing monster heads with his fists. He was fast, but even Tyson couldn't fend off the Hydra forever.

They kept inching backward, dodging acid splashes and deflecting snapping heads without cutting them off, but they were only putting off their inevitable and gruesome deaths. Eventually, they would make a mistake and the thing would kill them.

Then Naomi heard a strange sound—a chug-chug-chug like an old train. It was so powerful it made the riverbank shake."

"What is that?" Naomi shouted.

"Steam engine," Tyson said.

"What?" Percy ducked as the Hydra spat acid over his head.

Then from the river behind them, a familiar female voice shouted, "There! Prepare the thirty-two-pounder!"

A gravelly male voice said, "They're too close, m'lady!"

"Damn the heroes!" the girl said. "Full steam ahead!"

"Aye, m'lady."

"Fire at will, Captain!"

Annabeth understood what was happening a split second before anyone else. She yelled, "Hit the dirt!" and they all dove for the ground as an earth-shattering BOOM echoed from the river. There was a flash of light, a column of smoke, and the Hydra exploded right in front of them, showering them with nasty green slime that vaporized as soon as it hit, the way monster guts usually do.

"Gross!" Annabeth screamed.

"Steamship!" Tyson yelled.

Naomi struggled to her feet, coughing the gunpowder smoke out of her poor lungs.

Chugging toward them down the river was the strangest—and oldest—ship Naomi had ever seen. It rode low in the water, its deck plated with iron. In the middle was a trapezoid-shaped casemate with slats on each side for cannons. A flag waved from the top—a wild boar and spear on a blood-red field. Lining the deck were zombies in grey uniforms—dead soldiers with shimmering faces that only partially covered their skulls, like the ghouls that had guarded Hades's palace in the Underworld.

Naomi could just make out the name along the prow in moss-covered letters: CSS Birmingham.

And standing next to the smoking cannon that had almost killed them, wearing full Greek battle armor, was Clarisse.

"Losers," she sneered. "But I suppose I have to rescue you. Come aboard."

Chapter 34: viii. clarisse gets territorial

Chapter Text

"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE," Clarisse said.

They'd just finished a ship tour they didn't want, through dark rooms overcrowded with dead sailors. They'd seen the coal bunker, the boilers and engine, which huffed and groaned like it would explode any minute. They'd seen the pilot house and the powder magazine and gunnery deck (Clarisse's favorite, obviously) with two Dahlgren smoothbore cannons on the port and starboard sides and a Brooke nine-inch rifled gun fore and aft—all specially refitted to fire celestial bronze cannonballs.

Everywhere they went, dead Confederate sailors stared at them, their ghostly bearded faces shimmering over their skulls. They approved of Annabeth because she told them she was from Virginia. They were relatively interested in Percy, since his last name was Jackson—like the Southern general—but then he ruined it by telling them he was from New York. They all hissed and muttered curses about Yankees.

They also kept nodding at Naomi respectfully, which was freaky. Annabeth explained that it was probably because her mother was the queen of the dead, which made her like the gesture even less than Clarisse did.

Tyson was terrified of them. Naomi felt bad and offered to hold his hand throughout the tour, which he did the entire time. She was sure they were a funny sight—a girl who was barely five feet tall trying to comfort a boy almost two feet taller than her.

Finally, the group was escorted to dinner. The CSS Birmingham captain's quarters were about the size of a walk-in closet, but still much bigger than any other room on board. The table was set with white linen and china. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, potato chips, and Dr. Peppers were served by a skeletal crewman.

"Tantalus expelled you for eternity," Clarisse told them smugly. "Mr. D said if any of you show your face at camp again, he'll turn you into squirrels and run you over with his SUV."

"Did they give you this ship?" Percy asked.

"'Course not. My father did."

"Ares?"

Clarisse sneered. "You think your daddy is the only one with sea power? The spirits on the losing side of every war owe a tribute to Ares. That's their curse for being defeated. I prayed to my father for a naval transport and here it is. These guys will do anything I tell them. Won't you, Captain?"

The captain stood behind her looking stiff and angry. "If it means an end to this infernal war, ma'am, peace at last, we'll do anything. Destroy anyone."

Clarisse smiled. "Destroy anyone. I like that."

Tyson gulped.

"Clarisse," Annabeth said, "Luke might be after the Fleece, too. We saw him. He's got the coordinates and he's heading south. He has a cruise ship full of monsters—"

"Good! I'll blow him out of the water."

"You don't understand," Annabeth said. "We have to combine forces. Let us help you—"

"No!" Clarisse pounded the table. "This is my quest, smart girl! Finally I get to be the hero, and you three will not steal my chance."

"Where are your cabin mates?" Percy asked. "You were allowed to take three friends with you, weren't you?"

"They didn't... I let them stay behind. To protect the camp."

"You mean even the people in your own cabin wouldn't help you?"

"Shut up, Prissy! I don't need them! Or you!"

"Clarisse," Percy said, "Tantalus is using you. He doesn't care about the camp. He'd love to see it destroyed. He's setting you up to fail."

"No! I don't care what the Oracle—" She stopped herself.

"What?" Percy said. "What did the Oracle tell you?"

"Nothing." Clarisse's ears turned pink. "All you need to know is that I'm finishing this quest and you're not helping. On the other hand, I can't let you go..."

"So you're going to hold us prisoner?" Naomi asked.

"Guests. For now." Clarisse propped her feet up on the white linen tablecloth and opened another Dr. Pepper. "Captain, take them below. Assign them hammocks on the berth deck. If they don't mind their manners, show them how we deal with enemy spies."

Naomi barely felt like she'd gotten any sleep when she woke to alarm bells ringing throughout the ship.

There was a flurry of activity in and around the berth, and Naomi rushed to get dressed. When she reached the spar deck, Annabeth and Tyson were already there.

"What's going on?" Naomi asked, accepting the hair tie Annabeth offered with a grateful smile. She gathered her hair and tied it up, the orchid behind her ear not budging at all.

"We're almost in the Sea of Monsters," Annabeth told her.

Naomi felt a shot of apprehension course through her. "Awesome."

Percy joined them after a few minutes. As soon as she saw his face, Annabeth asked, "What's wrong? Another dream?"

Percy nodded, but he didn't say anything more.

Clarisse came up the stairs right after him. She grabbed a pair of binoculars from a zombie officer and peered toward the horizon. "At last. Captain, full steam ahead!"

Naomi tried to look where Clarisse was looking, but she couldn't see much. The sky was overcast, the air hazy and humid. If she squinted, she could just make out a couple of dark fuzzy splotches in the distance.

The engine groaned as they increased speed.

Tyson muttered nervously, "Too much strain on the pistons. Not meant for deep water."

Naomi wasn't sure how he knew that, but it made her nervous.

After a few more minutes, the dark splotches ahead of them came into focus. To the north, a huge mass of rock rose out of the sea—an island with cliffs at least a hundred feet tall. About half a mile south of that, the other patch of darkness was a storm brewing. The sky and sea boiled together in a roaring mass.

"Hurricane?" Annabeth asked.

"No," Clarisse said. "Charybdis."

Annabeth paled. "Are you crazy?"

"Only way into the Sea of Monsters. Straight between Charybdis and her sister Scylla." Clarisse pointed to the top of the cliffs, and Naomi got the feeling there was something up there that she did not want to meet.

"What do you mean the only way?" Percy asked. "The sea is wide open! Just sail around them."

Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Don't you know anything? If I tried to sail around them, they would just appear in my path again. If you want to get into the Sea of Monsters, you have to sail through them."

"What about the Clashing Rocks?" Annabeth said. "That's another gateway. Jason used it."

"I can't blow apart rocks with my cannons," Clarisse said. "Monsters, on the other hand..."

"You are crazy," Annabeth decided.

"Watch and learn, Wise Girl." Clarisse turned to the captain. "Set course for Charybdis!"

"Aye, m'lady."

The engine groaned, the iron plating rattled, and the ship began to pick up speed.

"Clarisse," Percy said, "Charybdis sucks up the sea. Isn't that the story?"

"And spits it back out again, yeah."

"What about Scylla?"

"She lives in a cave, up on those cliffs. If we get too close, her snaky heads will come down and start plucking sailors off the ship."

"Choose Scylla then," Percy said. "Everybody goes below deck and we chug right past."

"No!" Clarisse insisted. "If Scylla doesn't get her easy meat, she might pick up the whole ship. Besides, she's too high to make a good target. My cannons can't shoot straight up. Charybdis just sits there at the center of her whirlwind. We're going to steam straight toward her, train our guns on her, and blow her to Tartarus!"

She said it with such relish Naomi almost believed her.

The engine hummed. The boilers were heating up so much Naomi could feel the deck getting warm beneath her feet. The smokestacks billowed. The red Ares flag whipped in the wind.

As they got closer to the monsters, the sound of Charybdis got louder and louder—a horrible wet roar like the galaxy's biggest toilet being flushed. Every time Charybdis inhaled, the ship shuddered and lurched forward. Every time she exhaled, they rose in the water and were buffeted by ten-foot waves.

Undead soldiers calmly went about their business on the spar deck. Maybe they were used to fighting a losing cause, or maybe they didn't care about getting destroyed because they were already deceased. Neither thought made Naomi feel any better.

Annabeth gripped the rail and looked at Percy. "You still have your Flask full of wind?"

Percy nodded. "But it's too dangerous to use with a whirlpool like that. More wind might just make things worse."

"What about controlling the water?" she asked. "You're Poseidon's son. You've done it before."

Percy closed his eyes, his brow pinched in concentration, but nothing happened.

"I—I can't," he said miserably.

"We need a backup plan," Annabeth said. "This isn't going to work."

"Annabeth is right," Tyson said. "Engine's no good."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Pressure. Pistons need fixing."

Before he could explain, the whirlpool sucked them in with a mighty roaaar! The ship lurched forward and they were thrown to the deck.

"Full reverse!" Clarisse screamed above the noise. The sea churned around them, waves crashing over the deck. The iron plating was now so hot it steamed. "Get us within firing range! Make ready starboard cannons!"

Dead Confederates rushed back and forth. The propeller grinded into reverse, trying to slow the ship, but we kept sliding toward the center of the vortex.

A zombie sailor burst out of the hold and ran to Clarisse. His gray uniform was smoking. His beard was on fire. "Boiler room overheating, ma'am! She's going to blow!"

"Well, get down there and fix it!"

"Can't!" the sailor yelled. "We're vaporizing in the heat."

Clarisse pounded the side of the casemate. "All I need is a few more minutes! Just enough to get in range!"

"We're going in too fast," the captain said grimly. "Prepare yourself for death."

"No!" Tyson bellowed. "I can fix it."

Clarisse looked at him incredulously. "You?"

"He's a Cyclops," Annabeth said. "He's immune to fire. And he knows mechanics."

"Go!" yelled Clarisse.

"Tyson, no!" Percy grabbed his arm. "It's too dangerous!"

Tyson patted his hand. "Only way, brother." His expression was determined—confident, even. "I will fix it. Be right back."

He followed the smoldering sailor down the hatch.

The ship lurched again—and then Naomi saw Charybdis.

She appeared only a few hundred yards away, through a swirl of mist and smoke and water. The first thing Naomi noticed was the reef—a black crag of coral with a fig tree clinging to the top, an oddly peaceful thing in the middle of a maelstrom. All around it, water curved into a funnel, like light around a black hole.

Then she saw the horrible thing anchored to the reef just below the waterline—an enormous mouth with slimy lips and mossy teeth the size of rowboats. And worse, the teeth had braces, bands of corroded scummy metal with pieces of fish and driftwood and floating garbage stuck between them.

"Lady Clarisse," the captain shouted. "Starboard and forward guns are in range!"

"Fire!" Clarisse ordered.

Three rounds were blasted into the monster's maw. One blew off the edge of an incisor. Another disappeared into her gullet. The third hit one of Charybdis's retaining bands and shot back at them, snapping the Ares flag off its pole.

"Again!" Clarisse ordered. The gunners reloaded, but it was hopeless. They would have to pound the monster a hundred more times to do any real damage, and they didn't have that long. They were being sucked in too fast.

Then the vibrations in the deck changed. The hum of the engine got stronger and steadier. The ship shuddered and they started pulling away from the mouth.

"Tyson did it!" Annabeth said.

"Wait!" Clarisse said. "We need to stay close!"

"We'll die!" Percy said. "We have to move away."

Naomi gripped the rail with white knuckles as the ship fought against the suction. The broken Ares flag raced past them and lodged in Charybdis's braces. They weren't making much progress, but at least they were holding their own. Tyson had somehow given them just enough justice to keep the ship from being sucked in.

Suddenly, the mouth snapped shut. The sea died to absolute calm. Water washed over Charybdis.

Then, just as quickly as it had closed, the mouth exploded open, spitting out a wall of water, ejecting everything inedible—including their cannonballs. One of them slammed into the side of the ship with a ding like the bell on a carnival game.

They were thrown backward on a wave that must've been forty feet high. They were spinning out of control, hurtling toward the cliffs on the opposite side of the strait.

Another smoldering sailor burst out of the hold. He stumbled into Clarisse, almost knocking them both overboard. "The engine is about to blow!"

"Where's Tyson?" Percy demanded.

"Still down there," the sailor said. "Holding it together somehow, though I don't know for how much longer."

The captain said, "We have to abandon ship."

"No!" Clarisse yelled.

"We have no choice, m'lady. The hull is already cracking apart! She can't—"

He never finished his sentence. Quick as lightning, something brown and green shot from the sky, snatched up the captain, and lifted him away. All that was left were his leather boots.

"Scylla!" a sailor yelled, as another column of reptilian flesh shot from the cliffs and snapped him up. It happened so fast it was like watching a laser beam rather than a monster. Naomi couldn't even make out the thing's face, just a flash of teeth and scales.

Naomi summoned Hemlock, but there was no way she could move fast enough to hit the monster.

"Everyone get below!" she yelled.

"We can't!" Clarisse drew her own sword. "Below deck is in flames."

"Lifeboats!" Annabeth said. "Quick!"

"They'll never get clear of the cliffs," Clarisse said. "We'll all be eaten."

"We have to try. Percy, the thermos."

"I can't leave Tyson!"

"We have to get the boats ready!"

Clarisse and a few of her undead sailors uncovered one of the two emergency rowboats while Scylla's heads rained from the sky like a meteor shower with teeth, picking off Confederate sailors one after another.

"Get the other boat." Percy threw Annabeth the thermos. "I'll get Tyson."

"You can't!" she said. "The heat will kill you!"

Percy didn't listen. He ran for the boiler room hatch, but he barely made it halfway. Scylla had somehow caught him by the knapsack, and was lifting him up toward her lair.

"Percy!" Naomi screamed.

"Come on!" Annabeth yelled, grabbing Naomi's hand and half-dragging her to the lifeboats. They managed to jump into one and get it down to the sea, hitting the surface of the water with a splash.

Up above, Percy managed to swing his sword behind him and jab it in Scylla's eye. She grunted and dropped him.

As he fell, the CSS Birmingham exploded.

KAROOM!

The engine room blew, sending chunks of ironclad flying in either direction like a fiery set of wings.

The lifeboats had managed to get away from the ship, but not very far. Flaming wreckage was raining down.

Annabeth cursed furiously. "Hold on!" she shouted, and twisted the cap of the flask hard. White sheets of wind blasted in every direction.

Chaos ensued.

Chapter 35: ix. welcome to c.c.'s island

Chapter Text

THEY GOT AWAY BY THE SKIN OF THEIR TEETH.

Percy was knocked out; Clarisse had gotten thrown gods-knew-where; Tyson was...

Everything was a mess.

Naomi and Annabeth managed to salvage some supplies from the wreck—Hermes's (now empty) flask, an airtight bag of ambrosia, a couple of sailors' shirts and a bottle of Dr. Pepper. Naomi's seemingly indestructible flower hadn't sustained even a ripped petal—part of her was convinced it wasn't even a real flower and it was made of crazy-strong plastic, but it certainly smelled real.

Annabeth managed to stitch together a makeshift sail of gray uniform fabric. She tacked into the wind as they sailed, wisps of blonde hair escaping her ponytail and flying around her face in the sea breeze.

Naomi's hands wouldn't stop shaking. It was like the adrenaline from the attack had been transformed into pure anxiety. She kept going over it again and again in her head—plagued by the mistakes they'd made, the what-ifs that could have saved the ship, could have saved Tyson.

Naomi had never lost anyone. Sure, kids at St. Monica's came and went, but she knew they were just going to live somewhere else. In the fourteen years she'd been alive, she'd never had someone she knew die. Even the old nuns seemed immortal.

But now Tyson was gone.

It wasn't fair.

With the hand that wasn't manning the sail, Annabeth covered Naomi's, which was busy tapping absently against her thigh. "We're going to be okay."

Naomi's hand stilled under Annabeth's, but the blonde didn't pull away. "You can't know that."

"No," Annabeth conceded. "But I can hope."

Naomi knew Annabeth well enough to know she wasn't ordinarily an optimist, so she appreciated the sentiment.

"Get some rest," Annabeth told her. "Who knows how long we'll be at sea—I'll take first watch."

"Are you sure?" Naomi asked.

Annabeth nodded. "I'm sure."

Naomi tried to get as comfortable as she could, which wasn't easy on their little rowboat. She ended up curled up on the bench next to Annabeth, her head in her lap.

It didn't take long for sleep to come.

When Annabeth shook Naomi awake, they were approaching land—an island with a small mountain in the center, a dazzling collection of marble-white buildings, a beach dotted with palm trees.

The current pulled them in.

"Welcome!" said a lady with a clipboard.

She looked like a young flight attendant—blue business suit, perfect makeup, hair pulled back in a polished updo. She shook their hands as they stepped onto the dock. With the dazzling smile she gave them, you would've thought they were celebrities stepping off a yacht rather than a trio of grungy teenagers stepping off a little rowboat.

Then again, their rowboat wasn't the weirdest ship in port. Along with a bunch of pleasure yachts, there was a U.S. Navy submarine, several dugout canoes, and an old-fashioned three-masted sailing ship. There was a helipad with a "Channel Five Fort Lauderdale" helicopter on it, and a short runway with a Learjet and a propeller plane that looked like it belonged in a World War II history museum.

"Is this your first time with us?" the clipboard lady inquired.

"Umm..." Annabeth said uncertainly.

"First—time—at—spa," the lady wrote on her clipboard. "Let's see..."

She looked them up and down critically. "Mmm. Herbal wraps to start for the young ladies. And of course, a complete makeover for the young gentleman."

"A what?" Percy asked.

She was too busy jotting down notes to answer.

"Right!" she said with a breezy smile. "Well, I'm sure C.C. will want to speak with you personally before the luau. Come, please."

The three demigods looked at each other.

"I guess it couldn't hurt," Annabeth decided.

It probably could, but they followed the clipboard lady anyway.

The place was incredible. There was white marble and blue water everywhere. Terraces climbed up the side of the mountain, with swimming pools on every level, connected by water slides and waterfalls and underwater tubes you could swim through. Fountains spayed water into the air, forming impossible shapes, like flying eagles and galloping horses.

They passed all kinds of tame animals. A sea turtle napped in a stack of beach towels. A leopard stretched out asleep on a diving board. The resort guests—all young women, as far as Naomi could see—lounged in deckchairs, drinking fruit smoothies or reading magazines while face masks dried on their faces and manicurists in white uniforms did their nails.

As they headed up a staircase toward what looked like the main building, Naomi heard a woman singing. Her voice drifted through the air like a lullaby—it was an old language, but Naomi could understand what she was singing about. Moonlight in the olive groves, the colors of sunrise, the scent of lavender and jasmine on the wind. And magic. Something about magic.

They came into a big room where the whole front wall was windows. The back wall was covered in mirrors, so the room seemed to go on forever. There was a bunch of expensive-looking white furniture, and on a table in one corner was a large wire pet cage.

The lady who'd been singing sat at a loom the size of a big screen TV, her hands weaving colored thread back and forth with nimble, skilled fingers. The tapestry shimmered like it was three-dimensional—a waterfall scene so real Naomi could see the water moving and clouds drifting across a fabric sky.

Annabeth caught her breath. "It's beautiful."

The woman turned, and it was Naomi's turn to catch her breath. The woman was what Naomi imagined most of the goddesses on Olympus looked like—ethereal. Her long dark hair was braided with threads of gold; her eyes green and piercing, but soft, somehow. She wore a silky black dress with shapes that seemed to move in the fabric: animal shadows, black upon black, like deer running through a forest at night.

"You appreciate weaving, my dear?" the woman asked, her speaking voice just as enchanting as her singing voice.

"Oh, yes, ma'am!" Annabeth said. "My mother is—"

She stopped herself.

Their hostess just smiled. "You have good taste, my dear. I'm so glad you've come. My name is C.C."

The animals in the corner cage started squealing. They must've been guinea pigs, from the sounds of them.

They introduced themselves to C.C. She looked them over with calculating eyes.

"Oh dear," she sighed. "You do need my help."

"Ma'am?" Percy asked.

C.C. called to the lady in the business suit. "Hylla, take Annabeth and Naomi on a tour, will you? Show them what we have available. The clothing will need to change. And that hair, my goodness. We will do a full image consultation after I've spoken with this young gentleman."

"But..." Annabeth's voice sounded hurt. "What's wrong with my hair?"

C.C. smiled benevolently. "My dear, you are lovely. You both are, really! But you're not showing off yourselves or your talents at all. So much wasted potential!"

"Wasted?" Naomi asked with a frown.

"Well, surely you're not happy the way you are! My goodness, there's not a single person who is. But don't worry. We can improve anyone here at the spa. Hylla will show you what I mean. You, my dears, need to unlock your true selves!"

Annabeth's eyes glowed with longing. Naomi had never seen her so much at a loss for words.

Naomi frowned again. "But... what about Percy?"

"Oh, definitely," C.C. said, giving him a sad look. "Percy requires my personal attention. He needs much more work than you."

The guinea pigs squealed like they were hungry.

Annabeth looked from Naomi to Percy. "Well... I suppose..."

"Right this way, dears," Hylla said, and Naomi and Annabeth were led away into the waterfall-laced gardens of the spa.

Naomi spotted dozens of different species of tropical flower—amaryllis, hibiscus, birds of paradise, African violets. The island was bursting with vibrant colors. Naomi was sure that many flowers would make it difficult to smell any one kind by itself, but she could pick out all the different fragrances with ease. She wasn't sure if it was the flowers themselves or her parentage that she had to thank for that.

"You admire our gardens?"

Naomi blinked, returning her attention to their tour guide, who was looking at her expectantly. "Oh. Yes—they're beautiful."

"We have over a hundred different species of flowers on the island," Hylla informed her. "Even some that have gone extinct everywhere else in the world. C.C. takes great pride in their cultivation."

"Wow," Naomi murmured.

"Now, before I show you our incredible library, why don't we get you two cleaned up?" Hylla suggested.

Naomi touched her hair, wincing at the texture—Silena would have a fit if she saw the state of her.

"Okay," Annabeth said.

Hylla led them into a large hair salon, with a few other young women getting their hair trimmed or styled by attendants. She waved over two unoccupied women in white uniforms, both of them around the same age as Naomi and Annabeth.

"Reyna, Evangeline, this is Naomi and Annabeth, new arrivals to the spa," Hylla said. "They'll need a full treatment."

The girls nodded, and Hylla gave Annabeth and Naomi a smile. "You're in good hands, you two. I'll go and find some clothes for you to change into—I doubt you want to stay in those rags."

As Hylla walked briskly away, clipboard still in hand, one of the attendants—Reyna—guided Naomi to one of the salon chairs, Evangeline taking Annabeth to the other.

"Lean your head back," Reyna instructed gently. Naomi did, and Reyna began to comb through Naomi's messy hair.

"Saltwater isn't kind to hair, is it?" Reyna said lightly.

"Definitely not," Naomi answered.

"How long have you and your friend been at sea?"

"Um... about a day."

Reyna hummed. "I see. You'll need a hydrating face mask—and plenty of sunscreen. And this manuka honey hair mask should get your hair back to perfect condition."

She began to wet the ends of Naomi's hair with the nozzle, but when she went to take the orchid out of Naomi's hair, the stem wrapped tighter around Naomi's ear.

Naomi's face flushed with embarrassment. She wasn't sure how used to seeing a flower actively move in real-time the attendant could be. "Oh, uh—let me just..."

She carefully untangled the flower from her ear, hoping Reyna missed how it wrapped securely around her hand once it was pulled free.

Reyna wet the rest of Naomi's hair, and she smelled the strong scent of honey as she coated the strands in something.

Naomi had never been to an actual salon, but Silena liked to chat when she was doing people's hair (she was the go-to stylist at camp, especially for year-rounders), so Naomi tried to make small talk.

"How long have you been working here?" she asked Reyna.

"A while," she answered. "My sister and I arrived at the island... almost two years ago, I believe."

"Your sister?" Naomi asked.

"Hylla," Reyna explained. "With the clipboard."

"Ah." Now that Naomi thought about it, they definitely looked like sisters.

"Do you have sisters?" Reyna asked.

"Oh, no," Naomi answered. "None that I've met, anyway. No brothers, either."

"An only child?"

"Pretty much." Naomi wasn't really sure Persephone's other kids counted.

Reyna hummed. "Does it get lonely?"

Naomi thought about it for a moment. "It did," she admitted quietly. She might have grown up in an orphanage surrounded by other kids her age, but they'd never felt like siblings—more like annoying, temporary roommates.

"It doesn't anymore?"

Naomi thought of the Demeter cabin back at camp; of Ethan, Drew, and Silena; of Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.

"No," she said. "Not anymore."

By the time Hylla returned with two sleeveless white dresses for Naomi and Annabeth to change into, Naomi's hair was freshly washed and dried, silkier and shinier than she'd ever felt it before. She made a mental note to see if Silena had manuka honey hair masks back at camp, because they were miracle workers.

Naomi returned the orchid behind her ear, her fingers having grown tingly from how tightly the stem had wrapped around them. It was like the flower was having a fit, the bud leaning forward so she could see it in her peripheral (which was annoyingly distracting). The smell had gone up a notch, too, invading her senses with the flowery scent.

Once they were changed into their C.C.-inspired wardrobe (they even put makeup on them, though it was a lot less heavy-handed than what Drew forced her into from time to time), Hylla showed them around more of the island.

Annabeth's favorite place, predictably, was the library. It was huge—three-stories-tall, shelves full of books covering nearly every inch of the walls. Her eyes shone with awe as she took it all in, and Naomi was just a little wonderstruck.

She blamed the makeover, even though she knew the joy on Annabeth's face was mostly to blame.

When Annabeth turned her grinning face toward Naomi, Naomi's heart most certainly did not do a flip. Absolutely not.

Finally, Hylla managed to pull them away from the library and back toward the main room to see C.C. again.

"Miss C.C.?" Annabeth called.

They walked in, and Naomi frowned when she realized C.C. was alone in the room. "Where's Percy?"

C.C. smiled. "He's having one of our treatments, my dear. Not to worry. You two look wonderful! What did you think of your tour?"

Annabeth's eyes brightened. "Your library is amazing!"

"Yes, indeed," C.C. said. "The best knowledge of the past three millennia. Anything you want to study, anything you want to be, my dear."

"An architect?" Annabeth asked hopefully.

"Pah!" C.C. said. "You, my dear, have the makings of a sorceress." She smiled at Naomi. "You and your friend both. Just like me."

Annabeth took a step back. "A sorceress?"

"Yes, my dear." C.C. held up her hand. A flame appeared in her palm and danced across her fingertips. "My mother is Hecate, the goddess of magic. I know a daughter of Athena when I see one. We are not so different, you and I. We both seek knowledge. We both admire greatness. Neither of us needs to stand in the shadow of men."

"I—I don't understand."

"And you, my dear." C.C. set her eyes on Naomi, who shrank back. "A daughter of Hades, I presume? I can feel your power simmering just below the surface, waiting for you to let it out. You could bring the world to its knees—you need only learn the how."

Naomi shook her head, her brow furrowed. "I'm not—"

"Stay with me," C.C. invited. "Study with me. You could join our staff, become sorceresses, learn to bend others to your will. You will become immortal!"

"But—" Annabeth started to protest.

"You are too intelligent, my dear," C.C. said. "You know better than to trust that silly camp for heroes. How many great female half-blood heroes can you name?"

"Um, Atalanta, Amelia Earhart—"

"Bah! Men get all the glory." C.C. closed her fist and extinguished the magic flame. "The only way to power for women is sorcery. Medea, Calypso, now there were powerful women! And me, of course. The greatest of all."

"You... C.C... Circe!" Annabeth realized.

"Yes, my dear."

Annabeth backed up, pulling Naomi back with her.

C.C. laughed. "You need not worry. I mean you no harm."

"What did you do to Percy?" Naomi demanded.

"Only helped him realize his true form."

Naomi scanned the room. She spotted the wire pet cage—at one of the guinea pigs scratching furiously at the bars, all of the other guinea pigs crowding around him.

Is that...?

Annabeth grabbed Naomi's hand, and she knew her hunch was correct.

Oh, gods.

Naomi's best friend was a guinea pig.

"Forget him," Circe said. "Join me and learn the ways of sorcery. You would make an unstoppable pair."

"But—" Naomi started.

"Your friend will be well cared for. He'll be shipped to a wonderful new home on the mainland. The kindergarteners will adore him. Meanwhile, you two will be wise and powerful. You will have all you ever wanted."

All you ever wanted.

It sounded like a dream—a beautiful, perfect dream, just within reach. Circe dangled it in front of them, pulling them in, inviting them into a world of power and fame.

The orchid brushed Naomi's cheek, and the smell flooded her lungs like medicine from an inhaler. She blinked, startled.

Annabeth's hand grew slack in Naomi's, her expression clouded with wistfulness. She was being pulled in, too.

"Let us think about it," Naomi said quickly, looking at Circe. "Give—give us a minute alone. To say goodbye."

"Of course, my dear," Circe cooed. "One minute. Oh... and so you have absolute privacy..." She waved her hand and iron bars slammed down over the windows. She swept out of the room and Naomi heard the locks on the door click shut behind her.

Naomi grabbed the orchid and all but shoved it into Annabeth's nose, startling the blonde until her eyes cleared from whatever magical trance Circe had put her in.

Naomi sent up a quick prayer to Demeter. Thanks, Grandma.

She and Annabeth rushed over to the cage Percy the Guinea Pig was stuck in.

"All right, which one is you?" Annabeth asked.

All of the guinea pigs squealed in response.

"Helpful," Naomi grumbled.

Annabeth scanned the room, spotting something under Circe's loom. She ran over, returning with the bottle of Hermes's multivitamins.

"Is this really the time for multivitamins?" Naomi asked.

Annabeth shook out two and handed one to Naomi. "Just chew!"

Naomi popped the grape-flavored vitamin into her mouth just as the door flew open and Circe came back in, flanked by two of her business-suited attendants.

"Well," Circe sighed, "how fast a minute passes. What is your answer, my dears?"

"This," Annabeth said, and she drew her bronze knife.

Naomi wasn't sure what her plan was, but she drew Hemlock and got ready for a fight.

Circe stepped back, but her surprise quickly passed. She sneered. "Really, little girl, two puny blades against my magic? Is that wise?"

Circe looked back at her attendants, who smiled. They raised their hands as if preparing to cast a spell.

"What will these ladies' makeover be?" Circe mused. "Something small and ill-tempered. I know... a pair of shrews!"

Blue fire coiled from her fingers, curling like serpents around Naomi and Annabeth.

Nothing happened.

Annabeth leaped forward and stuck the point of her knife against Circe's neck. The attendants tried to come to her aid, but Naomi jumped between them, pointing her sword and trying to look as mean as possible.

"How about turning me into a panther instead?" Annabeth snarled. "One that has her claws at your throat!"

"How?" Circle yelped.

Annabeth held up the bottle of vitamins for the sorceress to see.

Circe howled in frustration. "Curse Hermes and his multivitamins! Those are such a fad! They do nothing for you."

"Turn Percy back into a human or else!" Annabeth said.

"I can't!"

"Then you asked for it."

Circe's attendants tried to step forward again, but Naomi slashed at the closest one, and she yelped.

"Get back!" Circe told the attendants. "They're immune to magic until that cursed vitamin wears off."

Annabeth threw Naomi the bottle of vitamins, still holding her knife to Circe's throat. "Go!"

Naomi twisted the cap off as she ran over to the cage. She knocked the top off and poured the rest of the vitamins inside.

"No!" Circe screamed.

It didn't take long for the cage to explode, leaving a now human-Percy and six other guys who all looked disoriented, blinking and shaking wood shavings out of their hair.

"No!" Circe screamed. "You don't understand! Those are the worst!"

One of the men stood up—a huge guy with a long tangled pitch-black beard and teeth the same color. He wore mismatched clothes of wool and leather, knee-length boots, and a floppy felt hat. The other men were dressed more simply—in breeches and stained white shirts. All of them were barefoot.

"Argggh!" bellowed the big man. "What's the witch done t'me?"

"No!" Circe moaned.

Annabeth gasped. "I recognize you! Edward Teach, son of Ares?"

"Aye, lass," the big man growled. "Though most call me Blackbeard! And there's the sorceress that captured us, lads. Run her through, and then I mean to find me a big bowl of celery! Arggggh!"

Circe screamed. She and her attendants ran from the room, chased by the pirates.

Annabeth sheathed her knife and glared at Percy.

"Thanks..." He faltered. "I'm really sorry—"

Annabeth tackled him in a hug, then pulled away just as quickly. "I'm glad you're not a guinea pig."

"Me, too."

Naomi willed Hemlock back into her ring, then set down the now-empty bottle of multivitamins. "We should go—while Circe's distracted."

They ran down the hillside through the terraces, past screaming spa workers and pirates ransacking the resort. Blackbeard's men broke the tiki torches for the luau, threw herbal wraps into the swimming pool, and kicked over tables of sauna towels.

"Which ship?" Annabeth asked when they reached the docks.

Percy looked around desperately, then stopped. "There."

Naomi followed his gaze, frowning.

Annabeth blinked. "But—"

"I can make it work," Percy said.

"How?"

Percy didn't explain. He grabbed their hands and pulled them toward the three-mast ship. Painted on its prow was the name: Queen Anne's Revenge.

"Arggh!" Blackbeard yelled somewhere behind them. "Those scallywags are a-boarding me vessel! Get 'em, lads!"

"We'll never get going in time!" Annabeth yelled as they climbed aboard.

Percy closed his eyes. "Mizzenmast!" he yelled.

Naomi had no earthly clue what that meant, but in the next second, the air was filled with whistling sounds of ropes being snapped taut, canvases unfurling and wooden pulleys creaking.

Annabeth and Naomi ducked as a cable flew over their heads and wrapped itself around the bowsprit.

"Percy, how...?" Annabeth looked mystified.

The sails rose; the rudder turned. The Queen Anne's Revenge lurched away from the dock, and by the time the pirates arrived at the water's edge, they were already underway, sailing into the Sea of Monsters.

Chapter 36: x. an ill-timed family reunion at sea

Summary:

tw: mention of child abuse

Chapter Text

THEY SAILED THROUGH THE NIGHT.

Annabeth tried to help keep lookout, but sailing didn't agree with her, so after a few hours, she went below to lie in a hammock, leaving Naomi and Percy abovedeck to keep watch.

Naomi was lost in thought, twisting her ring around her finger as she stared at the horizon. Ever since she'd gotten it last summer, it had become her go-to for expelling a bit of nervous energy. It was definitely less annoying to others than tapping on tabletops or bouncing her leg up and down.

But clearly, people still took notice.

"What are you thinking about?"

Naomi looked up to find Percy already watching her. The sun made his eyes glisten like the surface of the ocean, which did funny things to her stomach, so she looked away after a moment.

She shrugged. "Not much."

Percy scoffed quietly. "'Not much,'" he said. "Right."

Naomi glared at him, but there was no heat in it. "If you really want to know, I was thinking about how much less annoying you'd be as a guinea pig."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Sure you were," he said. "Seriously, what is it?"

Naomi fidgeted with her fingers. Quietly, she asked, "Why do you think Circe thought I was a daughter of Hades?"

"I don't know," Percy said. "She's not the first person to think that, though."

"But it's not like she had any reason to," Naomi said. "Everyone thought I was a child of Hades before because of the hellhound, but Circe didn't know anything about that. So why would she make that mistake?"

Percy was quiet for a moment. "I... don't know," he repeated.

"She said she could feel my power," Naomi whispered. "That I could bring the world to its knees. And now I can't help but wonder if... if Kronos thinks the same thing."

"You think he wants to use you as a weapon." It wasn't a question, but part of Naomi wished it was. The uncertainty might have been able to quell the anxiety stirring inside of her.

"Luke said we'd be his champions. He didn't try to kill me, he tried to take me—on Kronos's orders." Naomi dug her nails into her palm. "I just don't understand why. Persephone isn't some big and powerful goddess—she's not even an Olympian. How could I be a weapon if all I can do is summon flowers?"

"Persephone's still the Queen of the Underworld," Percy reminded. "Maybe she has some of the same powers as Hades—like, control of the dead, or something. I mean, those zombies on Clarisse's ship kept bowing to you. Maybe that's why Kronos wants you on his side."

"So I can lead an undead army in his name?" Naomi asked with a scoff. "Like that'll happen."

Percy cracked a smile. "Yeah, that guy doesn't seem like the brightest crayon in the box."

"Definitely not."

Sometime after midnight, Annabeth came back up on the deck, looking slightly less seasick. They were just passing a smoking volcano island, the sea bubbling and steaming around the shore.

"One of the forges of Hephaestus," Annabeth said. "Where he makes his metal monsters."

"Like the bronze bulls?" Percy asked.

Annabeth nodded. "Go around. Far around."

They steered clear of the island, and soon it was just a red patch of haze behind them.

Percy looked at Annabeth. "The reason you hate Cyclops so much... the story about how Thalia really died. What happened?"

Annabeth's expression was conflicted for a moment, then—just sad.

"I guess you deserve to know," she said finally. "The night Grover was escorting us to camp, he got confused, took some wrong turns. You remember he told you that once?"

Percy nodded.

"Well, the worst wrong turn was into a Cyclops's lair in Brooklyn."

"They've got Cyclopes in Brooklyn?" Percy asked.

"You wouldn't believe how many, but that's not the point," Annabeth said. "This Cyclops, he tricked us. He managed to split us up inside this maze of corridors in an old house in Flatbush. And he could sound like anyone, Percy. Just the way Tyson did aboard the Princess Andromeda. He lured us, one at a time. Thalia thought she was running to save Luke. Luke thought he heard me scream for help. And me... I was alone in the dark. I was seven years old. I couldn't even find the exit."

She brushed the hair out of her face. "I remember finding the main room. There were bones all over the floor. And there were Thalia and Luke and Grover, tied up and gagged, hanging from the ceiling like smoked hams. The Cyclops was starting a fire in the middle of the floor. I drew my knife, but he heard me. He turned and smiled. He spoke, and somehow he knew my dad's voice. I guess he just plucked it out of my mind. He said, 'Now, Annabeth, don't you worry. I love you. You can stay here with me. You can stay forever.'"

Naomi shuddered. The way Annabeth told it was worse than any ghost story back at camp.

"What did you do?" Percy asked.

"I stabbed him in the foot."

Naomi stared at her. "You were seven and you stabbed a grown Cyclops in the foot?"

"Oh, he would've killed me. But I surprised him. It gave me just enough time to run to Thalia and cut the ropes on her hands. She took it from there."

"Yeah, but still... at seven... that was really brave, Annabeth."

Annabeth shook her head. "We barely got out alive. I still have nightmares. The way that Cyclops talked in my father's voice. It was his fault we took so long getting to camp. All the monsters who'd been chasing us had time to catch up. That's really why Thalia died. If it hadn't been for that Cyclops, she'd still be alive today."

They sat on the deck, watching the Heracles constellation rise in the night sky.

"Go below," Annabeth told Percy at last. "You need some rest."

Percy nodded, going down below.

That left Annabeth and Naomi on deck, the only sound the water below them.

Annabeth's expression was still troubled. Maybe she was reliving the story she'd told them, her older brain coming up with a dozen different ways her younger self could have done things differently and kept Thalia from dying. Maybe she was trying to figure out how not to blame that little seven-year-old for getting her best friend killed.

Naomi wasn't sure what to say to make her feel better, so she said nothing. Instead, she walked over to where Annabeth was sitting against the side of the ship, her knife in her lap and her eyes on the stars, and she sat down next to her.

Neither spoke, but after a second, Annabeth shifted so that their shoulders were pressed together, and Naomi knew—no words were needed.

Hours later, as the sun rose to greet them after a long night of darkness, their ship approached the island of the Sirens.

Annabeth went below to wake up Percy, and Naomi stood at the bow of the ship. She could barely make out the island ahead, the land shrouded in early morning fog. She couldn't hear the Sirens' song yet, but she knew it wouldn't be long.

"We'll be in range of their singing soon," Annabeth was saying as she and Percy joined Naomi at the bow.

"No problem," Percy said. "We can just stop up our ears. There's a big tub of candle wax below deck—"

"I want to hear them."

Naomi turned away from the island in the distance, looking at Annabeth. "Why?"

"They say the Sirens sing the truth about what you desire," Annabeth explained. "They tell you things about yourself you didn't even realize. That's what's so enchanting. If you survive... you become wiser. I want to hear them. How often will I get the chance?"

Annabeth told them her plan, and reluctantly, they helped her get ready.

As soon as the rocky coastline of the island came into view, Percy ordered one of the ropes to wrap around Annabeth's waist, tying her to the foremast.

"Don't untie me," she instructed, "no matter what happens or how much I plead. I'll want to go straight over the edge and drown myself."

"Are you trying to tempt me?" Percy asked.

"Ha-ha."

Naomi and Percy fashioned earplugs out of the candle wax, stuffing them into their ears.

Annabeth nodded sarcastically, letting them know the earplugs were a real fashion statement. Percy made a face at her and turned to the pilot's wheel, and Naomi returned to the bow to watch the island grow closer.

Naomi was quickly beginning to realize that she hated silence. She'd never given it much thought before, but she rarely encountered silence in her life. Asher snored at night and a few of the other Demeter kids were restless sleepers, so the cabin was rarely completely quiet. There were always birdcalls or insects buzzing around as she went around camp. Drew had a habit of humming to herself whenever they were hanging out but not talking. Even at St. Monica's, there was always some kind of noise.

Silence wasn't something Naomi had ever grown accustomed to, and it wasn't pleasant in the slightest.

As they approached the island of the Sirens, jagged rocks loomed out of the fog. The Queen Anne's Revenge skirted around them.

Naomi risked a glance toward Annabeth. At first, she seemed completely fine. Then she got a puzzled look on her face. Her eyes widened.

She strained against the ropes. She called their names—Naomi could tell just from the way her mouth was moving. Her expression was clear, desperate: she had to get out. It was life or death. She needed to get out right now.

Naomi swallowed hard, forcing herself to look away.

The ship sailed faster.

Naomi still couldn't see much of the island—just mist and rocks—but floating in the water were pieces of wood and fiberglass, the wreckage of old ships, even some flotation cushions from airplanes.

How could music cause so many lives to veer off-course? What could the Sirens possibly sing about that was so enticing?

Actually, it wasn't that hard to imagine. Maybe they sang about peace, or love, or riches beyond one's wildest dreams. Maybe they sang songs about a life free of torment and heartache, where friendships never soured and love always lasted.

For a moment, Naomi understood Annabeth's curiosity. She was tempted to take the earplugs out, just for a moment. She could feel the Sirens' voices vibrating in the timbers of the ship, pulsing along with the blood coursing in her ears.

Annabeth was pleading, now. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She strained against the ropes, as if they were holding her back from everything she cared about.

How could you be so cruel? she seemed to be asking. I thought you were my friends.

Naomi's heart crawled into her throat, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the island ahead.

That was where things went wrong.

She wasn't sure how much time passed before she risked another look back, only to see... nothing. Annabeth was gone, nothing but a heap of cut ropes and her bronze knife left in her place.

They'd forgotten to disarm her—like amateurs.

Naomi waved frantically to get Percy's attention, pointing at the Annabeth-less mast as she rushed to the side of the boat.

Annabeth was in the sea, paddling madly for the island, the waves carrying her straight toward the jagged rocks.

Percy jumped in after her, leaving Naomi to watch helplessly as one of her best friends tried to drown herself and the other tried to save her.

As they sank below the surface, Naomi's heart sank, too. The dark water obscured them from view. They were gone one minute, two, three—too long. Oh gods. Oh gods.

A hand touched Naomi's arm.

She screamed, the sound strangely muffled to her plugged ears, and whirled around. Hemlock sprang to life in an instant—whether it had been summoned subconsciously or was simply responding to her panic, Naomi wasn't sure. But she was grateful nonetheless, to have a weapon in her hand as she spun to face...

A woman?

For a split second, Naomi wondered if this was what a Siren looked like up close, but she knew it wasn't. She'd heard the stories of Sirens—they sang beautifully, but they were grotesque-looking in person, like human-sized vultures.

This woman was the opposite of grotesque. She was beautiful. Her brown skin glowed in the uninhibited sunlight as it streamed down from the cloudless sky; her curly hair was a shade of brown so dark it was almost black, but not quite. Woven into the curls were wildflowers, as vibrant as the ones that grew on Circe's island.

Naomi had never seen her before in her life, but she knew without a doubt who the woman standing before her was.

And it made her furious.

Her grip tightened on Hemlock, even though she knew it would be suicide to try to attack. The weight of the blade was still a comfort.

Her mother took a step toward her, and Naomi took two back.

Emotion flickered across the goddess Persephone's face—disappointment, maybe, or sorrow. Naomi didn't care to decipher it. She had enough of her own sorrow to deal with, a majority of it a result of the woman before her.

"What are you doing here?" Naomi demanded.

Her mother answered. Naomi expected not to hear it with her earplugs still securely in her ears, so she was startled by the sound of a soft voice in her mind.

I came to say hello.

Naomi flinched, taking another step back. "Don't do that," she said, touching her ear. "I don't like that."

Persephone sighed from the looks of it. She waved a hand, and the sun disappeared.

No, false alarm—it wasn't that the sun had disappeared. Instead, Persephone had fashioned some sort of dome of pure darkness over them, just large enough to encompass the two of them.

You can take the earplugs out now, Persephone said into her mind. You are safe from my old friends' songs so long as we remain in this darkness.

Reluctantly, Naomi took out one of her earplugs. "Your old friends?"

Persephone hummed. "My companions, before I was taken to the Underworld. My mother cursed them for letting Hades take me."

"Of course she did," Naomi muttered. "What are you doing here? I'm in the middle of something."

"I told you," Persephone murmured. She looked like she was going to take another step forward, but at the last moment, she didn't. Naomi was glad. "I came to say hello to my daughter."

"It's really not a good time," Naomi said. "My friends—"

"Will be alright," Persephone promised. "They're down below the sea's surface as we speak, following the ship past the island of the Sirens."

Despite herself, Naomi's shoulders sagged just a little with relief. At least Percy and Annabeth were okay.

"You could have said hello a lot sooner," she said, and she didn't care how bitter she sounded. "You could've claimed me sooner, too."

"I had to bide my time," Persephone said softly. "I had to wait until I was in the Underworld to claim you."

"Why? So you could convince Hades not to smite me where I stood?"

"It wasn't Hades I was worried about," Persephone murmured.

Naomi's brows came together. "What are you talking about?"

"There are... more than a few gods who would see you dead and me punished for... for you," Persephone admitted, her voice soft, like the petals of a peony—delicate and fragile, breakable by the smallest wind. "For your existence."

"What? Why would the gods be mad?" Were they that concerned about her mother's marriage to Hades? Hadn't he had half-blood children of his own?

Persephone didn't answer, and Naomi wondered why she'd expected her to. Gods weren't known for their straight answers and simple explanations—why should her absentee mother be any different?

Naomi's throat ached with tears, but she forced them down. As much as she'd rather be doing anything other than talking to the woman who abandoned her as a baby, she might as well try to get some answers while she was here.

"Why couldn't I do any of that plant stuff before you claimed me?" Naomi asked. It was a safe question, safer than the others that plagued her.

This time, Persephone did answer. "I asked a friend to place a spell on you," she confessed. "To hide your scent from monsters, to hide your existence from the gods until... until you were ready. Your powers had to be suppressed as well."

"You left me defenseless?" Naomi's chest felt tight with anger, or... maybe it was more betrayal. "A half-blood alone in the world, and you took away any chance I had at protecting myself?"

"No, never," Persephone said. "I never left you defenseless."

You did. You let me get placed in that house. You let that man hurt me.

Naomi bit her tongue. She was already too close to tears, and she didn't want to cry in front of her mother.

"Whatever," she muttered, biting out the word so her voice didn't crack. "Is that all?"

"No, I—" Persephone paused. She moved her hand, almost like she wanted to reach out, but she held herself back. "I came here because I wanted to see you. You... you've grown so much."

Naomi's throat tightened with something that was more grief than the anger already hot in her chest. "That tends to happen when you abandon your kid as a baby. They grow up."

"Kore—"

Naomi flinched. She knew that pet name, knew it was what Demeter had called Persephone before her marriage, knew it was a term of affection, from a mother to her daughter. It sounded like metal on metal to her ears, coming from the mother who she was only meeting for the first time, fourteen years after she was born.

"Don't call me that," Naomi bit out.

"Sweetheart—"

That was the tipping point.

"Stop!" The stoic tone Naomi had been proud of holding onto from the start of the conversation dropped into something that teetered dangerously between fury and hysteria. "You don't get to do this!"

Persephone's eyes, even in the darkness, shone with confusion. "I don't under—"

"You don't get to call me pet names!" Naomi said. "You don't get to show up fourteen years later and expect to just jump into the role of my mother! You don't get to act like you didn't abandon me!"

"Naomi, I may not have been able to raise you, but I never abandoned you," Persephone insisted. "I've watched you your entire life, I never—"

"That just makes it worse!" Naomi exclaimed, and there was no dam that could stop the tears this time. "You saw everything I went through and you did nothing!"

"I did what I was able to," Persephone told her, her voice as quiet as a shadow. "We aren't allowed to interfere, but I did. I... I did what I could."

It was the honesty in her voice that hurt the most—the fact that she truly believed she'd done all that she could. Maybe she had—but that just cemented the fact that it wasn't enough.

Naomi knew it was cruel, but she wasn't used to anger, and it made her impulsive. She wrenched her sleeve up, exposing her shoulder, where a dozen tiny, circular burns had scarred her skin. Her fingers brushed the side of her neck—there were no scars there, but even six years later, she could remember the feeling of a hand wrapped around it, unyielding to a little girl's desperate pleas.

"You didn't protect me from him," she seethed.

Persephone was quiet for so long, Naomi was sure she'd won the one-sided argument they were having. What was her mother supposed to say to that? Sorry didn't take the nightmares away; it didn't erase the scars; it didn't make up for the trauma she'd suffered at that man's hands.

But then she did speak: "I'll never forgive myself for not sending Skia sooner."

It was Naomi's turn to be silent. She pushed her sleeve back down, covering the scars once more. After a moment, she said, "What are you talking about?"

"The attack," Persephone said quietly.

Naomi didn't need her to elaborate. She remembered the night it happened with perfect clarity—how Mr. Bowry had been late coming home from work, how his wife had answered the phone and broke down as the voice on the other end told her that her husband was dead.

Mauled by a rabid dog, from the looks of it, the police had said.

Naomi had gone back to St. Monica's the next day, before the cigarette burns had even begun to heal, before the bruises on her neck had a chance to fade even a little. The nuns hadn't asked, but they must have known. They just hadn't cared.

"That... that was Skia?"

"I sent her to keep an eye on you when I couldn't," Persephone told her. "To protect you."

"Am I supposed to thank you?"

"Of course not." Persephone took another step forward, and it was only stubbornness that planted Naomi's feet. There was still a foot of space between them—air charged with a mother's regret and a daughter's fury. She could feel the tension between them like the force of two south ends of magnets being pushed together.

"I did what I could," her mother whispered. "And I know that wasn't enough. I can't change that, no matter how badly I wish I could. I understand that you resent me, Naomi—that you want nothing to do with me. But if I don't try to mend things between us, it'll just be another of my greatest regrets."

"Gods aren't supposed to interfere," Naomi said coldly. "You said so yourself."

"It's true," Persephone conceded. "But this won't be the first time I defy the gods for you—and it won't be the last."

She stepped closer, and her hand came up—slowly, so slowly Naomi could track its movement second-by-second as it came to rest on her cheek. She wasn't sure why she didn't move; whether it was the actions of the motherless little girl that still resided in her chest, desperate for the love she'd been denied, or the actions of a stubborn teenager not wanting to show how affected she was by her mother's reappearance in her life.

Persephone's hand was cold, like ice against Naomi's flushed skin. Her thumb brushed against Naomi's cheekbone, wiping at the tear track underneath her eye.

"I tried to shield you from your fate, Naomi," Persephone murmured. "Since you were born, since..." She swallowed. "I have hoped to keep you from this life, but I should have known that what the Fates prophesized could not be escaped."

"The Fates?" Naomi asked. "What—why are you being so cryptic?"

"It is the way of immortals," Persephone said mournfully. "I cannot tell you what you will face in the years to come, but I can tell you this: I love you, Naomi. Never let anyone—god or mortal—convince you of anything different."

Naomi closed her eyes, her tears still falling with abandon, and in that moment, the cold hand on her cheek disappeared.

When she opened her eyes, her mother was gone, and the darkness was fading. All that remained was a single aster, the petals pink against the wood of the deck.

By the time Percy and Annabeth boarded the ship once more, Naomi was staring at the horizon ahead of them, her cheeks wet and her heart in pieces.

Maybe they knew that, somehow, or maybe what had happened to Annabeth while Naomi met her mother had left her in a similar state, or maybe there was no reason at all.

Whatever it was, when they reached the bow of the ship where Naomi stood, neither Percy nor Annabeth asked why her eyes were red, or why she was holding a freshly picked flower when there was no garden or dirt in sight.

They just stood on either side of her, shoulders touching—a solid, unmoving line.

Chapter 37: xi. sheep taxi into the home of a cyclops

Chapter Text

THEY REACHED POLYPHEMUS'S ISLAND faster than Naomi was expecting.

Barely half an hour after her first meeting with her mother and Annabeth's impulsive dip into the sea, they spotted the home of the Cyclops, the land covered in forested hills and white beaches and green meadows.

It wasn't as scary as Naomi expected it to be. Sure, there was a rope bridge that went over a chasm, but other than that, it was almost... beautiful. There were green fields and tropical fruit trees and white beaches all around.

As they sailed toward the shore, Annabeth breathed in the sweet air. "The Fleece," she said.

Naomi nodded. She couldn't see the Fleece yet, but she could feel its power. It wasn't hard to believe it could heal anything, even Thalia's poisoned tree.

"If we take it away, will the island die?" Percy asked.

Annabeth shook her head. "It'll fade. Go back to what it would be normally—whatever that is."

Several dozen sheep milled about in one of the many meadows, and just past them was a path that led up into the hills. At the top of the path, near the edge of the canyon, stood a massive oak tree, something gold glittering in the branches.

"This is too easy," Percy said. "We could just hike up there and take it."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "There's supposed to be a guardian. A dragon or..."

That's when a deer emerged from the bushes. It trotted into the meadow, probably looking for grass to eat, when the sheep all bleated at once and rushed the animal. It happened so fast that the deer stumbled and was lost in a sea of wool and trampling hooves.

Grass and tufts of fur flew into the air.

A second later, the sheep all moved away, back to their peaceful wandering. Where the deer had been was a pile of clean white bones.

"I... I think I'd prefer a dragon," Naomi admitted in shock.

"They're like piranhas," Annabeth said.

"Piranhas with wool," Percy said. "How will we—?"

Annabeth gasped. "Look!"

She pointed down the beach, to just below the sheep meadow, where a small boat had been run aground... the other lifeboat from the CSS Birmingham.

They decided there was no way to get past the piranha-sheep. Annabeth wanted to sneak up the path invisibly and grab the Fleece, but in the end Naomi and Percy convinced her that something would go wrong. The sheep would smell her, or another guardian would appear, or something. And if that happened, Naomi and Percy would be too far away to help.

Besides, their first job was to find Grover and whoever had come ashore in that lifeboat—assuming they'd gotten past the sheep.

They moored the Queen Anne's Revenge on the back side of the island where the cliffs rose straight up a good two hundred feet to hopefully give their ship a bit of cover.

The cliffs looked about as climbable as the lava wall back at camp—not easy, but not impossible. And there were no terrifying sheep, which was the biggest draw.

They rowed a lifeboat to the edge of the rocks and made their way up, very slowly.

They only came close to dying six or seven times. Once, Percy lost his grip and found himself dangling by one hand from a ledge fifty feet above the rocky surf, but he found another handhold and kept climbing. A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was Percy's face.

"Sorry," she said.

"S'okay," Percy grunted.

Finally, when Naomi felt like her fingers were about to start snapping off one by one, they hauled themselves over the top of the cliff and collapsed.

"Ugh," Percy groaned.

"Ouch," Annabeth moaned.

"Ow," Naomi agreed.

"Garrr!" bellowed another voice.

Despite her exhaustion, Naomi jumped at the sudden sound. She whirled around, but she couldn't see anyone else.

Annabeth clamped her hand over Percy's and Naomi's mouths and jerked her chin in the direction of the voice.

The ledge they were sitting on was narrower than Naomi had realized. It dropped off on the opposite side, and that's where the voice was coming from—right below them.

"You're a feisty one!" the deep voice bellowed.

"Challenge me!" Clarisse's voice, no doubt about it. "Give me back my sword and I'll fight you!"

The monster roared with laughter.

Annabeth, Percy, and Naomi crept to the edge. They were right above the entrance of the Cyclops's cave. Below them stood Polyphemus and Grover (in a wedding dress—guess Percy wasn't kidding about that part). Clarisse was tied up, hanging upside down over a pot of boiling water.

"Hmm," Polyphemus pondered. "Eat loudmouth girl now or wait for wedding feast? What does my bride think?"

He turned to Grover, who backed up and almost tripped over his bridal train. "Oh, um, I'm not hungry right now, dear. Perhaps—"

"Did you say bride?" Clarisse demanded. "Who—Grover?"

Annabeth muttered, "Shut up. She has to shut up."

Polyphemus glowered. "What 'Grover'?"

"The satyr!" Clarisse yelled.

"Oh!" Grover yelped. "The poor thing's brain is boiling from that hot water. Pull her down, dear!"

Polyphemus's eyelids narrowed over his baleful milky eye, as if he were trying to see Clarisse more clearly.

"What satyr?" he asked. "Satyrs are good eating. You bring me a satyr?"

"No, you big idiot!" bellowed Clarisse. "That satyr! Grover! The one in the wedding dress!"

Naomi and her companions watched helplessly as Polyphemus turned and ripped off Grover's wedding veil—revealing his curly hair, scruffy adolescent beard, and tiny horns.

Polyphemus breathed heavily, trying to contain his anger. "I don't see very well," he growled. "Not since many years ago when the other hero stabbed me in eye. But YOU'RE—NO—LADY—CYCLOPS!"

The Cyclops grabbed Grover's dress and tore it away. Underneath, the old Grover reappeared in his jeans and T-shirt. He yelped and ducked as the monster swiped over his head.

"Stop!" Grover pleaded. "Don't eat me raw! I—I have a good recipe!"

Percy reached for his sword, but Annabeth hissed, "Wait!"

Polyphemus was hesitating, a boulder in his hand, ready to smash his would-be bride.

"Recipe?" he asked Grover.

"Oh y-yes! You don't want to eat me raw. You'll get E coli and botulism and all sorts of horrible things. I'll taste much better grilled over a slow fire. With mango chutney! You could go get some mangos right now, down there in the woods. I'll just wait here."

The monster pondered this. Naomi's heart beat a furious rhythm in her chest.

"Grilled satyr with mango chutney," Polyphemus mused. He looked back at Clarisse, still hanging over the pot of boiling water. "You a satyr, too?"

"No, you overgrown pile of dung!" she yelled. "I'm a girl! The daughter of Ares! Now untie me so I can rip your arms off!"

"Rip my arms off," Polyphemus repeated.

"And stuff them down your throat!"

"You got spunk.""

Let me down!"

Polyphemus snatched up Grover as if he were a wayward puppy. "Have to graze sheep now. Wedding postponed until tonight. Then we'll eat satyr for the main course!"

"But... you're still getting married?" Grover sounded hurt. "Who's the bride?"

Polyphemus looked toward the boiling pot.

Clarisse made a strangled sound. "Oh, no! You can't be serious. I'm not—"

Before Naomi or her companions could do anything, Polyphemus plucked her off the rope like she was a ripe apple, and tossed her and Grover deep into the cave. "Make yourself comfortable! I come back at sundown for big event!"

Then the Cyclops whistled, and a mixed flock of goats and sheep—smaller than the man-eaters—flooded out of the cave and past their master. As they went to pasture, Polyphemus patted some on the back and called them by name—Beltbuster, Tammany, Lockhart, etc.

When the last sheep had waddled out, Polyphemus rolled a boulder in front of the doorway as easily as you might close a refrigerator door, shutting off the sound of Clarisse and Grover screaming inside.

"Mangos," Polyphemus grumbled to himself. "What are mangos?"

He strolled off down the mountain in his baby-blue groom's outfit, leaving Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy alone with a pot of boiling water and a six-ton boulder.

They tried for what seemed like hours to move the boulder, but it was no use. They yelled into the cracks, tapped on the rock, did everything they could think of to get a signal to Grover, but if he heard them, they couldn't tell.

Even if by some miracle they managed to kill Polyphemus, it wouldn't do them any good. Grover and Clarisse would die inside that sealed cave. The only way to move the rock was to have the Cyclops do it.

In total frustration, Percy stabbed his sword against the boulder. Sparks flew, but that was it. A large rock wasn't the kind of enemy you could fight with a magic sword.

They sat on the ridge in despair and watched the distant baby-blue shape of the Cyclops as he moved among his flocks. He had wisely divided his regular animals from his man-eating sheep, putting each group on either side of the huge crevice that divided the island. The only way across was the rope bridge, and the planks were much too far apart for sheep hooves.

They watched as Polyphemus visited his carnivorous flock on the far side. Unfortunately, they didn't eat him. In fact, they didn't seem to bother him at all.

"Trickery," Annabeth decided. "We can't beat him by force, so we'll have to use trickery."

"Okay," Naomi said, nodding. "Do you have a trick in mind?"

"Not yet."

"Great," Percy huffed.

"Polyphemus will have to move the rock to let the sheep inside."

"At sunset," Percy said. "Which is when he'll marry Clarisse and have Grover for dinner. I'm not sure which is grosser."

"I could get inside," Annabeth said, "invisibly."

"What about me and Naomi?"

"The sheep," Annabeth mused. She gave her companions one of those sly looks that usually spelled trouble. "How do you two like sheep?"

Naomi quickly decided that she did not, in fact, like sheep. Not even a little.

"Just don't let go!" Annabeth said, standing invisibly somewhere off to Naomi's left. Easy for her to say—she wasn't hanging upside down from the belly of a sheep.

The sheep didn't seem to mind, thankfully. Even the Cyclops's smallest sheep were big enough to support the weight of a human, and they had thick wool that could be twirled into makeshift handles. But it smelled horrible, and Naomi was wondering if her grip strength would hold out long enough.

Guess we'll find out.

As soon as she and Percy were in position, the Cyclops roared, "Oy! Goaties! Sheepies!"

The flock dutifully began trudging back up the slopes toward the cave.

"This is it!" Annabeth whispered. "I'll be close by. Don't worry."

Naomi's sheep taxi started plodding up the hill. After a hundred yards, Naomi's already aching hands were practically screaming in protest.

But then, after a little unnecessary fat-shaming from Polyphemus, the sheep—and their unfortunate passengers—were in the cave.

Naomi could see the last of the sheep coming inside. If Annabeth didn't pull off her distraction soon...

The Cyclops was about to roll the stone back into place, when from somewhere outside Annabeth shouted, "Hello, ugly!"

Polyphemus stiffened. "Who said that?"

"Nobody!" Annabeth yelled.

That got exactly the reaction Annabeth had been hoping for. The monster's face turned red with rage.

"Nobody!" Polyphemus yelled back. "I remember you!"

"You're too stupid to remember anybody," Annabeth taunted. "Much less Nobody."

Naomi hoped to the gods she was already moving when she said that, because Polyphemus bellowed furiously, grabbed the nearest boulder (which happened to be his front door) and threw it toward the sound of Annabeth's voice. Naomi heard the rock smash into a thousand fragments.

For a terrifying moment, there was silence. Then Annabeth shouted, "You haven't learned to throw any better, either!"

Polyphemus howled. "Come here! Let me kill you, Nobody!"

"You can't kill Nobody, you stupid oaf," she taunted. "Come find me!"

Polyphemus barreled down the hill toward her voice.

In his frenzy to find his old enemy, Nobody (aka Odysseus), Polyphemus forgot about resealing the cave entrance. Apparently, he didn't even stop to consider that Annabeth's voice was female, whereas the first Nobody had been male.

Yeah... he really had a grudge.

Naomi just hoped Annabeth could stay alive and keep distracting him long enough for Percy and Naomi to find Grover and Clarisse.

They searched the main room, but there was no sign of the two. They pushed through the crowd of sheep and goats toward the back of the cave.

They ran down corridors littered with bones, past rooms full of sheepskin rugs and life-size cement sheep that Naomi recognized as the work of Medusa. There were collections of sheep t-shirts; large tubs of lanolin cream; and wooly coats, socks, and hats with rams' horns. Finally, they found the spinning room, where Grover was huddled in the corner, trying to cut Clarisse's bonds with a pair of safety scissors.

"It's no good," Clarisse said. "This rope is like iron!"

"Just a few more minutes!"

"Grover," she cried, exasperated. "You've been working at it for hours!"

Then they saw Percy and Naomi.

"You two?" Clarisse said. "You're supposed to be blown up!"

"Don't sound so disappointed," Naomi muttered.

"Yeah, good to see you too, Clarisse," Percy grumbled. "Now hold still while I—"

"Perrrrrcy!" Grover bleated and tackled him in a goat-hug. "You heard me! You came!" He threw his arms around Naomi. "You both came!"

"Yeah, buddy," Percy said. "Of course we came."

"Where's Annabeth?"

"Outside," Percy said. "But there's no time to talk. Clarisse, hold still."

Percy uncapped his sword and sliced off her ropes. She stood stiffly, rubbing her wrists. She glared at Percy for a moment, then looked at the ground and mumbled, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Percy said. "Now, was anyone else on board your lifeboat?"

Clarisse looked surprised. "No. Just me. Everybody else aboard the Birmingham... well, I didn't even know you guys made it out."

Percy looked down. "Okay. Come on, then. We have to help—"

An explosion echoed through the cave, followed by a scream that told Naomi they might be too late.

It was Annabeth crying out in fear.

"I got Nobody!" Polyphemus gloated.

Naomi and the others crept to the cave entrance and saw the Cyclops, grinning wickedly, holding up empty air. The monster shook his fist, and a baseball cap fluttered to the ground. There was Annabeth, hanging upside down by her legs.

"Hah!" the Cyclops said. "Nasty invisible girl! Already got a feisty one for wife. Means you gotta be roasted with mango chutney!"

Annabeth struggled, but she looked dazed. She had a nasty cut on her forehead. Her eyes were glassy.

"I'll rush him," Percy whispered to Clarisse. "Our ship is around the back of the island. You, Naomi, and Grover—"

"No way," all three of them said at the same time. Clarisse had armed herself with a highly collectible rams-horn spear from the Cyclops's cave. Grover had found a sheep's thigh bone, which he didn't look too happy about, but he was gripping it like a club, ready to attack. Naomi summoned Hemlock, clutching it in her fist.

"We'll take him together," Clarisse growled.

"Yeah," Grover said. Then he blinked, like he couldn't believe he'd just agreed with Clarisse about something.

"All right," Percy ceded. "Attack plan Macedonia."

They nodded. They'd all taken the same training courses at Camp Half-Blood. They knew what Percy was talking about. They would sneak around either side and attack the Cyclops from the back and the flanks while Percy held his attention in the front.

He hefted his sword and shouted, "Hey, Ugly!"

The giant whirled toward him. "Another one? Who are you?"

"Put down my friend, I'm the one who insulted you."

"You are Nobody?"

"That's right, you smelly bucket of nose drool!" Percy insulted. "I'm Nobody and I'm proud of it! Now, put her down and get over here! I want to stab your eye out again."

"RAAAR!" the Cyclops bellowed.

The good news: he dropped Annabeth.

The bad news: he dropped her head first onto the rocks, where she lay motionless as a rag doll.

The other bad news: Polyphemus barreled straight toward Percy.

"For Pan!" Grover rushed in from the right. He threw his sheep bone, which bounced harmlessly off the monster's forehead. Clarisse ran in from the left and set her spear against the ground just in time for the Cyclops to step on it. He wailed in pain, and Clarisse dove out of the way to avoid getting trampled. As the Cyclops stumbled around, disoriented, Naomi jabbed her sword as hard as she could into his Achilles heel, letting go and rolling away before he could step on her.

Unfortunately, that only made him angry. He plucked the spear shaft from his foot and the sword from his ankle, throwing them away from him and continuing to advance on Percy.

Naomi watched her sword fly through the air and over the cliff with a grimace. She knew it would come back as her ring, but there was always a minute or two's delay, which meant she was weaponless at the moment.

At least she was in good company, though. Clarisse and Grover were just as empty-handed.

The monster made a grab for Percy, who rolled aside and stabbed him in the thigh.

"Get Annabeth!" Percy yelled at Grover.

Grover rushed over, grabbed her invisibility cap, and picked her up while Clarisse, Percy, and Naomi tried to keep Polyphemus distracted.

Naomi wasn't sure what to do until she realized the Cyclops had stepped off of the rocky terrain around the cave and into the grassy meadow.

As Clarisse charged Polyphemus repeatedly, Naomi concentrated on the dirt beneath her. She'd only just begun to learn to do some of the things her cabinmates back at camp could do, but she had to try. She'd watched Miranda summon vines out of the dirt time and time again, using them to trip up campers when she needed a laugh. She'd watched Asher make the grass grow and wrap around ankles with little effort.

She had to hope she could do the same, even with no flowers in sight.

She concentrated hard, imagining thick, sturdy vines sprouting out of the ground and wrapping around the Cyclops's legs, binding him to the earth, even if only for a moment before he broke through. She had no delusions about being able to tether him to the ground for longer than a moment, but she figured it'd make for a good distraction.

She was just about to give up when vines sprang out of the grass, curling around Polyphemus's legs like pythons. He roared in annoyance, only having to struggle a little to break through, but with every vine he broke, another took its place.

Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi saw Grover carrying Annabeth across the rope bridge.

"Fall back!" Percy yelled.

The three half-bloods ran for the bridge, Polyphemus right behind them. Vines kept trying to trip him up, but he was stubborn and very mad.

"Grind you into sheep chow!" he promised. "A thousand curses on Nobody!"

"Faster!" Percy urged.

They tore down the hill. The bridge was their only chance. Grover had just made it to the other side and was setting Annabeth down.

"Grover!" Percy yelled. "Get Annabeth's knife!"

His eyes widened when he saw the Cyclops behind them, but he nodded like he understood. As Clarisse, Percy, and Naomi scrambled across the bridge, Grover began sawing at the ropes.

The first strand went snap!

Polyphemus bounded after them, making the bridge sway wildly.

The ropes were now half-cut. Clarisse, Naomi, and Percy dove for solid ground, landing beside Grover. Percy made a wild slash with his sword and cut the remaining ropes.

The bridge fell away into the chasm, and the Cyclops howled... with delight, because he was standing right next to them.

"Failed!" he yelled gleefully. "Nobody failed!"

Hemlock had returned to Naomi's hand, but when she and Clarisse tried to charge, the monster swatted them aside like flies. Naomi landed painfully on her back, groaning unhappily as black spots danced across her vision.

She managed to sit up in time to watch Percy charge Polyphemus one-on-one. He jabbed the Cyclops in the stomach, smacking him in the nose with the hilt of his sword when the monster doubled over. He slashed and kicked and bashed until Polyphemus was sprawled on his back, dazed and groaning, and Percy was standing over him, the tip of his sword hovering over his eye.

"Uhhhhhhh," Polyphemus moaned.

"Percy!" Grover gasped. "How did you—"

"Please, noooo!" the Cyclops moaned, pitifully staring up at Percy. "M-m-my sheepies need me. Only trying to protect my sheep!"

He began to sob.

"Kill him!" Clarisse yelled. "What are you waiting for?"

"He's a Cyclops!" Grover warned. "Don't trust him!"

Percy looked torn.

"We only want the Fleece," he said. "Will you agree to let us take it?"

"No!" Clarisse shouted. "Kill him!"

The monster sniffed. "My beautiful Fleece. Prize of my collection. Take it, cruel human. Take it and go in peace."

"I'm going to step back slowly," Percy told the monster. "One false move..."

Polyphemus nodded like he understood.

Percy stepped back... and as fast as a cobra, Polyphemus smacked him to the edge of the cliff.

"Foolish mortal!" he bellowed, rising to his feet. "Take my Fleece? Ha! I eat you first."

He opened his enormous mouth.

Then a rock the size of a basketball sailed into Polyphemus's throat. The Cyclops choked, trying to swallow down the unexpected pill. He staggered backward, but there was no place to stagger. His heel slipped, the edge of the cliff crumbled, and the great Polyphemus made chicken-wing motions that did nothing to help him fly as he tumbled into the chasm.

Naomi rushed to the edge, watching the monster fall. Halfway down the path to the beach, standing completely unharmed in the midst of a flock of killer sheep, was an old friend.

"Bad Polyphemus," Tyson said. "Not all Cyclopes as nice as we look."

Chapter 38: xii. clarisse flies home alone

Chapter Text

TYSON GAVE THEM A BRIEF RUNDOWN OF HIS ADVENTURES: Rainbow the hippocampus—who'd apparently been following them ever since the Long Island Sound, waiting for Tyson to play with him again—had found Tyson sinking beneath the wreckage of the CSS Birmingham and pulled him to safety. The two had been searching the Sea of Monsters ever since, trying to find the questers, until Tyson caught the scent of the sheep and found this island.

"Tyson, thank the gods!" Percy called. "Annabeth is hurt!"

"You thank the gods she is hurt?" Tyson asked, puzzled.

"No!" Percy knelt next to Naomi, who was already holding Annabeth's head in her lap. She'd already pressed a handful of yarrow flowers to the gash on her forehead, so the bleeding had all but stopped, but she was still pale and unresponsive, and no flower or herb could heal head trauma that severe.

"Tyson, the Fleece," Percy said. "Can you get it for me?"

"Which one?" Tyson said, looking around at the hundreds of sheep.

"In the tree!" Percy said. "The gold one!"

"Oh. Pretty. Yes."

Tyson lumbered over, careful not to step on the sheep. If anyone else had tried to approach the Fleece, they would've been eaten alive, but Naomi guessed Tyson smelled like Polyphemus, because the flock didn't bother him at all. They just cuddled up to him and bleated affectionately.

Tyson reached up and lifted the Fleece off its branch. Immediately the leaves of the oak tree turned yellow.

Tyson started wading back toward them, but Percy yelled, "No time! Throw it!"

The gold ram skin sailed through the air like a glittering shag frisbee. Percy caught it with a grunt before he spread it over Annabeth, covering everything but her face.

Naomi held her breath. Please, please, please.

The color returned to Annabeth's face. Her eyelids fluttered open. The cut on her forehead began to close. She saw Grover and said weakly, "You're not... married?"

Grover grinned. "No. My friends talked me out of it."

"Annabeth," Percy said, "just lay still."

But, despite everyone's protests, she sat up. Naomi saw that the cut on her face was almost completely healed, the stained yarrow buds falling soundlessly onto her lap. She looked a lot better—in fact, she almost shimmered with health, as if someone had injected her with glitter.

Meanwhile, Tyson was starting to have trouble with the sheep. "Down!" he told them as they tried to climb him, looking for food. A few of them were sniffing in the half-bloods' direction. "No, sheepies. This way! Come here!"

They heeded him, but it was obvious they were hungry, and they were starting to realize Tyson didn't have any treats for them. They wouldn't hold out forever with so much fresh meat nearby.

"We have to go," Percy said. "Our ship is..." The Queen Anne's Revenge was a long way away. The shortest route was across the chasm, and they'd just destroyed the only bridge. The only other possibility was through the sheep.

"Tyson," Percy called, "can you lead the flock as far away as possible?"

"The sheep want food."

"I know! They want people food! Just lead them away from the path. Give us time to get to the beach. Then join us there."

Tyson looked doubtful, but he whistled. "Come, sheepies! Um, people food this way!"

He jogged off into the meadow, the sheep in pursuit.

"Keep the Fleece around you," Percy told Annabeth. "Just in case you're not fully healed yet. Can you stand?"

Annabeth took Naomi's offered hand and tried, but her face turned pale again. "Ohh. Not fully healed."

Clarisse dropped next to her and felt her chest, which made Annabeth gasp.

"Ribs broken," Clarisse said. "They're mending, but definitely broken."

"How can you tell?" Naomi asked.

Clarisse glared at her. "Because I've broken a few, runt! I'll have to carry her."

Before anyone could argue, Clarisse picked up Annabeth like a sack of flour and lugged her down to the beach. Naomi, Grover, and Percy followed.

As soon as they got to the edge of the water, Percy concentrated on the ship. After a few minutes, Naomi spotted it rounding the tip of the island.

"Incoming!" Tyson yelled. He was bounding down the path to join them, the sheep about fifty yards behind, bleating in frustration as their Cyclops friend ran away without feeding them.

"They probably won't follow us into the water," Percy said. "All we have to do is swim for the ship."

"With Annabeth like this?" Clarisse protested.

"We can do it," Percy insisted. "Once we get to the ship, we're home free."

They almost made it, too.

They were just wading past the entrance to the ravine, when they heard a tremendous roar and saw Polyphemus, scraped up and bruised but still very much alive, his baby-blue wedding outfit in tatters, splashing toward them with a bounder in each hand.

"You'd think he'd run out of rocks," Percy muttered.

"Swim for it!" Grover said.

He and Clarisse plunged into the surf. Annabeth hung onto Clarisse's neck and tried to paddle with one hand, the wet Fleece weighing her down. Naomi brought up the rear, her attention bouncing between getting to the ship and the Cyclops bearing down on Percy and Tyson.

"You, young Cyclops!" Polyphemus roared. "Traitor to your kind!"

Tyson froze.

"Don't listen to him!" Percy pleaded. "Come on."

Percy pulled Tyson's arm, but he might as well have been trying to move a mountain. He turned and faced the older Cyclops. "I am not a traitor."

"You serve mortals!" Polyphemus shouted. "Thieving humans!"

Polyphemus threw his first boulder. Tyson swatted it aside with his fist.

"Not a traitor," Tyson said. "And you are not my kind."

"Death or victory!" Polyphemus charged into the surf, but his foot was still wounded. He immediately stumbled and fell on his face. It would've been funny, except he started to get up again, spitting salt water and growling.

"Percy!" Naomi called. "Come on!"

She and the others were almost to the ship with the Fleece.

Percy and Tyson prepared for a fight.

In the meantime, Naomi and the others reached the ship. Grover went up first, helping Annabeth aboard as Clarisse and Naomi tried to hurry Percy and Tyson onto the ship. There was a lot of yelling and roaring (courtesy of Polyphemus).

Clarisse urged Naomi onto the ship, and she reluctantly climbed onto the deck with the daughter of Ares right behind her, the two joining Grover and Annabeth as they watched Percy and Tyson fight Polyphemus.

They managed to subdue him long enough to run for the surf.

"I will smash you!" Polyphemus yelled, doubling over in pain. His enormous hands cupped over his eye.

Tyson and Percy plunged into the waves.

"Where are you?" Polyphemus screamed. He picked up a tree and threw it into the water. It splashed off to their right.

Percy summoned up a current to carry him and Tyson, and they started gaining speed.

"Yeah, Jackson!" Clarisse shouted. "In your face, Cyclops!"

"Rarrr!" Polyphemus picked up a boulder. He threw it toward the sound of Clarisse's voice, but it fell short, narrowly missing Tyson and Percy.

"Yeah, yeah!" Clarisse taunted. "You throw like a wi—"

Kissing her life and hand goodbye, Naomi leaped onto Clarisse's back, slapping a hand over her mouth to get her to stop talking. Even through the muffle of Naomi's hand, she cringed at the furious curses that Clarisse tried to spew at her, trying to buck her off like a wild horse.

Unfortunately, Naomi's risk was all for nothing. Polyphemus threw another boulder, and it crashed into the Queen Anne's Revenge.

The ship sank faster than Naomi thought possible. Within seconds, she was struggling to keep her head above water, thanking the gods Ethan had taught her how to doggy paddle. However, as she was just now finding out, sinking ships acted like sinkholes, pulling everything down with it.

Including Naomi and her friends.

Her head went under the water, the force of the shipwreck pulling her down even as she tried to swim back up. She saw her friends in the same trouble, fighting against the pull, but it was no use. Naomi was already starting to feel dizzy from lack of air.

Moments before instincts took over and forced her to gasp, a hippocampus appeared. With the last of her energy, Naomi grabbed hold of the creature's mane, letting it pull her back up to the surface.

The creatures broke the surface of the water and raced away from the island. Naomi slumped against her hippocampus's neck, letting out a delirious laugh as she heard the Cyclops roaring in triumph, "I did it! I finally sank Nobody!"

Sure you did, buddy.

She fell asleep to the sounds of the sea and the heat of the sun all around her.

Naomi woke to water splashing her in the face.

She opened her eyes, blinking in the dwindling sunlight. Another splash hit her leg, and she looked over to see Annabeth trying to get her attention.

"This is as far as they'll take us," Percy said when he saw that she was awake. "Too many humans. Too much pollution. We'll have to swim to shore on our own."

No one was psyched about that, but they thanked Rainbow and his friends for the ride. Tyson cried a little. He unfastened the makeshift saddle pack he'd made, which contained his tool kit and a couple of other things he'd salvaged from the Birmingham wreck. He hugged Rainbow around the neck, gave him a soggy mango he'd picked up on the island, and said goodbye.

Once the hippocampi's white manes disappeared into the sea, they swam for shore. The waves pushed them forward, and in no time they were back in the mortal world. They wandered along the cruise line docks, pushing through crowds of people arriving for vacations. Porters bustled around with carts of luggage. Taxi drivers yelled at each other in Spanish and tried to cut in line for customers. If anyone noticed Naomi and her friends—six kids dripping wet and looking like they'd just had a fight with a monster—they didn't let on.

Now that they were back among mortals, Tyson's single eye had blurred from the Mist. Grover had to put on his cap and sneakers. Even the Fleece had transformed from a sheepskin to a red-and-gold high school letterman jacket with a large glittery Omega on the pocket.

Annabeth ran to the nearest newspaper box and checked the date on the Miami Herald. She cursed. "June eighteenth! We've been away from camp ten days!"

"That's impossible!" Clarisse said.

"Thalia's tree must be almost dead," Grover wailed. "We have to get the Fleece back tonight!"

Clarisse slumped down on the pavement. "How are we supposed to do that?" Her voice trembled. "We're hundreds of miles away. No money. No ride. This is just like the Oracle said. It's your fault, Jackson! If you hadn't interfered—"

"Percy's fault?" Annabeth exploded. "Clarisse, how can you say that? You are the biggest—"

"Stop!" Naomi yelled. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything!"

Clarisse put her head in her hands. Annabeth stomped her foot in frustration.

Part of Naomi wanted to be mad at Clarisse, just like Annabeth, but she couldn't. This quest was supposed to be Clarisse's, and Naomi and her friends had hijacked it.

"Clarisse," Percy said, "what did the Oracle tell you exactly?"

She looked up. Naomi thought she was going to tell him off, but instead she took a deep breath and recited her prophecy:

"You shall sail the iron ship with warriors of bone,

You shall find what you seek and make it your own,

But despair for your life entombed within stone,

And fail without friends, to fly home alone."

"Ouch," Grover mumbled.

"No," Percy said. "No... wait a minute. I've got it."

He dug into his pockets, only coming up with a single golden drachma. "Does anybody have any cash?"

Naomi, Annabeth, and Grover shook their heads morosely. Clarisse pulled a wet Confederate dollar from her pocket and sighed.

"Cash?" Tyson asked hesitantly. "Like... green paper?"

Percy looked at him. "Yeah."

"Like the kind in duffel bags?"

"Yeah, but we lost those bags days a—g—g—"

Percy stuttered to a halt as Tyson rummaged in his saddle pack and pulled out the airtight bag full of cash that Hermes had included in their supplies.

"Tyson!" Percy said. "How did you—"

"Thought it was a feed bag for Rainbow," he said. "Found it floating in sea, but only paper inside. Sorry."

He handed Percy the cash.

Percy ran to the curb and grabbed a taxi that was just letting out a family of cruise passengers. "Clarisse," he yelled. "Come on. You're going to the airport. Annabeth, give her the Fleece."

Naomi wasn't sure who looked more stunned as Percy took the Fleece letterman jacket from Annabeth, tucked the cash into its pocket, and put it in Clarisse's arms.

Clarisse said, "You'd let me—"

"It's your quest," Percy said. "We only have enough money for one flight. Besides, I can't travel by air. Zeus would blast me into a million pieces. That's what the prophecy meant: you'd fail without friends, meaning you'd need our help, but you'd have to fly home alone. You have to get the Fleece back safely."

Naomi could see Clarisse's mind working—suspicious at first, wondering what trick Percy was playing, then finally deciding he meant what he said.

She jumped in the cab, and after one last exchange with Percy, the cap peeled out in a cloud of exhaust.

The Fleece was on its way.

"Percy," Annabeth said, "that was so—"

"Generous?" Grover offered.

"Insane," Annabeth corrected. "You're betting the lives of everybody at camp that Clarisse will get the Fleece safely back by tonight?"

"It's her quest," Percy said. "She deserves a chance."

"Percy is nice," Tyson said.

"Percy is too nice," Annabeth grumbled, but Naomi could tell she was at least a little impressed.

"Come on," Percy said. "Let's find another way home."

That's when he turned and found a sword's point at his throat.

"Hey, cuz," Luke said. "Welcome back to the States."

His bear-man thugs appeared on either side of them. One grabbed Annabeth and Grover by their t-shirt collars. The other grabbed Naomi around the shoulders and tried to grab Tyson, but he dodged and roared at Luke.

"Percy," Luke said calmly, "tell your giant to back down or I'll have Oreius bash Grover and Annabeth's heads together."

Oreius grinned and raised Annabeth and Grover off the ground, kicking and screaming.

"What do you want, Luke?" Percy growled.

He smiled, the scar rippling on the side of his face.

He gestured toward the end of the dock, and Naomi noticed what should've been obvious. The biggest boat in part was the Princess Andromeda.

Dammit.

"Why, Percy," Luke said, "I want to extend my hospitality, of course."

Chapter 39: xiii. naomi breaks more bones

Chapter Text

THE BEAR-MAN TWINS HERDED THEM ABOARD THE PRINCESS ANDROMEDA. They threw everyone but Naomi down on the aft deck in front of a swimming pool with sparkling fountains that sprayed into the air. Agrius kept a hold on Naomi, despite her numerous struggles to wiggle out of his grip.

"Her hand," Luke told the bear-twin.

Naomi had no idea what he was talking about, but she got her answer a second later as Agrius grabbed her hand and squeezed until pain flared like fire from her palm to the tips of her fingers. Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt her bones break one by one.

"What are you doing?" Annabeth yelled.

The bear giant dropped Naomi's now broken hand as Luke smirked. "Can't summon your sword now, can you?"

"Screw you," Naomi seethed, gritting her teeth against the throbbing pain.

"So, the Fleece," Luke mused. "Where is it?"

He looked them over, prodding Percy's shirt with the tip of his sword, poking Grover's jeans.

"Hey!" Grover yelled. "That's real goat fur under there!"

"Sorry, old friend." Luke smiled. "Just give me the Fleece and I'll leave you to return to your, ah, little nature quest."

"Blaa-ha-ha!" Grover protested. "Some old friend!"

"Maybe you didn't hear me." Luke's voice was dangerously calm. "Where—is—the—Fleece?"

"Not here," Percy said. "We sent it on ahead of us. You messed up."

Luke's eyes narrowed. "You're lying. You couldn't have..." His face reddened as a horrible possibility occurred to him. "Clarisse?"

Percy nodded.

"You trusted... you gave..."

"Yeah."

"Agrius!"

The bear giant flinched. Naomi hissed as he tightened his grip on her. "Y—yes?"

"Get below and prepare my steed. Bring it to the deck. I need to fly to the Miami Airport, fast!"

"But, boss—" Agrius nodded nervously down at Naomi.

Luke muttered something under his breath, grabbing Naomi's other arm and practically snatching her away from the bear. "Go—or I'll feed you to the drakon!"

The bear-man gulped and lumbered down.

Naomi fought against Luke's grip. "Get your hands off of me, traitor!"

"Careful, Naomi," he warned. "The Lord wants you alive, but he never said unharmed."

Luke shoved her at one of the demigods on the deck—Chris Rodriguez.

"Don't let her out of your sight," Luke hissed at him. "Got it?"

Chris nodded, tightening his grip as Naomi tried to catch him in the gut with her elbow.

"Stop fighting," he hissed as Luke walked away.

"Go to Hades, traitor," Naomi snarled.

"You'll understand soon enough," Chris told her. "This is what has to be done."

"You can shove your stupid Kronos propaganda up your puga."

"You've been toying with us all along," Percy said, glaring at Luke. "You wanted us to bring you the Fleece and save you the trouble of getting it."

Luke scowled. "Of course, you idiot! And you've messed everything up!"

"Traitor!" Percy threw his gold drachma at Luke, who, expectedly, dodged it with ease. The coin sailed into the spray of rainbow-colored water.

"You tricked all of us!" Percy yelled. "Even DIONYSUS at CAMP HALF-BLOOD."

He uncapped his sword.

Luke just sneered. "This is no time for heroics, Percy. Drop your puny little sword, or I'll have you killed sooner rather than later."

"Who poisoned Thalia's tree, Luke?"

"I did, of course," he snarled. "I already told you. I used elder python venom, straight from the depths of Tartarus."

"Chiron had nothing to do with it?" Percy clarified.

"Ha! You know he would never do that. The old fool wouldn't have the guts."

"You call it guts? Betraying your friends? Endangering the whole camp?" Percy demanded.

Luke raised his sword. "You don't understand the half of it. I was going to let you take the Fleece... once I was done with it."

That made Percy hesitate. "You were going to heal Kronos."

"Yes! The Fleece's magic would've sped his mending process by tenfold. But you haven't stopped us, Percy. You've only slowed us down a little."

"And so you poisoned the tree, you betrayed Thalia, you set us up—all to help Kronos destroy the gods."

Luke gritted his teeth. "You know that! Why do you keep asking me?"

"Because I want everybody in the audience to hear you."

"What audience?"

Then his eyes narrowed. He looked behind him, and Naomi did the same. Luke's goons gasped at what they saw.

Above the pool, shimmering in the rainbow mist, was an Iris-message vision of Dionysus, Tantalus, and the whole camp in the dining pavilion. They sat in stunned silence, watching them.

"Well," Dionysus said dryly, "some unplanned dinner entertainment."

"Mr. D, you heard him," Percy said. "You all heard Luke. The poisoning of the tree wasn't Chiron's fault."

Mr. D sighed. "I suppose not."

"The Iris-message could be a trick," Tantalus suggested, but his attention was mostly on his cheeseburger, which he was trying to corner with both hands.

"I fear not," Mr. D said, looking with distaste at Tantalus. "It appears I shall have to reinstate Chiron as activities director. I suppose I do miss the old horse's pinochle games."

Tantalus grabbed the cheeseburger. It didn't bolt away from him. He lifted it from the plate and stared at it in amazement, as if it were the largest diamond in the world. "I got it!" he cackled.

"We are no longer in need of your services, Tantalus," Mr. D announced.

Tantalus looked stunned. "What? But—"

"You may return to the Underworld. You are dismissed."

"No! But—Nooooooooooo!"

As he dissolved into mist, his fingers clutched at the cheeseburger, trying to bring it to his mouth. But it was too late. He disappeared and the cheeseburger fell back onto its plate. The campers exploded into cheering.

Luke bellowed with rage. He slashed his sword through the fountain and the Iris-message dissolved, but the deed was done.

Luke turned his glare on Percy. "Kronos was right, Percy. You're an unreliable weapon. And unlike Naomi—you can be replaced."

Naomi wasn't sure what he was talking about, but Luke didn't give them much time to think about it. One of his men blew a brass whistle, and the deck doors flew open. A dozen more warriors poured out, making a circle around them, the brass tips of their spears bristling.

Luke smiled at Percy. "You'll never leave this boat alive."

"One on one," Percy challenged. "What are you afraid of?"

Luke curled his lip. The soldiers who were about to attack hesitated, waiting for his order.

Before he could say anything, Agrius burst onto the deck leading a flying horse. It was a pure-black pegasus with wings like a giant raven. The steed bucked and whinnied.

"Sir!" Agrius called, dodging a pegasus hoof. "Your steed is ready!"

Luke kept his eyes on Percy.

"I told you last summer," he said. "You can't bait me into a fight."

"And you keep avoiding one," Percy noted. "Scared your warriors will see you get whipped?"

Luke glanced at his men, and he saw that Percy had trapped him. If he backed down now, he would look weak. If he fought Percy, he'd lose valuable time chasing after Clarisse.

"I'll kill you quickly," the son of Hermes decided, and raised his weapon. Backbiter's blade glinted with an evil gray-and-gold light where the human steel had been melded with celestial bronze. He whistled at one of his men, who threw him a round leather-and-bronze shield.

He grinned at Percy wickedly.

"Luke," Annabeth said, "at least give him a shield."

"Sorry, Annabeth," he said. "You bring your own equipment to this party."

The shield was going to be a problem. Fighting two-handed with just a sword gave you more power, but fighting one-handed with a shield gave you better defense and versatility. There were more moves, more options, more ways to kill.

Luke lunged and almost killed Percy on the first try. His sword went under Percy's arm, slashing through his shirt.

Percy jumped back, then counter-attacked with Riptide, but Luke slammed his blade away with his shield.

"My, Percy," Luke chided. "You're out of practice."

He came at Percy again with a swipe to the head. Percy parried, returned with a thrust. Luke sidestepped easily.

When Luke lunged again, Percy jumped backward into the swimming pool. He blasted out of the deep end, straight at Luke's face.

The force of the water knocked Luke down, spluttering and blinded. But before Percy could strike, Luke rolled aside and was on his feet again.

Percy attacked and sliced off the edge of Luke's shield, but that didn't even faze him. He dropped to a crouch and jabbed at Percy's legs. Percy collapsed, his jeans ripped above the knee. Luke hacked downward and Percy rolled behind a deckchair. He tried to stand, but he faltered.

"Perrrrrcy!" Grover bleated.

Percy rolled again as Luke's sword slashed the deckchair in half, metal pipes and all.

Naomi watched helplessly as Percy crawled toward the swimming pool. Luke advanced slowly, smiling. The edge of his sword was tinged with red.

"One thing I want you to watch before you die, Percy." Luke looked at the bear-man Oreius, who was still holding Annabeth and Grover by the necks. "You can eat your dinner now, Oreius. Bon appétit."

"He-he! He-he!" The bear-man lifted Annabeth and Grover and bared his teeth.

That's when all Hades broke loose.

Whish!

A red-feathered arrow sprouted from Oreius's mouth. With a surprised look on his hairy face, he crumpled to the deck.

"Brother!" Agrius wailed. He let the pegasus's reins go slack just long enough for the black steed to kick him in the head and take flight over Miami Bay.

For a split second, Luke's guards were too stunned to do anything except watch the bear twins' bodies dissolve into smoke.

Then there was a wild chorus of war cries and hooves thundering against metal. A dozen centaurs charged out of the main stairwell.

"Ponies!" Tyson cried with delight.

Naomi had trouble fully comprehending what was happening. Chiron was among the crowd, but his relatives were almost nothing like him. There were centaurs with black Arabian stallion bodies, others with gold palomino coats, others with orange-and-white spots like paint horses. Some wore brightly colored T-shirts with Day-Glo letters that said PARTY PONIES: SOUTH FLORIDA CHAPTER. Some were armed with bows, some with baseball bats, some with paintball guns. One was bare-chested and painted entirely green. Another had googly-eye glasses with the eyeballs bouncing around on Slinky coils, and one of those baseball caps with soda-can-and-straw attachments on either side.

They exploded onto the deck with such ferocity and color that for a moment even Luke was stunned. Naomi wasn't sure whether they'd come for a battle or a party.

Both, apparently. As Luke was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool.

Luke's warriors scattered. Naomi ducked out of Chris's hold, which wasn't hard given the fact that he was in as much shock as everyone else. She punched him in the face with her uninjured hand and ran toward Percy, who was having trouble getting up with his wounded leg.

Luke was crawling out of the pool.

"Attack, you fools!" he ordered his troops. Somewhere down below deck, a large alarm bell thrummed.

Naomi knew they didn't have much time before they were swamped by Luke's reinforcements. Already, his warriors were getting over their surprise, coming at the centaurs with swords and spears drawn.

Tyson slapped half a dozen of them aside, knocking them over the guardrail into Miami Bay. But more warriors were coming up the stairs.

"Withdraw, brothers!" Chiron said. Naomi spotted Annabeth and Grover on his back.

"You won't get away with this, horse-man!" Luke shouted. He raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deckchair.

A palomino centaur hoisted Naomi and Percy onto his back, and another gathered Tyson.

Luke's warriors were organizing themselves into a phalanx. But by the time they were ready to advance, the centaurs had galloped to the edge of the deck and fearlessly jumped the guardrail, as if it were a steeplechase and not ten stories above the ground. Naomi was sure they'd die, but the centaurs hit the tarmac with hardly a jolt and galloped off, whooping and yelling taunts at the Princess Andromeda as they raced into the streets of downtown Miami.

Streets and buildings began to blur as the centaurs picked up speed. It felt as if space were compacting—as if each centaur step took us miles and miles. In no time, they'd left the city behind. They raced through marshy fields of high grass and ponds and stunted trees.

Finally, they found themselves in a trailer park at the edge of the lake. The trailers were all horse trailers, tricked out with televisions and mini-refrigerators and mosquito netting.

They were in a centaur camp.

Naomi and Percy dismounted their palomino ride, Percy swaying and sitting down immediately. Naomi collapsed next to him, careful of her broken hand.

"Dude!" said a party pony as he unloaded his gear. "Did you see that bear guy? He was all like: 'Whoa, I have an arrow in my mouth!'"

The centaur with the googly-eye glasses laughed. "That was awesome! Head slam!"

The two centaurs charged at each other full-force and knocked heads, then went staggering off in different directions with crazy grins on their faces.

Chiron sighed. He set Annabeth and Grover down next to Naomi and Percy. "I really wish my cousins wouldn't slam their heads together. They don't have the brain cells to spare."

"Chiron," Percy said, still a little stunned. "You saved us."

Chiron gave him a dry smile. "Well, now, I couldn't very well let you die, especially since you've cleared my name."

"But how did you know where we were?" Annabeth asked.

"Advanced planning, my dear. I figured you would wash up near Miami if you made it out of the Sea of Monsters alive. Almost everything strange washes up near Miami."

"Gee, thanks," Grover mumbled.

"No, no," Chiron said. "I didn't mean... Oh, never mind. I am glad to see you, my young satyr. The point is, I was able to eavesdrop on Percy's Iris-message and trace the signal. Iris and I have been friends for centuries. I asked her to alert me to any important communications in this area. It then took no effort to convince my cousins to ride to your aid. As you see, centaurs can travel quite fast when we wish to. Distance for us is not the same as distance for humans."

"So, what now?" Percy asked. "We just let Luke sail away? He's got Kronos aboard that ship. Or parts of him, anyway."

Chiron knelt, carefully folding his front legs underneath him. He opened the medicine pouch on his belt and started to treat Percy's wounds. "I'm afraid, Percy, that today has been something of a draw. We didn't have the strength of numbers to take that ship. Luke was not organized enough to pursue us. Nobody won."

"But we got the Fleece!" Annabeth said. "Clarisse is on her way back to camp with it right now."

Chiron nodded, though he still looked uneasy. "You are all true heroes. And as soon as we get Percy and Naomi fixed up, you must return to Half-Blood Hill. The centaurs shall carry you."

"You're coming, too, right?" Naomi asked.

"Oh yes, Naomi," Chiron said. "I'll be relieved to get home. My brethren here simply do not appreciate Dean Martin's music. Besides, I must have some words with Mr. D. There's the rest of the summer to plan. So much training to do. And I want to see... I'm curious about the Fleece."

Over by the campfire, Tyson let loose with a paintball gun. A blue projectile splattered against one of the centaurs, hurling him backward into the lake. The centaur came up grinning, covered in swamp muck and blue paint, and gave Tyson two thumbs up.

"Annabeth," Chiron said, "perhaps you and Grover would go supervise Tyson and my cousins before they, ah, teach each other too many bad habits?"

Annabeth met his eyes. Some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth said. "Come on, goat boy."

"But I don't like paintball."

"Yes, you do." She hoisted Grover to his hooves and led him off toward the campfire.

Chiron finished bandaging Percy's leg and took Naomi's hand to examine it. "I had a talk with Annabeth on the way here. A talk about the prophecy."

"It wasn't her fault," Percy said. "I made her tell me."

Naomi frowned, trying to figure out when they'd talked about a prophecy. She must have been asleep during this conversation.

Chiron's eyes flickered with irritation, but then weariness took over. "I suppose I could not expect to keep it secret forever."

"So am I the one in the prophecy?" Percy asked.

Chiron wrapped Naomi's hand in bandages, securing it with a clip. "I wish I knew, Percy. You're not yet seventeen. For now we must simply train you as best we can, and leave the future to the Fates."

Percy and Naomi looked at each other, both of them remembering the three old women on the highway.

"That's what it meant," Percy said.

Chiron frowned. "That's what what meant?"

"Last summer. The omen from the Fates, when I saw them snip somebody's life string. I thought it meant I was going to die right away, but it's worse than that. It's got something to do with your prophecy. The death they foretold—it's going to happen when I'm seventeen."

Chiron's tail whisked nervously in the grass. "My boy, you can't be sure of that. We don't even know if the prophecy is about you."

"But there isn't any other half-blood child of the Big Three!" Percy protested.

"That we know of."

"And Kronos is rising. He's going to destroy Mount Olympus!"

"He will try," " Chiron agreed. "And Western Civilization along with it, if we don't stop him. But we will stop him. You will not be alone in that fight."

"I'm just a kid, Chiron," Percy said miserably. "What good is one lousy hero against something like Kronos?"

Chiron managed a smile. "'What good is one lousy hero'? Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain said something like that to me once, just before he single-handedly changed the course of your Civil War."

He pulled an arrow from his quiver and turned the razor-sharp tip so it glinted in the firelight. "Celestial bronze, Percy. An immortal weapon. What would happen if you shot this at a human?"

"Nothing," Percy said. "It would pass right through."

"That's right," Chiron said. "Humans don't exist on the same level as the immortals. They can't even be hurt by our weapons. But you, Percy—you are part god, part human. You live in both worlds. You can be harmed by both, and you can affect both. That's what makes heroes so special. You carry the hopes of humanity into the realm of the eternal. Monsters never die. They are reborn from the chaos and barbarism that is always bubbling underneath civilization, the very stuff that makes Kronos stronger. They must be defeated again and again, kept at bay. Heroes embody that struggle. You fight the battles humanity must win, every generation, in order to stay human. Do you understand?"

"I... I don't know."

"You must try, Percy. Because whether or not you are the child of the prophecy, Kronos thinks you might be. And after today, he will finally despair of turning you to his side. That is the only reason he hasn't killed you yet, you know. As soon as he's sure he can't use you, he will destroy you."

"You talk like you know him."

Chiron pursed his lips. "I do know him."

Naomi stared at him. It was easy to forget just how old Chiron was. "Is that why Mr. D blamed you when the tree was poisoned? Why you said some people don't trust you?"

"Indeed."

"But, Chiron... I mean, come on!" Percy said. "Why would they think you'd ever betray the camp for Kronos?"

Chiron's eyes were deep brown, full of thousands of years of sadness. "Percy, remember your training. Remember your study of mythology. What is my connection to the titan lord?"

Percy shook his head. "You, uh, owe Kronos a favor or something? He spared your life?"

"Percy," Chiron said, his voice impossibly soft. "The titan Kronos is my father."

Chapter 40: xiv. hades... isn't the world's worst stepfather?

Chapter Text

AFTER THAT BOMB WAS DROPPED, Chiron sent Percy off to join Annabeth and Grover in chaperoning Tyson and his new crazy centaur friends, leaving Naomi and Chiron alone for the moment.

"I hear you met your mother," Chiron said.

Naomi nodded softly. "On the Sea of Monsters."

"Smart," he mused. "Few gods would go there to try to punish her."

"Why do they want to punish her?" Naomi asked. "Because she had a half-blood out of wedlock?"

Chiron's smile was tight. "No, it isn't that. It's the... circumstances surrounding your birth that concern them. And your fate."

"What circumstances?" Naomi asked. "What fate?"

Chiron sighed. "I cannot reveal it all, Naomi. I'm truly sorry for that. But I can tell you that... on the day you were born, the Fates visited your parents personally, and they gave you a prophecy."

Naomi stared at her mentor for a moment, letting that sink in. Quietly, she said, "I'm guessing the Fates don't make house-calls a lot?"

"Very rarely," Chiron agreed.

Naomi swallowed hard. "My... Persephone—she said she tried to shield me from my fate. What... what's going to happen to me?"

Chiron's expression was mournful, as if he were eulogizing instead of simply talking. "I cannot tell you," he murmured. "I swore not to, as did the rest of the Council. But... I will do what I can to ensure you are strong enough to face what you must."

"Does my prophecy have something to do with why Kronos is so insistent on me joining him?" Naomi asked. "Luke said I couldn't be replaced. Is... does my prophecy have something to do with Kronos?"

"Not your prophecy," Chiron told her. "I cannot speak of the Great Prophecy directly, either, but I can say... you have a role in it, too."

"You sound so sure," she said. "You didn't sound that sure when you talked about Percy's part in it."

"Most of the prophecy is cryptic, but the line that concerns you... I fear it can only mean you," Chiron told her. "The Fates confirmed it, the day you were born. It is why the gods seek to punish Lady Persephone, and to eliminate you."

"Eliminate me?" Naomi almost squeaked.

Chiron nodded grimly. "Most of the Olympian Council would rather see you dead now than risk you potentially bringing them down."

Naomi glanced nervously toward the sky. "Then why... why am I still alive?"

"The Council took a vote at the Winter Solstice meeting, after your claiming," Chiron informed her. "They voted seven to six to let you live."

Naomi blinked. "They voted on whether I lived or died... and this is the first I'm hearing about it?"

"A hard thing to bring up in conversation," Chiron said with a sheepish smile.

Naomi did the math in her head. "Thirteen votes... I thought there were only twelve Olympians?"

"Hades had a vote as well," Chiron told her, "since it was the Winter Solstice meeting."

"Let me guess," Naomi muttered, "he voted to kill me?"

"On the contrary," Chiron said. "He was one of the first to vote against killing you."

Naomi stared at the centaur for a moment, trying to wrap her head around that. "Hades... Hades voted for me to live? Isn't he supposed to hate me?"

"I'm as surprised as you are, Naomi," Chiron confessed. "Relieved, but still surprised."

Naomi couldn't quite believe it. Almost a year of being terrified her mother's husband was going to pop out of the woodwork and kill her for existing, and now she finds out he doesn't want her dead?

It was a lot to process. Almost as much as the fact that she'd been given some terrible prophecy as a baby, and she was part of another one now.

Naomi stared at her broken hand—at the ring she now held in her uninjured palm, the bronze metal gleaming in the sunlight. How much blood would stain the blade before she could stop fighting? How many lives was the war to come going to take? How many of those lives would she have to take?

Monsters were one thing, but the half-bloods on the Princess Andromeda... could she really fight them if it came down to it? They were mortal, just like her. They bled, just like her. Would she be able to kill them if she had to?

She was afraid of the answer.

"Chiron... should I be scared?" Naomi whispered.

Chiron's gaze was one of pity. "I fear we all should be afraid, Naomi. Very afraid."

They arrived back in Long Island just after Clarisse, thanks to the centaurs' travel powers. Naomi and Percy rode on Chiron's back, though they didn't talk much.

When they got to camp, the centaurs were anxious to meet Dionysus. They'd heard he threw some really wild parties, but they were disappointed. The wine god was in no mood to celebrate as the whole camp gathered at the top of Half-Blood Hill.

The camp had been through a hard two weeks. The arts and crafts cabin had burned to the ground from an attack by a Draco Aionius. The Big House's rooms were overflowing with wounded. The kids in the Apollo cabin, who were the best healers, had been working overtime performing first aid. Everybody looked weary and battered as they crowded around Thalia's tree.

The moment Clarisse draped the Golden Fleece over the lowest branch, the world seemed to right itself. A breeze rustled in the branches and made the grass and wildflowers on the ground dance. Everything came into sharper focus—the glow of fireflies in the forest, the sweet smell of the strawberry fields, the sound of the waves in the distance.

Gradually, the needles on the pine tree started turning from brown to green.

Everybody cheered. It was happening slowly, but there could be no doubt—the Fleece's magic was seeping into the tree, filling it with new power and expelling the poison.

Chiron ordered a twenty-four/seven guard duty on the hilltop, at least until he could find an appropriate monster to protect the Fleece. He said he'd place an ad in Olympus Weekly right away.

In the meantime, Clarisse was carried on her cabin mates' shoulders down to the amphitheater, where she was honored with a laurel wreath and a lot of celebrating around the campfire.

Nobody gave Naomi, Annabeth, or Percy a second look. It was as if they'd never left. In a way, that was probably the best thank-you anyone could give them, because if they admitted the trio had snuck out of camp to do the quest, they'd have to expel them.

(Silena and Katie did scold Naomi for not at least leaving a note.)

After the party ponies headed back to Florida, Chiron made a surprise announcement: the chariot races would go ahead as scheduled. They'd all figured they were history now that Tantalus was gone, but completing them did feel like the right thing to do, especially now that Chiron was back and the camp was safe.

Percy and Annabeth teamed up this time, with Tyson acting as pit crew. The Demeter cabin still refused to participate, but Naomi was more than okay with cheering her friends on from the sidelines. Her hand was almost fully healed, but the dirty look Lee shot her when she tried to participate in sword-fighting training had scared her out of doing anything until he deemed her hand okay.

Apollo kids were quite scary when it came to health.

On the morning of the chariot race, everyone was buzzing about the event, though they kept glancing nervously toward the sky like they expected to see Stymphalian birds gathering again. None did, though. It was a beautiful summer day with blue sky and plenty of sunshine. The camp had started to look the way it was supposed to: the meadows were green and lush; the white columns gleamed on the Greek buildings; dryads played happily in the woods.

Naomi sat down between Drew and Ethan, who were arguing about something—Naomi didn't bother to ask, since they were always arguing about something. Naomi was convinced Drew's love language was being mean.

"Who're we cheering for, Nay?" Silena asked, leaning forward to prop her chin on Naomi's head. "No, wait, let me guess—Percy and Annabeth."

"Stupid question," Drew said. "Of course she's cheering for them."

"Who're you cheering for, Drew?" Naomi asked. "Apollo? I heard Lizzy Canta's defending this time instead of Lee."

Drew's cheeks flushed pink. "Why would I care if Lizzy Canta's defending?"

"Because you get all googly-eyed whenever you look at her," Ethan said.

"I do not get googly-eyed, Nakamura," Drew seethed. "That's slander. I could sue."

"It's the truth," Naomi corrected. "Drew has a cruuuuuuuush."

"I'll kill you, Murphy," Drew threatened. "Don't think I won't."

"Drew and Lizzy sitting in a tree," Ethan sang, "K-I-S—ow!" He put a hand on the back of his head, glaring at Drew.

"Don't test me, bitch," Drew said.

"Language," Silena chided. "Now pay attention so you can watch your girlfriend get her butt kicked by Cabin Nine."

Drew blanched. "She is not my girlfriend, and Cabin Nine is not going to beat her!"

Naomi laughed at the red of Drew's cheeks. "Very convincing," she teased.

"Shut up," Drew mumbled.

"Shh," Ethan shushed her. "It's starting!"

They all looked up just in time to hear Chiron blow the starting signal.

Percy and Annabeth's chariot pulled out ahead within seconds of the starting signal, taking the first turn a full chariot-length ahead of the Ares chariot. Clarisse was busy trying to fight off a javelin attack from the Stolls.

The Apollo chariot came up on Percy and Annabeth's flank, but Annabeth threw her first javelin just in time to knock away a lead-weighted net coming their way. Before Annabeth could rearm herself, the Apollo warrior threw a javelin into their right wheel, snapping off some of the spokes. The chariot wobbled and lurched unsteadily, but somehow it kept going.

"They're toast," Ethan said, nudging Naomi. "Should've cheered for the Hermes chariot like me."

"They're in last place, dork," Naomi pointed out, nodding at the Stolls and Clarisse riding side-by-side. "Percy and Annabeth've got this."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "We'll see."

Percy and Annabeth's chariot was now neck and neck with Apollo, Hephaestus coming up close behind.

"C'mon, Charlie!" Silena cheered.

"Who's Charlie?" Naomi asked, confused.

"She means Beckendorf," Drew said. "Silena's got her own little crush."

Silena smacked Drew's shoulder. "Hush or I'll tell Lizzy you think about her when you listen to 'Speak Now.'"

Drew whirled around to stare at her, wide-eyed. "I told you that in confidence!"

"Perfect blackmail," Silena shot back.

Annabeth threw her second (of only three) javelins at the Apollo driver. Her aim was perfect, the projectile hitting the kid square in the chest, knocking him against Lizzy and sending them both toppling out of their chariot in a backward somersault. The horses went crazy, riding straight for the crowd.

Naomi and the rest of the spectators scrambled for cover. Ethan grabbed Naomi and covered her as the horses leaped the corner of the stands and the golden chariot flipped over. The horses galloped back toward their stable, dragging the upside-down chariot behind them.

"Thanks, Ethan," Naomi said, her heart rate slowing down gradually.

"No problem," he said, his cheeks tinged with pink—probably from the heat.

"Do you think Lizzy's okay?" Drew asked. "... Not that I care, or anything.

"She's an Apollo kid, she can sing herself better," Silena said dismissively.

Naomi looked back toward the race as Percy and Annabeth's chariot thundered into their final lap. The Hephaestus team continued to gain on them.

"This is it," Silena squealed. "Prepare to watch your best friends lose, Nay—Charlie's got them beat."

"It's not over yet," Naomi shot back, grinning. She cupped her hands over her mouth, yelling, "Go Percy! Go Annie!"

Drew snorted. "Annie? Don't let her hear that."

Naomi ignored her.

"Go Charlie!" Silena screamed.

Beckendorf grinned as he pressed a button on his command console. Steel cables shot out of the front of his mechanical horses, wrapping around the Athena chariot's back rail. The chariot shuddered as Beckendorf's winch system started working—pulling Percy and Annabeth backward while Beckendorf pulled himself forward.

Annabeth tried to hack at the cables, but they were too thick. The Hephaestus chariot was now dangerously close, their horses about to trample the Athena chariot underfoot.

Percy and Annabeth traded places, Annabeth taking over the reins and Percy uncapping his sword. He slashed through the cables like kite string. Their chariot lurched forward, but Beckendorf's driver just swung the chariot to the left of the Athena chariot and pulled up next to them. Beckendorf drew his own sword, slashing at Annabeth. Percy parried the blade away.

They were coming up on the last turn.

"They're never gonna make it," Ethan said.

"It's not over!" Naomi repeated. "Come on, Percy!"

The Hephaestus chariot was neck and neck with the Athena chariot, Ares coming up from behind, making up for lost time.

Beckendorf threw a leather pouch into the Athena chariot, and green smoke began to billow out.

"Greek fire," Silena said with a grin. "It's getting interesting. Let's go, Charlie!"

Percy pressed a button on his new watch, and it expanded on his wrist until it was a round war shield.

"What?" Silena demanded. "That's not fair!"

"All's fair in love and chariot racing," Naomi teased.

Percy raised his new shield and Beckendorf's sword clanged against it. His blade shattered.

Percy knocked him in the chest with the shield and sent him flying out of his chariot, tumbling in the dirt.

Naomi saw sparks coming out of the Athena chariot. Just in time, Percy flipped the pouch of Greek fire into the Hephaestus chariot. The driver made the smart choice and dove out of the chariot. It careened away and exploded in green flames, which seemed to make the metal horses short-circuit. They turned and dragged the burning wreckage toward Clarisse and the Stolls, who had to swerve to avoid it.

The Athena chariot took the final turn, and the horses thundered across the finish line.

The crowd roared.

Once the chariot stopped, Naomi tackled Annabeth in a congratulatory hug, both of them laughing gleefully. The rest of their friends mobbed them, chanting Percy and Annabeth's names until Annabeth yelled over the noise, "Hold up! Listen! It wasn't just us!"

The crowd didn't want to be quiet, but Annabeth made herself heard: "We couldn't have done it without somebody else! We couldn't have won this race or got the Fleece or saved Grover or anything! We owe our lives to Tyson, Percy's..."

"Brother!" Percy said, loud enough for everybody to hear. "Tyson, my baby brother."

Tyson blushed. The crowd cheered. Annabeth planted a kiss on Percy's cheek, which made the roaring get even louder.

"Get ready to pay up, Nakamura," Drew teased.

"I'm not paying until they start calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend," Ethan countered.

Naomi rolled her eyes, ignoring the twist in her stomach at their joking.

Annabeth's entire cabin lifted Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson onto their shoulders and carried them toward the winner's platform, where Chiron was waiting to bestow the laurel wreaths.

Chapter 41: xv. secure the forbidden daughter

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

A STORM RAGED THAT NIGHT, but it parted around Camp Half-Blood as storms usually did. Lightning flashed against the horizon, waves pounded the shore, but not a drop fell in their valley. They were protected again thanks to the Fleece, sealed inside their magical borders.

But the Fleece couldn't protect Naomi from her dreams.

She saw nothing but darkness, not even the suggestion of a shape in its depths. It was disconcerting, to see nothing in the dark—even in the dead of night without a light or even a star to light the world, Naomi could still see a few feet in front of her, her eyes always adjusting to darkness.

But not in this dream.

Part of her braced for a memory from the Bowry house, remembering the first time she'd had a strange dream like this. Freaky demigod dreams weren't all that uncommon, but that was the only one Naomi had had since discovering her divine parentage. She wasn't sure why, but with the level of nightmares Percy seemed to have, she wasn't complaining.

Until now.

A voice boomed in the darkness, like an explosion in an empty field: You have failed thrice to secure the girl.

Another voice, timid in comparison to the first, and cruelly familiar, answered: "We have contingencies in place, my lord. She will come to our side, one way or another. Our followers will make sure of that."

They better, the frightening voice sneered. She is the key to our victory. She must pledge herself to our cause. It is the only way.

"I understand, my lord," Luke said. "I won't give up."

No, you will not. And you shall not fail, either. Remember the prophecy. Secure the forbidden daughter.

Naomi woke with a start, the voice echoing in her ears as she sat up, narrowly avoiding bashing her head against the bunk above her.

Cabin Four was silent save for the sound of Asher's light snoring. It was early morning, the sky still mostly dark but just beginning to lighten up. Naomi took a deep breath of much-needed air, slipping out of her bed.

She was shaking, though she wasn't sure why. It hadn't been a nightmare, per se—though she knew the booming voice would haunt her from now on.

Kronos, she realized. It had to have been Kronos's voice, telling Luke to bring her onto their side, to not fail him again.

Naomi pulled on a hoodie, not bothering with shoes as she slipped quietly out of the cabin. She needed air—fresh, cool air.

How could Kronos still believe he could get her onto his side? She'd never join him, not after everything Luke had done, not after Kronos nearly got her closest friends killed. She wasn't eager to meet her step-dad again so soon, but she knew she'd rather die than join the titan and his army.

Naomi clenched her jaw. Kronos could try all he wanted—she'd never join him. Not in this millennium.

It was too early in the morning for campers—even the Apollo kids—to begin to mill about, so Naomi was startled to see Grover tearing through the green like his furry hindquarters were on fire.

"Naomi!" he called as soon as he spotted her.

Naomi jogged down the porch steps, frightened by the terror in his eyes. "Grover, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Annabeth—on the hill—she—she..."

Naomi didn't wait for an explanation. Annabeth had been on guard duty, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened to her—

She took off toward Half-Blood Hill, barely noticing when Grover didn't follow.

The whole camp seemed to be stirring—word was spreading. Something big had happened. Naomi didn't pay them any attention. Her only focus was on getting to Annabeth.

A small crowd had gathered, but Naomi shoved her way through it, narrowly avoiding punching a poor half-asleep Ethan in the face. As soon as she broke through, she spotted a girl on the ground, at the base of Thalia's tree. Another girl in Greek armor was kneeling next to her.

The girl in Greek armor looked up, and Naomi felt her heart settle back into her chest at the sight of familiar gray eyes looking back at her, full of tears and confusion, but most of all, full of life.

But if Annabeth wasn't hurt...

Naomi looked at the girl on the ground, trying to figure out who it was. She'd never seen her before, that much she was sure of. The girl had short black hair and freckles across her nose, dressed in clothes that were caught between punk and Goth—a black t-shirt, tattered black jeans, and a leather jacket with badges from a bunch of bands Naomi had never even heard of.

The thing that didn't match her grungy aesthetic was the amount of flower buds and petals decorating her front. Naomi recognized them all—calendulas, yarrow, marigolds... begonias.

Annabeth looked at something behind Naomi, getting to her feet. "It... she... just suddenly there..."

Naomi knelt down next to the girl, even as no one else moved toward her. She touched her forehead, wincing at how cold it was to the touch, then at the strange tingling in Naomi's fingertips.

"It's true," Grover said, panting. "I can't believe..."

Someone else knelt down on the girl's other side.

"She needs nectar and ambrosia," Percy said. He took the girl by the shoulders and lifted her into a sitting position, resting her head on his shoulder.

He looked at the crowd, still standing there, stunned. "Come on! What's wrong with you people? Let's get her to the Big House."

No one moved, not even Chiron.

Then the girl took a shaky breath. She coughed and opened her mouth.

Her eyes were startlingly blue—electric blue.

The girl looked between Naomi and Percy in bewilderment, shivering and wild-eyed. "Who—?"

"I'm Percy," Percy said. "This is Naomi. You're safe now."

"Strangest dream..."

"It's okay," Naomi said softly.

"Dying."

"No," Percy assured her. "You're okay. What's your name?"

The girl stared at Percy, and Naomi felt the air thicken like another, far worse storm was on the horizon.

"I am Thalia," she said. "Daughter of Zeus."

Notes:

END OF ACT TWO

Chapter 42: ACT THREE: The Titan's Curse

Chapter Text

"πάθει μάθος

(there is learning in suffering)"

― aeschylus

Chapter 43: i. naomi murphy, the oblivious romantic

Chapter Text

IT HAD TAKEN A FULL WEEK of begging and compromising and bargaining, but finally, Chiron agreed to let Naomi tag along on the Westover Hall extraction mission.

Naomi woke that morning eager for the day ahead. She blamed the boredom that had settled over Camp Half-Blood like snow on the ground. The school year tended to get boring when all the summer-only campers went back to their families, but this year had been a new kind of slow.

Campers were going missing—or ditching, as Drew pointed out in her usual pessimistic way.

Five unclaimed kids from the Hermes cabin, one Hephaestus kid, one Apollo kid, two Ares kids, and even one of Naomi's own cabinmates—Heather Rhodes, a daughter of Demeter who'd only arrived at camp that fall—had all disappeared without a trace.

Because of that, campers were on high alert. Peleus, the newly appointed dragon guard of the Golden Fleece, was still only the size of a regular dog, so Chiron had established a rotating border patrol to keep the camp safe—and, as sinister as it sounded, to keep the campers inside.

As soon as Naomi had gotten dressed, she found Drew on the front porch of her cabin and convinced her to braid her hair before they went to get breakfast.

Afterward, Naomi found herself sitting at the canoe lake with Ethan, waiting for her ride.

"When's Percy's mom coming to pick you up?" Ethan asked, swinging his legs underneath the pier, his worn sneakers dangerously close to the water's surface—and the mischievous naiads who liked to pull pranks about as much as the Stolls.

"Eleven," Naomi said, double-checking the wristwatch Silena had gotten her for her birthday. It was still only nine-thirty. Thirty more minutes until she saw her best friends again. "They have to pick up Annabeth and Thalia from their school first, then me, then we'll be on the road to Maine."

"I still can't believe Chiron's letting you go," Ethan said.

"I may have had to fake tears in order to get him to let me," Naomi admitted. "Sometimes being a crybaby is a blessing instead of a curse."

Ethan snorted. "Just be careful," he said. He scooped up one of his own stones, flinging it across the lake's surface. It failed to skip even once, sinking as soon as it hit the water. "Dammit."

Naomi giggled, throwing her first stone. She watched it bounce once before sinking—not much better than Ethan, but she still smirked at him triumphantly.

"I'm always careful," she told him. She watched him skip his next stone—or rather, throw it, since this one didn't skip either.

"I mean it, Nay," Ethan said, more serious than Naomi was used to him being. "You can't leave me here to deal with Drew on my own. I'll crack."

Naomi laughed. Her next stone skipped twice. "Don't act like you wouldn't love time alone with Drew," she teased, bumping his shoulder with her own.

"Why would I want alone time with Drew?" Ethan asked incredulously. "She'd probably throw me off the rock-climbing wall without you there to convince her not to."

"She's not that homicidal," Naomi said. "And she'd only do that if you annoyed her, so just don't do that and you'll be fine."

"So you're saying I just shouldn't speak in her presence?" Ethan asked.

Naomi snorted. "That's probably the safest bet," she said. "You sure know how to pick 'em."

Ethan's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Naomi raised her own eyebrow. "Your crush on Drew," she said. "Obviously."

Ethan blinked. "What? I don't have a crush on Drew."

He threw his next rock. It only skipped twice before it sank into the lake, the ripples pitiful looking.

Naomi gave him a disbelieving look. "Everyone our age has a crush on Drew."

"Do you?"

"Well, no—but that's 'cause she's like my sister," Naomi said. "It'd be weird."

"Well, who do you have a crush on?" Ethan asked, watching her skip her next stone. This one skipped four times—still not her personal best, but she was getting there. "No, wait, don't tell me—it's Percy, right?"

Naomi glared at him, her face heating up. "I do not have a crush on Percy."

"Your face says different," Ethan said.

She glared harder. "He's my best friend. That's it."

"Sure," Ethan said, drawing out the 'u.'

"Don't think you can avoid the question," Naomi said. "If you don't have a crush on Drew, who do you have a crush on?"

"I don't have a crush on anyone," Ethan protested, but the flush in his cheeks gave him away.

"Your face says different," she teased. She poked him in the arm before skipping her last stone. Five skips—no personal records beaten today.

"My face doesn't say anything," Ethan grumbled.

"It says you have a crush and you don't want to tell me," Naomi said.

Ethan rolled his eyes, but the blush remained. "Shut up."

"Seriously, who is it?" Naomi pressed. "Is it Miranda?"

Ethan looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "Miranda?"

Naomi shrugged. "You come to the greenhouse a lot—is it to see her?"

"I don't go to the greenhouse a lot," he protested weakly.

"Oh, please, I see you there almost every day," Naomi said.

"I don't have a crush on Miranda."

"Asher?"

"I don't have a crush on Asher, either."

"Well, you have a crush on someone," Naomi insisted. "You wouldn't be getting all flustered right now if you didn't."

"I'm not flustered!"

"Liar," Naomi teased.

Ethan rolled his eyes. "You're annoying."

"I'm right," Naomi corrected. "That's why you're annoyed."

He narrowed his eye at her, but there was no anger in it.

"Seriously, who is it?" Naomi practically begged. "It's not Silena, is it? Because not only is she way out of your league—no offense, but we both know it's true—she's also like my sister, so, if you have a crush on her, I'm not sure I even want to know about it."

"I don't have a crush on Silena," Ethan said firmly.

"Good," Naomi said.

"Good?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "It'd be weird if you had a crush on her. Plus, she and Beckendorf are definitely going to end up together eventually, and he could snap you like a twig."

"Beckendorf could snap anyone like a twig," Ethan protested. "Not just me."

Naomi laughed. "You have a point," she conceded. "Seriously, Ethan. Who is it?"

"I—I can't tell you."

"Why not?" Naomi all but whined. "Ethan, we're friends, you can tell me anything."

"I really can't," Ethan muttered.

"Please?" Naomi begged. "It'll drive me crazy if you don't tell me! Do you really want me to go on a super dangerous quest while I'm distracted?"

"You're just doing an extraction," Ethan reminded her.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "It could still be dangerous," she said. "If I don't make it back, do you really want your last memory of me to be you refusing to tell me who your crush is?"

"Don't say that, Nay," he said, skimming the toe of his sneaker against the water's surface.

"Ethan, please tell me," Naomi pleaded. "I won't tell anyone, I promise! It'll be our secret!"

"You're annoying," he said again, but Naomi didn't believe it for a second.

"I'll stop being annoying if you tell me," she bargained.

"I can't tell you!" Ethan insisted.

"Why not?"

Ethan didn't answer. Naomi was a second away from admitting defeat and dropping the subject.

And then he kissed her.

Naomi had never been kissed before, so she didn't have anything to compare it to. Drew had, though, and she'd gushed about it to Naomi right after it happened. She'd said she felt sparks and butterflies and like she was floating on a cloud when Lizzy from Apollo finally got up the nerve to kiss her.

But Naomi didn't feel any of that. All she felt were... lips.

It didn't last long—probably not even two seconds. Neither of them spoke, the only sound around them the gentle movement of the lake and the birds singing in the trees several yards away. Naomi half-expected the Naiads to poke their heads up and start teasing them, because they'd done that to other couples before (namely Lee and his Ares boyfriend, Jordan, who frequented the canoe lake for their date nights).

But the lake remained still.

Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but someone else spoke first, startling both of them out of their stupor and almost into the lake.

"Naomi, there you are!" Silena exclaimed, marching up the pier with an unimpressed look on her face. "Percy's mom's gonna be here any minute. C'mon, I told Chiron I'd walk you to Half-Blood Hill."

Naomi looked down at her watch—nine fifty-five. "Shit," she mumbled, scrambling to stand up. She grabbed her backpack, slinging it over her shoulder.

She turned to Ethan, who'd stood up as well. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire. "I—I have to go."

Ethan nodded. "Yeah," he said nervously. "Uh, yeah—uh, be—be careful."

Then—because today was surprise-Naomi-with-unexpected-affection day, apparently—he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek before hurrying off the pier, past a surprised Silena, and back toward the Hermes cabin.

"Um..." Silena looked between Naomi and Ethan's retreating figure. "What was that about?"

Naomi shook her head. "I—I don't know. He—Ethan... kissed me?" It came out like a question.

"Oh, finally," Silena practically huffed. She set off toward Half-Blood Hill, leaving Naomi with no other choice but to quickly follow.

"What do you mean, 'finally'?" she asked, nervously twisting her ring around her finger.

"He's been crushing on you since you came here, Nay," Silena said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I think just about everyone at camp's been waiting for him to get up the nerve to ask you out. It's obvious how much he likes you."

"It wasn't obvious to me!" Naomi protested.

Silena stopped as they reached the hill. No one was there yet, save for the two Ares kids on guard duty, and Peleus, who was chasing a butterfly around Thalia's tree like a reptilian puppy. They still had another minute or so until Sally was supposed to arrive.

"Nay, I love you, but you're kind of oblivious when it comes to romance," Silena said gently.

"I am not."

"You didn't realize Lee and Jordan were dating until I told you they were dating," Silena pointed out. "And they've never shied away from PDA."

Naomi stared at the grass. "Ethan... he really likes me?"

"Oh, yeah," Silena said. "The question is, do you like him back?"

Naomi looked up. "I—I don't know."

"Well, did you like kissing him?" Silena asked.

"I... I didn't hate it, but... aren't there supposed to be sparks or something?"

"Not always," Silena said. "Love's complicated. Sometimes it can be full of sparks and passions and excitement, other times it's like... coming home to a place you hadn't even realized was home. It can go both ways."

Naomi fidgeted with her fingers. She hadn't felt either of those things—it had just felt like an action, just two pairs of lips meeting for a brief second, then nothing.

"Don't worry about it for now," Silena said as Sally's car pulled up at the foot of the hill. Silena wrapped an arm around her and walked her down. "Do your mission, come back, and we'll talk about Ethan later, okay? And be careful."

Naomi gave Silena a small smile. "I will."

Chapter 44: ii. an army of mutant butterflies

Chapter Text

THERE WERE ONLY A FEW THINGS Naomi missed about life outside of Camp Half-Blood, and one of them was Sally Jackson.

In seventh grade, Percy's mom had been the closest thing to a mother Naomi had ever known, and while she'd since come to terms with the fact that her real mother was the queen of the Underworld, that hadn't dulled the light Mrs. Jackson had shone in Naomi's life.

It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Naomi hadn't seen her friends in months, but it was clear they were all too nervous about the mission to talk much. Luckily, Mrs. Jackson was more than willing to fill the silence with every embarrassing story she had from Percy's childhood.

Thalia wiped the fog off the car window as they approached Westover Hall. Apparently she'd call shotgun before they picked up Naomi, leaving Annabeth, Percy, and Naomi to share the back seat. And, of course, Percy and Annabeth had stuck Naomi in the middle seat because she was the smallest. The joys of being short.

"Oh, yeah," Thalia said. "This'll be fun."

Westover Hall looked like an evil queen's castle. It was all black stone with towers and slit windows and wooden double doors like a mouth ready to swallow them whole. It stood on a snowy cliff overlooking this big frosty forest on one side and the gray churning ocean on the other.

"Are you sure you don't want me to wait?" Sally asked.

"No, thanks, Mom," Percy said. "I don't know how long it will take. We'll be okay."

"But how will you get back? I'm worried, Percy."

"It's okay, Mrs. Jackson." Annabeth smiled reassuringly. Her blonde hair was tucked into a ski cap and her gray eyes were the same color as the ocean. "We'll keep him out of trouble."

Percy's mom seemed to relax. Naomi couldn't blame her—Annabeth had a reputation for getting Percy out of bad situations.

"All right, dears," Sally said. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes, Mrs. Jackson," Thalia said. "Thanks for the ride."

"Extra sweaters? You have my cell phone number?"

"Mom—" Percy said.

"Your ambrosia and nectar, Percy? And a golden drachma in case you need to contact camp?"

"Mom, seriously! We'll be fine. Come on, guys."

"Bye, Mrs. Jackson!" Naomi said before she stepped out. "It was good seeing you."

"Oh, it was good seeing you, too, Naomi." Sally reached back and squeezed her hand. "Talk to Chiron about you coming to stay with us for Christmas. I'll make a call if I need to."

"I will," Naomi promised.

She got out with the rest of her friends. The wind blew straight through Naomi's coat and sweater like ice daggers. She sneezed into her elbow, groaning unhappily.

Being Persephone's kid was not fun during the winter. Not only did she get sick more easily, but as she'd discovered recently, her ability to summon flowers and plants was weaker, too, all because her mom was in the Underworld. It was seriously unfair.

Once Sally's car was out of sight, Thalia said, "Your mom is so cool, Percy."

"She's pretty okay," Percy admitted. "What about you? You ever get in touch with your mom?"

As soon as he said it, Thalia stiffened. She gave him an evil look. "If that was any of your business, Percy—"

"We'd better get inside," Annabeth interrupted. "Grover will be waiting."

Thalia looked at the castle and shivered. "You're right. I wonder what he found here that made him send that distress call."

"I doubt it's anything good," Naomi muttered.

The oak doors opened with a displeased groan, and the four half-bloods stepped into the entry hall in a swirl of snow.

"Whoa," Percy said.

Naomi couldn't help but agree. The school was huge. The walls were lined with battle flags and weapon displays: antique rifles, battleaxes, and a bunch of other stuff.

Naomi twisted her ring, already uneasy. There was definitely something wrong about this place.

Annabeth started to say, "I wonder where—"

The doors slammed shut behind them.

"Oo-kay," Percy mumbled. "Guess we'll stay a while."

Naomi could hear music echoing from the other end of the hall. It sounded like dance music.

They stashed their overnight bags behind a pillar and started down the hall. They hadn't gone very far when Naomi heard footsteps on the stone floor, and a man and woman marched out of the shadows to intercept them.

They both had short gray hair and black military-style uniforms with red trim. They walked stiffly, like they had broomsticks taped to their spines.

"Well?" the woman demanded. "What are you doing here?"

"Um..." Percy scrambled for an explanation. "Ma'am, we're just—"

"Ha!" the man snapped, which made Naomi jump. "Visitors are not allowed at the dance! You shall be eee-jected!"

He had an accent—French, maybe. He pronounced his J like in Jacques. He was tall, with a hawkish face, his nostrils flaring when he spoke. His eyes were two different colors—one brown, one blue.

Naomi figured he was about to kick them out, but then Thalia stepped forward and did something strange.

She snapped her fingers. The sound was sharp and loud. Maybe it was just her imagination, but Naomi felt a gust of wind ripple out of her hand, across the room. It washed over all of them, making the banners rustle on the walls.

"Oh, but we're not visitors, sir," Thalia said. "We go to school here. You remember: I'm Thalia, and this is Annabeth, Naomi, and Percy. We're in the ninth grade."

The male teacher narrowed his two-colored eyes, but he seemed hesitant.

He looked at his colleague. "Ms. Gottschalk, do you know these students?"

She blinked, like she'd just woken from a trance. "I... yes. I believe I do, sir." She frowned at the teenagers. "Annabeth. Naomi. Thalia. Percy. What are you doing away from the gymnasium?"

Before anyone could answer, Naomi heard more footsteps, and Grover ran up, breathless. "You made it! You—"

He stopped short when he saw the teachers. "Oh, Mrs. Gottschalk. Dr. Thorn! I, uh—"

"What is it, Mr. Underwood?" the man said. His tone made it clear he despised Grover. "What do you mean they made it? These students live here."

Grover swallowed. "Yes, sir. Of course, Dr. Thorn. I just meant I'm so glad they made... the punch for the dance! The punch is great. And they made it!"

Dr. Thorn glared at Naomi and her companions. He looked like he wanted to pitch them off the castle's highest tower, but then Mrs. Gottschalk said dreamily, "Yes, the punch is excellent. Now run along, all of you. You are not to leave the gymnasium again!"

They didn't need to be told twice. They left with a lot of Yes, ma'am's and Yes, sir's and a couple of salutes, just because it seemed like the smart thing to do.

Grover hustled them down the hall in the direction of the music. He hurried them to a door labeled GYM.

"That was close!" Grove said. "Thank the gods you got here!"

Annabeth, Thalia, and Naomi hugged him. Percy gave him a high five.

It was good to see him after so long. He'd gotten a little taller and had sprouted a few more whiskers, but otherwise he looked like he always did when he passed for human—a red cap on his curly brown hair to hide his goat horns, baggy jeans and trainers to hide his furry legs and hooves. He was wearing a black t-shirt that took Naomi a moment to decipher: WESTOVER HALL: GRUNT. She wasn't sure whether that was his rank or just the school motto.

"So, what's the emergency?" Percy asked.

Grover took a deep breath. "I found two."

"Two half-bloods?" Thalia asked, amazed. "Here?"

Grover nodded.

Finding one half-blood was rare enough. This year, Chiron had put the satyrs on emergency overtime and sent them all over the country, scouring schools from fourth grade through high school for possible recruits. These were desperate times. With the campers that they were losing, they needed all the fighters they could find.

The problem was, there just weren't that many demigods out there.

"A brother and a sister," Grover said. "They're ten and twelve. I don't know their parentage, but they're strong. We're running out of time, though. I need help."

"Monsters?" Naomi asked.

"One." Grover looked nervous. "He suspects. I don't think he's positive yet, but this is the last day of term. I'm sure he won't let them leave campus without finding out. It may be our last chance! Every time I try to get close to them, he's always there, blocking me. I don't know what to do!"

Grover looked at Thalia desperately.

"Right," she said. "These half-bloods are at the dance?"

Grover nodded.

"Then let's dance," Thalia said. "Who's the monster?"

"Oh," Grover said, and looked around nervously. "You just met him. The vice-principal, Dr. Thorn."

The gym floor was covered in black and red balloons. Guys were kicking them into each other's faces, or trying to strangle each other with the streamers taped to the walls. Girls moved around in groups, talking and giggling amongst themselves.

"There they are." Grover nodded toward a pair of younger kids arguing in the bleachers. "Bianca and Nico di Angelo."

The girl wore a floppy green cap, like she was trying to hide her face. The boy was obviously her little brother. They both had dark silky hair and olive skin, and they used their hands a lot as they talked. The boy was shuffling some kind of trading cards. His sister seemed to be scolding him about something. She kept looking around like she sensed something was wrong.

Annabeth said, "Do they... I mean, have you told them?"

Grover shook his head. "You know how it is. That could put them in more danger. Once they realize who they are, their scent becomes stronger."

Percy nodded. "So, let's grab them and get out of here.

He started forward, but Thalia put a hand on his shoulder. The vice-principal, Dr. Thorn, had slipped out of a doorway near the bleachers and was standing near the di Angelo siblings. He nodded coldly in the teenagers' direction, his blue eye almost glowing.

He was definitely suspicious. Great.

"Don't look at the kids," Thalia ordered. "We have to wait for a chance to get them. We need to pretend we're not interested in them. Throw him off the scent."

"How?" Percy asked.

"We're four powerful half-bloods. Our presence should confuse him. Mingle. Act natural. Do some dancing. But keep an eye on those kids."

"Dancing?" Annabeth asked.

Thalia nodded. She cocked her ear to the music and made a face. "Ugh. Who chose the Jesse McCartney?"

Grover looked hurt. "I did."

"Oh my gods, Grover. That is so lame. Can't you play, like, Green Day or something?"

"Green who?"

"Never mind. Let's dance."

"But I can't dance!"

"You can if I'm leading," Thalia said. "Come on, goat boy."

Grover yelped as Thalia grabbed his hand and led him onto the dance floor.

Annabeth smiled.

"What?" Percy asked.

"Nothing. It's just cool to have Thalia back."

Annabeth had somehow gotten taller since last summer—now, she was taller than Naomi and Percy. She didn't usually wear jewelry except for her Camp Half-Blood necklace, but now she wore little silver earrings shaped like owls. She pulled off her ski cap, and her long blonde hair tumbled down her shoulders. It made her look older, somehow.

"So..." Percy seemed to be trying to think of something to say. "Um, design any good buildings lately?"

Annabeth's eyes lit up, the way they always did when she talked about architecture. "Oh my gods, guys. At my new school, I get to take 3D design, and there's this cool computer..."

She went on to explain how she'd designed this huge monument that she wanted to build at Ground Zero in Manhattan. She talked about structural supports and facades and stuff—all things Naomi didn't have a chance of understanding, but she liked how Annabeth's eyes sparkled when she talked about architecture.

If Naomi was being completely honest, she was a little jealous of Annabeth and her new school. With Luke's Kronos-sponsored mission to kidnap her, Naomi was rarely able to leave camp—even this mission was pushing it. Despite the proximity of Annabeth and Thalia's boarding school to camp, Chiron still didn't think it was safe enough for Naomi to risk going to any school outside of camp.

Naomi understood—she wasn't keen on getting kidnapped by the Titan Lord and his traitorous minions—but it still sucked. She never imagined she'd feel this way, but she missed going to school.

She tried to push her negative thoughts away, refocusing on Annabeth. "So, you're staying there for the rest of the year?"

Annabeth's face grew dark. "Well, maybe, if I don't—"

"Hey!" Thalia called to them. She was slow dancing with Grover, who was tripping all over himself, kicking Thalia in the shins, and just generally looking like he wanted to die.

Naomi fought a laugh at her friend's expense.

"Dance, you guys!" Thalia ordered. "You look stupid just standing there."

"But there's three of us," Percy protested.

"Make that one of you," Annabeth said, grabbing Naomi's hand. "C'mon—I doubt you'll step on my feet as much as Percy would."

Annabeth pulled Naomi out onto the dance floor, leaving Percy with his mouth open in shock and mild offense.

"It's a slow dance," Naomi said, looking around at the other couples dancing—girls who looked like they were forcing smiles and boys who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else in the world. She didn't see any girls dancing together, and she didn't see any boys dancing together, either.

"Nothing gets past you, Nay," Annabeth teased.

"But—"

"It'll be fine," Annabeth told her, seeming to realize what Naomi was nervous about. She'd always been able to read people like open books—especially Naomi. "Girls dance together all the time. No big deal."

Of course, Naomi knew that. She'd danced with girls before. Silena had once tried to teach her and Drew how to waltz, leading to about half a minute of actual effort and a full five minutes of uncontrollable giggling to the soundtrack of Chopin's "Spring Waltz."

But the idea of dancing with Annabeth felt different than dancing with Drew or Silena. It felt like a big deal. It made Naomi feel like her stomach was performing its own waltz, leaving her lightheaded and maybe a tad nauseous.

Annabeth didn't give her any longer to psych herself out. She maneuvered Naomi's hands onto her shoulders and placed her own on Naomi's waist.

They swayed to the music. Naomi tried to focus on anything but the army of mutant butterflies that had come to life in her stomach—the streamers hanging from the rafters, the punch bowl, the music.

She was only a little successful.

"What were you saying earlier?" Naomi asked, hoping for a distraction. "Is everything okay at your school?"

Annabeth pursed her lips. "It's not that. It's my dad."

"Uh-oh." Naomi knew Annabeth had a rocky relationship with her father. "I thought things were getting better between you two. Is it your stepmom again?"

Annabeth sighed. "He decided to move. Just when I was getting settled in New York, he took this stupid new job researching a World War I book. In San Francisco."

She said this the same way Naomi would say St. Monica's.

"So, he wants you to move out there with him?" Naomi asked.

"To the other side of the country," Annabeth said miserably. "And half-bloods can't live in San Francisco. He should know that."

Naomi frowned. "Why not?"

"It's right there," Annabeth said, as if the problem was obvious. To a seasoned half-blood and walking encyclopedia like her, it probably was, but to Naomi—not so much.

Naomi decided she'd just ask someone else later. She didn't like looking dumb in front of Annabeth (no matter how easy it was). Instead, she just nodded like she understood. "Right. So... you'll go back to living at camp?"

"It's more serious than that, Nay," Annabeth said. "I... I should tell you something."

Suddenly she froze. "They're gone."

Naomi blinked. "What?"

She followed Annabeth's gaze to the bleachers—the empty bleachers. The door next to the bleachers was wide open, Dr. Thorn and the two kids, Bianca and Nico, nowhere in sight.

"We have to get the others!" Annabeth looked around frantically. "Oh, where'd they dance off to? Come on!"

"Find Grover and Thalia, I'll get Percy," Naomi said, scanning the gymnasium. After a few seconds, she spotted a familiar head of black hair in the middle of a gang of lipstick-wielding girls. Weaving through the crowd, she grabbed Percy's wrist and dragged him toward the bleachers, ignoring his startled yelp at being abruptly manhandled.

"What's wrong?" he asked, already reaching for his pen with the hand that wasn't held hostage by Naomi.

"The kids are gone, and so is Dr. Thorn," Naomi said. "Annabeth's looking for Grover and Thalia now. Do you see them anywhere?"

Percy looked around, starting to shake his head when he stopped, his eyes trained on something. He jerked his chin toward the bleachers.

Naomi followed his gaze. About fifteen meters away, lying on the gym floor, was a floppy green cap just like the one Bianca di Angelo had been wearing. Near it were a few scattered trading cards.

Then she caught a glimpse of Dr. Thorn. He was hurrying out of a door at the opposite end of the gym, steering the di Angelo kids by the scruffs of their necks, like kittens.

Naomi couldn't see Annabeth anywhere, or Grover and Thalia.

"We need to get the others," Naomi said.

Percy looked back, as if trying to spot one of their companions. His brow pinched together—a telltale sign he was torn between two opposing ideas.

"There's no time," he decided. "Come on."

"We can't go in there alone!" Naomi protested. "We don't know what that monster even is. What if he's too much for us to take on our own?"

"We can handle it," Percy insisted. "Come on!"

Naomi didn't have much choice in the matter—Percy grabbed her hand again and they ran after Dr. Thorn.

The door took them out into a dark hallway. Naomi heard the sounds of scuffling up ahead, then a pained grunt. She summoned Hemlock as Percy uncapped Riptide.

They jogged down the corridor, but when they reached the end, no one was there. Percy pushed open a door and they found themselves back in the main entry hall. They'd gone in a full circle. Dr. Thorn wasn't anywhere in sight, but there on the opposite side of the room were the di Angelo kids. They stood frozen in horror, staring right at Naomi and Percy.

Naomi lowered her sword, advancing slowly. "It's okay. We're here to help."

They didn't answer. Their eyes were full of fear, but of what? Naomi and Percy? And where was Dr. Thorn?

"My name's Percy," Percy said calmly. "This is my friend Naomi. We're going to take you out of here, get you somewhere safe."

Bianca's eyes widened. Her fists clenched. Too late, Naomi realized what she was trying to say without words—she wasn't afraid of Naomi and Percy.

She was trying to warn them.

The two whirled around and Naomi heard the sound of something like a giant whip hissing through the air. Percy was thrown to the side, slamming into the wall.

Naomi raised Hemlock, slashing with the blade, but all it made contact with was empty air.

A cold laugh echoed through the hall.

"Yes, Perseus Jackson," Dr. Thorn said. "I know who you are. You and your little bastard friend."

Naomi looked in the direction of the monster masquerading as a vice principal, scowling at the wholly unnecessary insult.

She risked a brief glance at Percy, who was pinned to the wall by some sort of black projectile. He couldn't seem to free himself, and his face was pinched with pain.

"Show yourself, coward!" Naomi called, hoping to stall long enough for Percy to free himself or for Annabeth and the others to catch up with them—whichever came first.

A dark silhouette moved toward them, and Dr. Thorn stepped into the dim light. He still looked relatively human, but his face had taken on a gaunt, almost ghoulish appearance. His perfect white teeth and brown/blue eyes reflected the light from Naomi's sword.

"Thank you for coming out of the gym," he said. "I hate middle-school dances."

Naomi charged, trying to get a clean cut through his neck like Clarisse had taught her during training, but he moved faster than her eyes could keep up with. He sent his elbow into the crook of her own, hitting it just right to force her fingers to uncurl. Hemlock fell noisily onto the linoleum floor, and he kicked it behind them.

Before Naomi could come up with a Plan B, a hand gripped almost too tightly around her throat, and another projectile shot from somewhere behind Dr. Thorn.

A few feet away, Bianca yelped. The second thorn impaled itself in the stone wall, a millimeter from her face.

"All four of you will come with me," Dr. Thorn said. "Quietly. Obediently. If you make a single noise, if you call out for help or try to fight..." His fingers tightened just a little more around Naomi's throat, forcing her breath to stutter. "You'll be seeing that stepfather of yours within the hour."

Chapter 45: iii. scary archer girls save the day

Chapter Text

NAOMI REALLY NEEDED TO start paying better attention during monster lessons. She couldn't figure out what kind of monster Dr. Thorn was—all she knew was he had some sort of projectile-throwing power and he was very fast.

Naomi tried to think of a plan. The way it looked, it was two against one, which should have been good odds—but they had to keep the di Angelo kids safe, and whatever monster Dr. Thorn was wasn't something Naomi wanted to underestimate.

Her sword hadn't reappeared on her finger yet—she suspected it would take another minute or so—time that she did not have.

She looked over at Percy, hoping he had some semblance of a plan, because she was blanking.

Percy closed his eyes, stopping in the middle of the hallway.

"What are you doing, Jackson?" Dr. Thorn hissed. "Keep moving!"

Percy opened his eyes and kept shuffling forward. "It's my shoulder," he said, sounding miserable, but Naomi didn't fully buy it. "It burns."

"Bah! My poison causes pain. It will not kill you. Walk!"

Both of the di Angelos looked petrified. Bianca looked back, meeting Naomi's eyes, and the terror in them made Naomi's heart sink. She remembered when that had been her—unaware of the divine world that existed within the mortal one, unaware that one of her parents was a god, unaware that that parentage guaranteed monster attacks wherever she went.

She wanted to tell Bianca everything would be okay—that they'd find a way out of this sticky situation and get her and her brother safely back to camp, just like they'd planned from the beginning. But Naomi knew better than to make false promises, so all she could manage was a reassuring smile.

Thorn herded them outside. Naomi regretted not taking the extra sweater Mrs. Jackson had offered—she'd taken the heat inside of the school for granted. She felt more than a little pathetic as she shivered against the cold, anxiously rubbing her finger as she waited for her weapon to return.

The monster marched them into the woods. They took a snowy path dimly lit by old-fashioned lamplights. Naomi tried to feel for any plants she could use to her advantage, but nearly everything was dead or dormant. The most she managed was making a wildflower pop pitifully out of the snow coating the grass.

"There is a clearing ahead," Thorn said. "We will summon your ride."

"What ride?" Bianca demanded. "Where are you taking us?"

"Silence, you insufferable girl!"

"Don't talk to my sister that way!" Nico said. His voice shook, but Naomi admired his courage nonetheless.

Dr. Thorn made a growling sound that was decidedly monstrous. Naomi hoped the shiver that ran up and down her spine looked like it came from the cold.

They kept marching on, through the thick snow and freezing winds.

"Halt," Thorn said.

The woods had opened up. They'd reached a cliff overlooking some body of water, if the sound of waves and the smell of saltwater were anything to go off of. That definitely boded well for their chances of survival—at least, Naomi hoped it did.

Dr. Thorn pushed them toward the edge. Percy stumbled, and Bianca caught him.

"Thanks," Percy murmured.

"What is he?" Bianca whispered. "How do we fight him?"

Percy met Naomi's eye. "We're... working on that."

Naomi's finger was still bare. Come on, come on, come on. How long was it going to take?

"I'm scared," Nico mumbled. He was fiddling with something—a little metal toy soldier of some kind.

"It'll be okay," Naomi murmured. "We've been in worse situations than this."

"Stop talking!" Dr. Thorn said. "Face me!"

They turned.

Thorn's two-toned eyes flittered hungrily. He pulled something from under his coat. At first, Naomi thought it was some kind of weapon, but it was only a cellphone. He pressed the side button and said, "The package—it is ready to deliver."

There was a garbled reply, like Thorn was talking into a walkie-talkie instead of a cellphone.

Percy glanced behind them at the drop.

Dr. Thorn laughed. "By all means, Son of Poseidon. Jump! There is the sea. Save yourself."

"What did he call you?" Bianca muttered.

"I'll explain later," Percy said.

"You do have a plan, right?"

Percy didn't answer.

Bianca looked at Naomi with wide eyes. "Do you have a plan?"

"...Working on it."

Percy looked down at the water again, clearly thinking hard.

"I would kill you before you ever reached the water," Dr. Thorn said, as if he knew whatever it was Percy was considering. "You do not realize who I am, do you?"

A flicker of movement behind him, and another missile whistled past. Something had sprung up behind Dr. Thorn—like a catapult, but more flexible... almost like a tail.

"Unfortunately," Thorn said, "you are wanted alive, if possible. Otherwise you would already be dead."

"Who wants us?" Bianca demanded. "Because if you think you'll get a ransom, you're wrong. We don't have any family. Nico and I..." Her voice broke a little. "We've got no one but each other."

"Aww." Dr. Thorn's voice was infuriatingly mocking. "Do not worry, little brats. You will be meeting my employer soon enough. Then you will have a brand-new family."

"Luke," Percy realized. "You work for Luke."

Dr. Thorn's mouth twisted with distaste. "You have no idea what is happening, Perseus Jackson. I will let the General enlighten you. You are going to do him a great service tonight. He is looking forward to meeting you."

"The General?" Percy asked, unconsciously mocking the monster's horrible French accent. "I mean... who's the General?"

Thorn looked toward the horizon. "Ah, here we are. Your transportation."

Naomi turned and saw a light in the distance—a searchlight over the sea. Then she heard the sound of helicopter blades chopping the air, growing closer and louder.

"Where are you taking us?" Nico said.

"You should feel honored, my boy. You will have the opportunity to join a great army! Just like that silly game you play with cards and dolls."

"They're not dolls! They're figurines! And you can take your great army and—"

"Now, now," Dr. Thorn warned. "You will change your mind about joining us, my boy. And, if you do not, well... there are other uses for half-bloods. We have many monstrous mouths to feed. The Great Stirring is underway."

"The Great what?" Naomi questioned, hoping to stall for time.

"The stirring of monsters." Dr. Thorn smiled darkly. "The worst of them, the most powerful, are now waking. Monsters that have not been seen in thousands of years. They will cause death and destruction the likes of which mortals have never known. And soon we shall have the most important monster of all—the one that shall bring about the downfall of Olympus!"

"Okay," Bianca whispered. "He's completely nuts."

"We have to jump off the cliff," Percy said quietly. "Into the sea."

"Oh, super idea. You're completely nuts, too."

Percy didn't get a chance to argue, because just then an invisible force slammed into them.

Like most things she did, Annabeth's move was brilliant. With her cap of invisibility, she plowed into the four of them, knocking them to the ground. For a split second, Dr. Thorn was taken by surprise, so his first volley of missiles zipped harmlessly over their heads. This gave Thalia and Grover a chance to advance from behind—Thalia wielding her magic shield, Aegis.

Naomi hadn't thought there could be anyone who was scarier to fight than Clarisse, but Thalia proved her wrong. She used a huge spear that expanded from a collapsible Mace canister, but that wasn't the scary party. Her shield was modeled after the one her father, Zeus, used—also called Aegis. The shield had the head of Medusa molded into the bronze, and even though it wouldn't turn you to stone, it was so horrible most people panicked and ran at the sight of it.

Even Dr. Thorn winced and growled when he saw it.

Thalia moved in with her spear. "For Zeus!"

Naomi thought Dr. Thorn was a goner. Thalia jabbed at his head, but he snarled and swatted the spear aside. His hand changed into an orange paw with enormous claws that sparked against Thalia's shield as he slashed. If it hadn't been for Aegis, Thalia would've been sliced to ribbons. As it was, she managed to roll backward and land on her feet.

The sound of the helicopter was getting louder, but Naomi didn't dare look.

Dr. Thorn launched another volley of missiles at Thalia, and this time Naomi could see how he did it. He had a tail—a leathery, scorpion-like tail that bristled with spikes at the tip. The missiles deflected off Aegis, but the force of their impact knocked Thalia down.

Grover sprang forward. He put his reed pipes to his lips and began to play—a frantic jig that sounded like something pirates would dance to. Grass broke through the snow. Within seconds, rope-thick weeds were wrapping around Dr. Thorn's legs, entangling him.

Dr. Thorn roared and began to change. He grew larger until he was in his true form—his face still human, but his body that of a huge lion. His leathery, spiky tail whipped deadly thorns in all directions.

"A manticore!" Annabeth said, now visible. Her magical Yankees cap had come off when she'd plowed into them.

"Who are you people?" Bianca demanded. "And what is that?"

"A manticore?" Nico gasped. "He's got three thousand attack power and plus five saving throws!"

Naomi had no clue what he was talking about, but she didn't have time to wonder. The manticore clawed Grover's magic weeds to shreds, then turned to Naomi and the others with a snarl.

"Get down!" Annabeth pushed the di Angelos flat into the snow. At the last second, Percy deployed his own shield, the thorns impacting against it with such force they dented the metal.

Naomi heard a thwack and a yelp, and Grover landed almost on top of Naomi with a thud.

"Yield!" the monster roared.

Naomi extracted herself from underneath Grover, summoning Hemlock, which had returned during the scuffle. "Keep dreaming!" she yelled, charging the manticore.

A second before her blade made contact with his chest, there was a thunderous noise and a blaze of light. The helicopter appeared out of the mist, hovering just beyond the cliffs. It was a sleek black military-style gunship, with attachments on the sides that looked like laser-guided rockets. The helicopter had to be manned by mortals, but what was it doing here? How could mortals be working with a monster?

The searchlights blinded Naomi. The manticore's tail swatted her away, knocking her into the snow harshly. Hemlock flew out of her grasp, lost once again.

"No!" Through blurry vision, Naomi saw Percy running toward her, parrying a strike just before it would've hit her in the leg. He raised his tattered shield over them, but Naomi knew it wouldn't be enough.

Dr. Thorn laughed. "Now do you see how hopeless it is? Yield, little heroes."

They were trapped between a monster and a fully armed helicopter. They were screwed.

Then she heard a clear, piercing sound: the call of a hunting horn blowing in the woods.

The manticore froze. For a moment, no one moved. There was only the swirl of snow and wind and the chopping of the helicopter blades.

"No," Dr. Thorn said. "It cannot be—"

His sentence was cut short when something shot past Naomi and Percy like a streak of moonlight. A glowing silver arrow sprouted from Dr. Thorn's shoulder.

He staggered backward, wailing in agony.

"Curse you!" he cried. He unleashed his spikes, dozens of them at once, into the woods where the arrow had come from, but just as fast, silvery arrows shot back in reply. It almost looked like the arrows had intercepted the thorns in mid-air and sliced them in two. But that was impossible—no one, not even Apollo's kids at camp, could shoot with that much accuracy.

The manticore pulled the arrow out of his shoulder with a howl of pain. His breathing was heavy. Percy rose and tried to swipe at him with his sword, but he wasn't as injured as he looked. He dodged the attack and slammed his tail into Percy's shield, knocking him aside.

Then the archers came from the woods. They were girls, about a dozen of them. The youngest was maybe ten, the oldest, about seventeen. They wore silvery ski parkas and jeans, and they were all armed with bows. They advanced on the manticore with determined expressions.

"The Hunters!" Annabeth cried.

"Oh, wonderful," Thalia muttered from a few feet away.

One of the older archers stepped forward with her bow drawn. She was tall and graceful with copper-colored skin. Unlike the other girls, she had a silver circlet braided into the top of her long dark hair, so she looked a little like a princess.

"Permission to kill, my lady?" she asked.

Naomi couldn't tell who she was talking to, but the girl kept her eyes on the manticore.

The monster wailed. "This is not fair! Direct interference! It is against the Ancient Laws."

"Not so," another girl said. This one looked a little younger than Naomi, maybe twelve or thirteen. She had auburn hair gathered back in a ponytail and strange eyes—silvery yellow, like the moon. Her face was so beautiful it made Naomi catch her breath, but her expression was stern and deadly. "The hunting of all wild beasts is within my sphere. And you, foul creature, are a wild beast." She looked at the older girl with the circlet. "Zoë, permission granted."

The manticore growled. "If I cannot have these alive, I shall have them dead!"

He lunged at Percy and Naomi, knowing they were weak and dazed.

"No!" Annabeth yelled, and she charged at the monster.

"Get back, half-blood!" the girl with the circlet said. "Get out of the line of fire!"

But Annabeth leaped onto the monster's back and drove her knife into his mane. The manticore howled, turning in circles with his tail flailing as Annabeth hung on for dear life.

"Fire!" Zoë ordered.

"No!" Naomi screamed.

But the Hunters let their arrows fly. The first caught the manticore in the neck. Another hit his chest. The manticore staggered backward, wailing, "This is not the end, Huntress! You shall pay!"

And before anyone could react, the monster, with Annabeth still on his back, leaped over the cliff and tumbled into the darkness.

"Annabeth!" Percy yelled.

He started to run after her, but their enemies weren't done. There was a snap-snap-snap from the helicopter—the sound of gunfire.

Most of the Hunters scattered as tiny holes appeared in the snow at their feet, but the girl with auburn hair just looked up calmly at the helicopter.

"Mortals," she announced, "are not allowed to witness my hunt."

She thrust out her hand, and the helicopter exploded into dust—no, not dust. The black metal dissolved into a flock of birds—ravens, which scattered into the night.

The Hunters advanced on Naomi and her remaining companions.

The one called Zoë stopped short when she saw Thalia. "You," she said with distaste.

"Zoë Nightshade." Thalia's voice trembled with anger. "Perfect timing, as usual."

Zoë scanned the rest of them. "Five half-bloods and a satyr, my lady."

"Yes," the younger girl said. "Some of Chiron's campers, I see."

"Annabeth!" Percy yelled. "You have to let us save her!"

The auburn-haired girl turned toward him. "I'm sorry, Percy Jackson, but your friend is beyond help."

"You don't know that!" Naomi tried to get to her feet, but two of the girls clamped semi-gentle hands on her shoulder, holding her down. A few others held Percy down as well.

"You two are in no condition to be hurling yourselves off cliffs," the auburn-haired girl said.

"Let us go!" Percy demanded. "Who do you think you are?"

Zoë stepped forward as if to slap him.

"No," the other girl ordered. "I sense no disrespect, Zoë. He is simply distraught. He does not understand."

The young girl's eyes seemed to glow brighter. "I am Artemis," she said. "Goddess of the Hunt."

Chapter 46: iv. naomi is offered an escape route

Chapter Text

AFTER SEEING DR. THORN TURN INTO A MONSTER and plummet off the edge of a cliff with Annabeth, you'd think Naomi would be used to surprises.

But finding out the twelve-year-old with eyes like the moon was the goddess Artemis still rendered her speechless.

"Um.. okay," Percy said intelligently.

That was nothing compared to Grover. He gasped, then knelt hastily in the snow and started yammering, "Thank you, Lady Artemis! You're so... you're so... Wow!"

"Get up, goat boy!" Thalia snapped. She glared at the Hunters holding Naomi down until they let up, then grabbed Naomi's hand and hauled her to her feet. "We have other things to worry about. Annabeth is gone!"

"Woah," Bianca di Angelo said. "Hold up. Time out."

Everybody looked at her. She pointed her finger at all of them in turn, like she was trying to connect the dots. "Who... who are you people?"

Artemis's expression grew softer. "It might be a better question, my dear girl, to ask who are you? Who are your parents?"

Bianca glanced nervously at her brother, who was still staring in awe at Artemis.

"Our parents are dead," Bianca said. "We're orphans. There's a bank trust that pays for our school, but..."

She faltered. She could probably tell from their faces that they didn't believe her.

"What?" she demanded. "I'm telling the truth."

Naomi stepped forward. "You guys are half-bloods," she explained gently, remembering when she'd been in Bianca's position—so sure she'd been an orphan, but being told she wasn't. It was more than just jarring—it was world-shattering. "I know it's a lot to take in, but it's the truth. One of your parents was mortal... the other is a god."

"Cool!" Nico said.

"No!" Bianca's voice quavered. "This is not cool!"

Nico danced around like he had ants in his pants. "Does Zeus really have lightning bolts that do six hundred damage? Does he get extra movement points for—"

"Nico, shut up!" Bianca put her hands to her face. "This is not your stupid Mythomagic game, okay? There are no gods!"

Naomi couldn't help but feel sorry for the di Angelos.

Thalia must've been feeling something similar, because the anger in her eyes subsided a little bit. "Bianca, I know it's hard to believe. But the gods are still around. Trust me. They're immortal. And whenever they have kids with regular humans, kids like us, well... Our lives are dangerous."

"Dangerous," Bianca said, "like the girl who fell."

Thalia turned away. Even Artemis looked pained.

"Do not despair for Annabeth," the goddess said. "She was a brave maiden. If she can be found, I shall find her."

"Then why won't you let us go and look for her?" Percy asked.

"She is gone. Can't you sense it, Son of Poseidon? Some magic is at work. I do not know exactly how or why, but your friend has vanished."

"Oo!" Nico raised his hand. "What about Dr. Thorn? That was awesome how you shot him with arrows! Is he dead?"

"He was a manticore," Artemis said. "Hopefully, he is destroyed for now, but monsters never truly die. They reform over and over again, and they must be hunted whenever they reappear."

"Or they'll hunt us," Thalia said.

Bianca shivered. "That explains... Nico, you remember last summer, those guys who tried to attack us in the alley in D.C.?"

"And that bus driver," Nico said. "The one with the ram's horns. I told you that was real."

"That's why Grover has been watching you," Percy said. "To keep you safe, if you turned out to be half-bloods."

"Grover?" Bianca stared at him. "You're a demigod?"

"Well, a satyr, actually." He kicked off his shoes and displayed his goat hooves. Bianca looked faint.

"Grover," Naomi said. "Put your shoes back on. Don't you think she's seen enough freaky stuff?"

"Hey, my hooves are not freaky!"

Naomi shook her head. "Bianca," she said, "we came here to help you guys. You and Nico need training to survive. Dr. Thorn won't be the last monster you meet. You need to come to camp."

"Camp?" she asked.

"Camp Half-Blood," Percy explained. "It's where half-bloods learn to survive and stuff. You can join us, stay there year round if you like. That's what Naomi does."

"Sweet, let's go!" Nico said.

"Wait." Bianca shook her head. "I don't—"

"There is another option," Zoë said.

"No, there isn't!" Thalia snapped.

Thalia and Zoë glared at each other. Naomi wondered what their history was, because she could feel the tension between them like an oncoming storm. They seriously hated each other.

"We've burdened these children enough," Artemis announced. "Zoë, we will rest here for a few hours. Raise the tents. Treat the wounded. Retrieve our guests' belongings from the school."

"Yes, my lady."

"And Bianca, Naomi—come with me. I would like to speak with you."

Naomi frowned, confused. What did the goddess of the hunt want with her?

"What about me?" Nico asked.

Artemis considered the boy. "Perhaps you can show Grover how to play that card game you enjoy. I'm sure Grover would be happy to entertain you for a while... as a favor to me?"

Grover practically tripped over himself getting up. "You bet! Come on, Nico!"

Nico and Grover walked off toward the woods, talking about hit points and armor ratings and a bunch of other geeky stuff.

Artemis gestured for Naomi and Bianca to follow her along the cliff.

When they were out of earshot of the others, Artemis said, "I wondered if we would get a chance to meet, Naomi Murphy."

Naomi blinked. "Um... why?"

Artemis smiled softly. "Your mother and I are old friends, my girl," the goddess said. "When I heard she'd had a half-blood child, I'll admit, I was a bit shocked. Aside from myself and my stepmother, Persephone was the last of the goddesses I would have expected to have a child with a mortal."

"Right," Naomi said quietly.

"Your mother's Persephone?" Bianca asked, confused. "Isn't that... isn't she married to Hades or something?"

"Precisely why Naomi's existence is... unique," Artemis told the girl. "And dangerous, too."

Naomi's confusion grew. "Dangerous? How am I dangerous? It's not like my mom's one of the Big Three."

"Big Three?" Bianca asked.

"Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades," Artemis explained. "Their demigod children are among the most powerful. But your mother does not have to be one of them for her child to be powerful."

"All I can do is summon flowers and tame hellhounds," Naomi mumbled. "That's it."

"That's all you know of," Artemis corrected.

Naomi's brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Artemis sighed softly. "I am not my brother, Naomi Murphy, but I know pieces of your fate. Nothing that I can reveal, but... I would never quite forgive myself if I did not offer you an... alternative."

Naomi frowned. "What alternative?"

Artemis looked back toward the camp. "Come. We will talk more in my tent. I could go for a cup of hot chocolate."

Within a few minutes, Bianca, Artemis, and Naomi were settled in one of the tents, a mug of fresh hot chocolate in their hands.

The tent itself was warm and comfy. In the center, a golden brazier of fire seemed to burn without fuel or smoke. Behind the goddess, on a polished oak display stand, was her huge silver bow, carved to resemble gazelle horns. The walls were hung with animal pelts—black bear, tiger, and several others Naomi couldn't identify. Naomi wondered if Grover's obvious crush would withstand seeing all of these skins, but then again, maybe Artemis's status as the goddess of the hunt meant she could replenish whatever she shot.

Artemis took a slow sip of her drink. "I believe this may be one of the greatest mortal inventions," she confessed, a small smile playing on her lips. "What do you think?"

"It's delicious," Bianca said.

Naomi took a sip, tasting a hint of Silena's homemade sugar cookies. "Is there nectar in this?"

Artemis smiled. "My secret recipe," she said with a nod.

"Um... can I ask something?" Bianca asked nervously.

"Of course, my girl," Artemis said. "You can speak freely in my presence."

Bianca nodded slowly. She looked between Naomi and Artemis. "What you were saying about... about our parents... is that really true?"

Artemis said nothing, and Naomi realized she wanted her to answer.

"It is," Naomi said gently. "I know how you feel, Bianca—I was raised in an orphanage since I was a baby. I never imagined one of my parents could be a god, but... it's the truth."

Bianca stared at her lap, clearly distraught.

"I know it's scary," Naomi murmured. "But you can talk to me if you need to—I'll help however I can. It's an easier transition when you have a friend."

Bianca looked up, and she smiled a little. "Thank you."

Naomi smiled. "Of course."

Artemis smiled at the two. "You and your brother are not alone, Bianca," she said. "That I can assure you of." She took another sip of her hot chocolate, then set it down next to her. "Before we go further, I must offer you both a choice."

"A choice?" Naomi asked.

Artemis hummed. "Just looking at you two, I can tell your fates will not be kind. I am the patron goddess of maidens, and so, whenever possible, I feel it is my duty to extend an... alternative course of action, when I come across a maiden in need."

"What kind of alternative?" Bianca asked, curious.

"I would like to extend the two of you invitations to join my Hunt," Artemis said.

Bianca blinked. "What... what does that mean?"

"It means you would become one of my Hunters," Artemis explained. "You would live forever as my companions, hunting monsters and animals alike throughout the world, unless you were to fall in battle or break your oaths."

"Oaths?" Naomi asked.

"To forswear romantic love forever," Artemis said. "To never grow up, never get married. To be a maiden eternally."

"That... we would really be immortal?" Bianca asked. "Young forever?"

Artemis nodded again. "You would be my sisters-in-arms, following me on my adventures. You would be trained just as you would be trained at Camp Half-Blood, protected by your sisters from monsters and enemies until you are strong enough to protect them back. It is a great honor."

Naomi didn't doubt that. It sounded like some kind of paradise. No more fear of monsters, no more worrying about some cryptic fate. She doubted Luke and Kronos would be able to get through a goddess and her companions to abduct her.

But... that would mean saying goodbye to Camp Half-Blood. To Percy, to Annabeth, to Silena and Drew and... and Ethan.

Naomi didn't think she loved him—not the way he probably wanted her to. But she didn't want to say goodbye to him forever.

Her mother had told her she'd tried to shield her from her fate, one no one seemed keen on explaining. What could be ahead of her so terrible that everyone was too afraid to speak of it?

"Lady Artemis... did my mother ask you to do this?" Naomi asked softly.

The look Artemis gave her was one of concealed pity. "She... made a suggestion."

Naomi stared at the tent floor. Somehow, she wasn't too surprised. Or even angry, like she thought she would be. The fact that her mother had spoken to Artemis about this... as much as she wanted to, Naomi couldn't deny it: her mother really cared.

"I will give you two time to think on it," Artemis said. "It is a big decision—one I beg you not to make lightly."

Bianca and Naomi both nodded slowly.

"Now, onto a slightly darker topic—tell me about your encounter with the manticore."

Naomi took over the explanation, telling the goddess about the things Dr. Thorn had said—about the so-called Great Stirring, Dr. Thorn's threats, etc.

Halfway through, Zoë walked inside, standing at Artemis's side like a sentinel on duty.

When Naomi was done, Artemis placed a hand thoughtfully on her silver bow. "I feared this was the answer."

"The scent, my lady?" Zoë asked.

"Yes."

"What scent?" Naomi asked.

"Things are stirring that I have not hunted in millennia," Artemis murmured. "Prey so old I have nearly forgotten."

She stared at Naomi intently. "We came here tonight sensing the manticore, but he was not the one I seek. Tell me again, exactly what Dr. Thorn said."

"He said someone called the General was going to explain things," Naomi said.

Zoë's face paled. She turned to Artemis and started to say something, but Artemis raised her hand.

"Go on, Naomi," the goddess said.

"Well, then Thorn was talking about the Great Stirring, and he said, 'Soon we shall have the most important monster of all—the one that shall bring about the downfall of Olympus.'"

The goddess was so still she could've been a statue.

"He might have been bluffing," Naomi suggested weakly.

Artemis shook her head. "No. He was not. I've been too slow to see the signs. I must hunt this monster."

Zoë looked like she was trying very hard to not be afraid, but she nodded. "We will leave right away, my lady."

"No, Zoë. I must do this alone."

"But, Artemis—"

"This task is too dangerous even for the Hunters. You know where I must start my search. You cannot go there with me."

"As... as you wish, my lady."

"I will find this creature," Artemis vowed. "And I shall bring it back to Olympus by winter solstice. It will be all the proof I need to convince the Council of the Gods of how much danger we are in."

"You know what the monster is?" Naomi asked.

Artemis gripped her bow. "Let us pray I am wrong. Zoë, please bring the Jackson boy here."

A look of displeasure flickered across the girl's face, but she nodded. "Of course, my lady."

She disappeared through the tent flap.

"Lady Artemis... how much danger are we in?" Naomi asked nervously.

Artemis's expression was grim. "I fear if I told you, it would unfairly sway your decision."

Naomi stared at her, unsettled. "That's... comforting."

"Finish your hot chocolates, my girls," Artemis said kindly. "It is cold out there."

Naomi and Bianca looked at each other, then obediently drank their hot chocolates.

Zoë returned a few minutes later with Percy in tow, Zoë barely hiding a sneer as she went back to Artemis's side.

"Are you okay?" Percy whispered as he sat down next to Naomi.

Naomi nodded, even though it was definitely a lie.

"I must ask you to forgive my Hunters if they do not welcome you, Percy Jackson," Artemis said, looking at Zoë with a stern look. "It is very rare that we would have boys in this camp. Boys are usually forbidden to have any contact with the Hunters. The last one to see this camp..." She looked at Zoë again. "Which one was it?"

"That boy in Colorado," Zoë said. "You turned him into a jackalope."

"Ah, yes." Artemis nodded, satisfied. "I enjoy making jackalopes. At any rate, Percy, I've asked you here to ask a favor of you."

"Does it involve getting turned into a jackalope?" Percy asked.

"Sadly, no. I want you to escort the Hunters back to Camp Half-Blood. They can stay there in safety until I return."

"What?" Zoë blurted out. "But, Artemis, we hate that place. The last time we stayed there—"

"Yes, I know," Artemis said. "But I'm sure Dionysus will not hold a grudge because of a little, ah, misunderstanding. It's your right to use Cabin Eight whenever you are in need. Besides, I hear they rebuilt the cabins you burned down."

Zoë muttered something about foolish campers.

"And now there are two last decisions to make." Artemis turned back to Naomi and Bianca. "Have you made up your minds?"

Bianca hesitated. "I'm still thinking about it."

"Wait," Percy said. "Thinking about what?"

"They... they've invited us to join the Hunt."

Percy looked between her and Naomi, his brow furrowed. "What? But you can't! You have to come back to Camp Half-Blood. It's the only way you can learn to survive."

"It is not the only way for a girl," Zoë said.

Percy shook his head in disbelief. "Nay, you can't—Camp Half-Blood's your home! I mean, what do you get by joining the Hunters?"

"To begin with," Zoë said, "immortality."

Percy stared at her, then Artemis. "She's kidding, right?"

"Zoë rarely kids about anything," Artemis said. "My Hunters follow me on my adventures. They are my maidservants, my companions, my sisters-in-arms. Once they swear loyalty to me, they are indeed immortal... unless they fall in battle, which is unlikely. Or break their oath."

"What oath?" Percy said.

"To forswear romantic love forever," Artemis said. "To never grow up, never get married. To be a maiden eternally."

"Like you?"

The goddess nodded.

"So... you just go around the country recruiting half-bloods—"

"Not just half-bloods," Zoë interrupted. "Lady Artemis does not discriminate by birth. All who honor the goddess may join. Half-bloods, nymphs, mortals—"

"Which are you, then?"

Anger flashed in Zoë's eyes. "That is not thy concern, boy. The point is Bianca and Naomi may join if they wish. It is their choice."

"But—but this is crazy!" Percy protested. "Bianca, what about your brother? Nico can't be a Hunter."

"Certainly not," Artemis agreed. "He will go to camp. Unfortunately, that's the best boys can do."

"Hey!" Percy protested.

"You can see him from time to time," Artemis assured Bianca. "But you will be free of responsibility. He will have the camp counselors to take care of him. And you will have a new family. Us."

"A new family," Bianca repeated dreamily. "Free of responsibility."

"Bianca, you can't do this," Percy said. "It's nuts."

Bianca looked at Zoë . "Is it worth it?"

Zoë nodded. "It is."

"What do I have to do?"

"Say this," Zoë told her, "'I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis.'"

"I... I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis."

"'I turn my back on the company of men, accept eternal maidenhood, and join the Hunt.'"

Bianca repeated the lines. "That's it?"

Zoë nodded. "If Lady Artemis accepts thy pledge, then it is binding."

"I accept it," Artemis said.

The flames in the brazier brightened, casting a silver glow over the room. Bianca looked no different, but she took a deep breath and opened her eyes wide. "I feel... stronger."

"Welcome, sister," Zoë said.

"Remember your pledge," Artemis said. "It is now your life."

And then, all eyes were on Naomi. She hated it.

"Now, my girl," Artemis said gently. "What is your decision?"

Naomi swallowed hard. She looked at Artemis, her stomach twisting into knots. "I... I appreciate the offer, Lady Artemis, but I... I can't say goodbye to..." She looked briefly at Percy, then back to the goddess just as quickly. "To camp. My home is there."

Artemis's eyes softened with something like grief. "I understand, my girl. My offer will stand as long as you live. I... I pray that is a while."

Some of the tension seemed to leave Percy's body, though Naomi wasn't sure why. He still looked displeased, though, scowling at the tent floor.

"Do not despair, Percy Jackson," Artemis said. "You will still get to show the di Angelos your camp. And if Nico so chooses, he can stay there."

"Great," he said dryly. "How are we supposed to get there?"

Artemis closed her eyes. "Dawn is approaching. Zoë , break camp. You must get to Long Island quickly and safely. I shall summon a ride from my brother."

Zoë didn't look real happy about this idea, but she nodded and told Bianca to follow her. As she was leaving, Bianca paused in front of Naomi and Percy. "I'm sorry, guys. But I want this. I really, really do."

Then she was gone, and Percy and Naomi were left alone with the goddess.

"So," Percy said. "We're going to get a ride from your brother, huh?"

Artemis's silver eyes gleamed. "Yes, boy. You see, Bianca di Angelo is not the only one with an annoying brother. It's time for you to meet my irresponsible twin, Apollo."

Chapter 47: v. thalia torches a new england town

Chapter Text

ARTEMIS ASSURED THEM THAT DAWN WAS COMING, but Naomi wasn't sure. It was colder and darker and snowier than ever. Up on the hill, Westover Hall's windows were completely lightless. Naomi wondered if the teachers had even noticed the di Angelos and Dr. Thorn were missing yet.

The Hunters broke camp as quickly as they'd set it up. Naomi and Percy stood shivering in the snow (unlike the Hunters, who didn't seem to feel the cold), and Artemis stared into the east like she was expecting something. Bianca sat off to one side, talking with Nico. Naomi could tell from his gloomy expression that she was explaining her decision to join the Hunt.

Thalia and Grover came up and huddled around Naomi and Percy, anxious to hear what had happened with Artemis.

When they told them, Grover turned pale. "The last time the Hunters visited camp, it didn't go well."

"How'd they even show up here?" Percy wondered. "I mean, they just appeared out of nowhere."

"And Bianca joined them," Thalia said, disgusted. "It's all Zoë's fault. That stuck-up, no good—"

"Who can blame her?" Grover said. "Eternity with Artemis?" He heaved a big sigh.

Thalia rolled her eyes. "You satyrs. You're all in love with Artemis. Don't you get that she'll never love you back?"

"But she's so... into nature," Grover swooned.

"You're nuts," Thalia said.

"Nuts and berries," Grover said dreamily. "Yeah."

Finally, the sky began to lighten. Artemis muttered, "About time. He's so-o-o lazy during the winter."

"You're, um, waiting for sunrise?" Percy asked.

"For my brother. Yes."

Percy frowned, visibly confused.

"It's not exactly as you think," Artemis told him.

"Oh, okay." Percy seemed to relax. "So, it's not like he'll be pulling up in a—"

There was a sudden burst of light on the horizon. A blast of warmth.

"Don't look," Artemis advised. "Not until he parks."

Parks?

Naomi averted her eyes. The light and warmth intensified until her winter coat felt like it was melting off. Then suddenly, the light died.

Naomi looked, frowning at the sight of a bright red convertible. The snow around it had melted in a perfect circle, which explained why they were now standing on green grass.

The driver got out, smiling. He looked about seventeen or eighteen, and, for a second, Naomi feared it was Luke. This guy had the same sandy hair and outdoorsy good looks. But it wasn't Luke. This guy was taller, with no scar on his face, and his smile was brighter and more playful.

"Wow," Thalia muttered. "Apollo is hot."

"He's the sun god," Percy said.

"And your half-brother," Naomi added.

Thalia's eyes widened. "Forget I said anything."

"Little sister!" Apollo called. If his teeth were any whiter, he could've blinded them without the sun car. "What's up? You never call. You never write. I was getting worried!"

Artemis sighed. "I'm fine, Apollo. And I am not your little sister."

"Hey, I was born first."

"We're twins! How many millennia do we have to argue—"

"So what's up?" he interrupted. "Got the girls with you, I see. You all need some tips on archery?"

Artemis grit her teeth. "I need a favor. I have some hunting to do, alone. I need you to take my companions to Camp Half-Blood."

"Sure, sis!" Then he raised his hands in a "stop everything" gesture. "I feel a haiku coming on."

The Hunters all groaned. Apparently they'd met Apollo before.

He cleared his throat and held up one hand dramatically.

"Green grass breaks through snow.

Artemis pleads for my help.

I am so cool."

He grinned at them, waiting for applause.

"That last line was only four syllables," Artemis said.

Apollo frowned. "Was it?"

"Yes. What about I am so big-headed?"

"No, no, that's six syllables. Hmm." He started muttering to himself.

Zoë Nightshade turned to Naomi and her companions. "Lord Apollo has been going through this haiku phase ever since he visited Japan. 'Tis not as bad as the time he visited Limerick. If I'd had to hear one more poem that started with, There once was a goddess from Sparta—"

"I've got it!" Apollo announced. "I am so awesome. That's five syllables!" He bowed, looking very pleased with himself. "And now, sis. Transportation for the Hunters, you say? Good timing. I was just about ready to roll."

"These demigods will also need a ride," Artemis said, pointing to them. "Some of Chiron's campers."

"No problem!" Apollo checked them out. "Let's see... Thalia, right? I've heard all about you."

Thalia blushed. "Hi, Lord Apollo."

"Zeus's girl, yes? Makes you my half-sister. Used to be a tree, didn't you? Glad you're back. I hate it when pretty girls turn into trees. Man, I remember one time—"

"Brother," Artemis said. "You should get going."

"Oh, right." Then he looked at Naomi and Percy, and his eyes narrowed. "Percy Jackson and Naomi Murphy?"

"Yeah. I mean... yes, sir," Percy responded.

Apollo studied them, but he didn't say anything, which was deeply unsettling.

"Well!" he said at last. "We'd better load up, huh? Ride only goes one way—west. And if you miss it, you miss it."

Naomi looked at the convertible, which would seat two people max, and there were about twenty passengers.

"Cool car," Nico said.

"Thanks, kid," Apollo said.

"But how will we all fit?"

"Oh." Apollo seemed to notice the problem for the first time. "Well, yeah. I hate to change out of sports-car mode, but I suppose..."

He took out his car keys and beeped the security alarm button. Chirp, chirp.

For a moment, the car glowed brightly again. When the glare died, the convertible had been replaced by a shuttle bus.

"Right," he said. "Everybody in."

Zoë ordered the Hunters to start loading. She picked up her camping pack, and Apollo said, "Here, sweetheart. Let me get that."

Zoë recoiled. Her eyes flashed murderously.

"Brother," Artemis chided. "You do not help my Hunters. You do not look at, talk to, or flirt with my Hunters. And you do not call them 'sweetheart.'"

Apollo spread his hands. "Sorry. I forgot. Hey, sis, where are you off to, anyway?"

"Hunting," Artemis said. "It's none of your business."

"I'll find out. I see all. Know all."

Artemis snorted. "Just drop them off, Apollo. And no messing around!"

"No, no! I never mess around."

Artemis rolled her eyes, then looked at Naomi and the others. "I will see you by winter solstice. Zoë, you are in charge of the Hunters. Do well. Do as I would do."

Zoë straightened. "Yes, my lady."

Artemis knelt and touched the ground as if looking for tracks. When she rose, she looked troubled. "So much danger. The beast must be found."

She sprinted toward the woods and melted into the snow and shadows.

Apollo turned and grinned, jangling the car keys on his finger. "So," he said. "Who wants to drive?"

The Hunters piled into the bus. They all crammed into the back so they'd be as far away as possible from Apollo and the other non-Hunters. Bianca sat with them, leaving Nico to hang in the front with Naomi and her friends.

"This is so cool!" Nico said, jumping up and down in the driver's seat. "Is this really the sun? I thought Helios and Selene were the sun and moon gods. How come sometimes it's them and sometimes it's you and Artemis?"

"Downsizing," Apollo said. "The Romans started it. They couldn't afford all those temple sacrifices, so they laid off Helios and Selene and folded their duties into our job descriptions. My sis got the moon. I got the sun. It was pretty annoying at first, but at least I got this cool car."

"But how does it work?" Nico asked. "I thought the sun was a big fiery ball of gas!"

Apollo chuckled and ruffled Nico's hair. "That rumor probably got started because Artemis used to call me a big fiery ball of gas. Seriously, kid, it depends on whether you're talking astronomy or philosophy. You want to talk astronomy? Bah, what fun is that? You want to talk about how humans think about the sun? Ah, now that's more interesting. They've got a lot riding on the sun... er, so to speak. It keeps them warm, grows their crops, powers engines, makes everything look, well, sunnier. This chariot is built out of human dreams about the sun, kid. It's as old as Western Civilization. Every day, it drives across the sky from east to west, lighting up all those puny little mortal lives. The chariot is a manifestation of the sun's power, the way mortals perceive it. Make sense?"

Nico shook his head. "No."

"Well then, just think of it as a really powerful, really dangerous solar car."

"Can I drive?"

"No. Too young."

"Oo! Oo!" Grover raised his hand.

"Mm, no," Apollo said. "Too furry."

He looked past Percy and Naomi and focused on Thalia.

"Daughter of Zeus!" he said. "Lord of the sky. Perfect."

"Oh, no." Thalia shook her head. "No, thanks."

"C'mon," Apollo said. "How old are you?"

Thalia hesitated. "I don't know."

It was sad, but true. She'd been turned into a tree when she was twelve, but that had been seven years ago. So she should be nineteen, if you went by years. But she still felt like she was twelve, and if you looked at her, she seemed somewhere in between. The best Chiron could figure, she had kept aging while in tree form, but much more slowly.

Apollo tapped his finger to his lips. "You're sixteen, almost seventeen."

"How do you know that?"

"Hey, I'm the god of prophecy. I know stuff. You'll turn seventeen in about a week."

"That's my birthday! December twenty-second."

"Which means you're definitely old enough to drive!"

Thalia shifted her feet nervously. "Uh—"

"I know what you're going to say," Apollo said. "You don't deserve an honor like driving the sun chariot."

"That's not what I was going to say."

"Don't sweat it! Maine to Long Island is a really short trip, and don't worry about what happened to the last kid I trained. You're Zeus's daughter. He's not going to blast you out of the sky."

Apollo laughed good-naturedly. No one joined him.

Thalia tried to protest, but Apollo was absolutely not going to take "no" for an answer. He hit a button on the dashboard, and a sign popped up along the top of the windshield. Naomi had to read it backward (which was a struggle), but she was pretty sure it said WARNING: STUDENT DRIVER.

"Take it away!" Apollo told Thalia. "You're gonna be a natural!"

"Speed equals heat," Apollo advised Thalia. "So start slowly, and make sure you've got good altitude before you really open her up."

Thalia gripped the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. She looked like she was going to be sick.

"What's wrong?" Percy asked her.

"Nothing," she said shakily. "N-nothing is wrong."

She pulled back on the wheel. It tilted and the bus lurched upward so fast Naomi was crushed against the window by Percy.

"Ow," she complained.

"Sorry."

"Slower!" Apollo said.

"Sorry!" Thalia said. "I've got it under control!"

Naomi looked out of the window to see a smoking ring of trees from the clearing where they'd just taken off.

"Are you sure about that?" Naomi called.

"Thalia," Percy said, "lighten up on the accelerator."

"I've got it, Percy," Thalia said, gritting her teeth. But she kept it floored.

"Loosen up," Percy told her.

"I'm loose!" Thalia said. She was so stiff she looked like a statue.

"We need to veer south for Long Island," Apollo said. "Hang a left."

Thalia jerked the wheel and this time it was Naomi's turn to crash into Percy.

"The other left," Apollo suggested.

Naomi made the mistake of looking out of the window again. They were at airplane height now—so high the sky was starting to look black.

"Ah..." Apollo said, and Naomi got the feeling he was forcing himself to sound calm. "A little lower, sweetheart. Cape Cod is freezing over."

Thalia tilted the wheel. Her face was chalk white, her forehead beaded with sweat. Something was definitely wrong—she looked like she was seconds away from throwing up.

The bus pitched down and somebody screamed—it sounded like Percy. Now they were heading straight toward the Atlantic Ocean at a thousand miles an hour, the New England coastline off to their left. And it was getting very hot in the bus.

Apollo had been thrown somewhere in the back of the bus, but he started climbing up the row of seats.

"Take the wheel!" Grover begged him.

"No worries," Apollo said, sounding worried. "She just has to learn to—WHOA!"

Naomi saw what he was looking at. Down below was a little snow-covered New England town. At least, it used to be snow-covered. As she watched, the snow melted off the trees and roofs and the lawns. The white steeple on a church turned brown and started to smolder. Little plumes of smoke, like birthday candles, were popping up all over town. Trees and rooftops were catching fire.

"Pull up!" Percy yelled.

There was a wild light in Thalia's eyes. She yanked on the wheel, and Naomi closed her eyes tightly, Percy grabbing her and the back of the seat in front of them to keep them both from flying out of their seats.

"There!" Apollo pointed. "Long Island, dead ahead. Let's slow down, dear. 'Dead' is only an expression."

Naomi dared to open her eyes. Thalia was thundering toward the coastline of northern Long Island. There was Camp Half-Blood: the valley, the woods, the beach. She could see the dining pavilion and cabins and the amphitheater.

"I'm under control," Thalia muttered. "I'm under control."

They were only a few hundred yards away now.

"Brake," Apollo said.

"I can do this."

"BRAKE!"

Thalia slammed her foot on the brake, and the sun bus pitched forward at a forty-five-degree angle, slamming into the Camp Half-Blood canoe lake with a huge FLOOOOOSH! Steam billowed up, sending several frightened naiads scrambling out of the water with half-woven wicker baskets.

The bus bobbed to the surface along with a couple of capsized, half-melted canoes.

"Well," Apollo said with a brave smile. "You were right, my dear. You had everything under control! Let's go see if we boiled anyone important, shall we?"

They hadn't boiled anyone, which was a relief.

"Whoa," Nico said as he climbed off the bus. "Is that a climbing wall?"

"Yeah," Percy said.

"Why is there lava pouring down it?"

"Little extra challenge. Come on. I'll introduce you to Chiron. Zoë, have you met—"

"I know Chiron," Zoë said stiffly. "Tell him we will be in Cabin Eight. Hunters, follow me."

"I'll show you the way," Grover offered.

"We know the way."

"Oh, really, it's no trouble. It's easy to get lost here, if you don't"—he tripped over a canoe and came up still talking—"like my old daddy goat used to say! Come on!"

Zoë rolled her eyes, but she must have figured there was no getting rid of Grover. The Hunters shouldered their packs and their bows and headed off toward the cabins. As Bianca di Angelo was leaving, she leaned over and whispered something in her brother's ear. She looked at him for an answer, but Nico just scowled and turned away.

"Take care, sweethearts!" Apollo called after the Hunters. He winked at Percy and Naomi. "Watch out for those prophecies, you two. I'll see you soon."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked.

Instead of answering, he hopped back in the bus. "Later, Thalia," he called. "And, uh, be good!"

He gave her a wicked smile, as if he knew something she didn't. Then he closed the doors and revved the engine. Naomi looked away as the sun chariot took off in a blast of heat. When she looked back, the lake was steaming, and a red convertible soared over the woods, glowing brighter and climbing higher until it disappeared in a ray of sunlight.

Nico was still looking grumpy. Naomi wondered what Bianca had said.

"Who's Chiron?" he asked. "I don't have his figurine."

"Our activities director," Percy said. "He's... well, you'll see."

"If those Hunter girls don't like him," Nico grumbled, "that's good enough for me. Let's go."

Somehow, camp felt even emptier than it had the morning before. Naomi spotted Beckendorf stoking the forge outside the camp armory; the Stolls, picking the lock on the camp store; a few Ares kids engaged in a snowball fight with the wood nymphs at the edge of the forest.

"Where's Clarisse?" Percy asked her.

"Scouting mission for Chiron," Naomi explained. "That's all I know about it. Chiron's kept it very hush-hush."

They reached the Big House, which was decorated with strings of and yellow fireballs that warmed the porch but wouldn't set anything alight. The annual fall scarecrow (who Asher had insisted on naming Farmer Brian this year, for whatever reason) had been replaced by the porch steps by Mr. Frostbite the Snowman (named by a very adorable seven-year-old from Cabin Nine).

Drew was standing on the porch, and Naomi frowned at the worried expression on her face.

As soon as she spotted Naomi, the daughter of Aphrodite rushed down the porch steps and hugged Naomi, which was worrying in and of itself—Drew wasn't much of a hugger.

"What's wrong?" Naomi said, dread settling in the pit of her stomach.

When Drew pulled away, Naomi saw that her eyes were red from crying—another really bad sign.

"It's Ethan," she said, her voice smaller than Naomi had ever heard it. "He's gone."

Chapter 48: vi. faith for the faithless

Chapter Text

NAOMI WAS SILENT FOR A LONG MOMENT. She looked at Chiron, who had a grim expression. "Wh... what?"

"I'm truly sorry, Miss Murphy," Chiron said. "I've informed the search parties, but it may be that... well, he does not want to be found."

Naomi knew what he was implying. With all of the campers that were going missing, there were two options as to what had happened: they'd been abducted or lured out by Luke and his minions, or... or they sought them out intentionally.

Naomi shook her head. "No, Ethan was taken," she insisted. "He wouldn't join Luke. I know he wouldn't."

Chiron didn't look convinced, but he nodded. "The parties will keep an eye out. I do hope you are correct."

Mr. D snorted. "We should be so lucky."

Chiron gave him a stern look, which the god ignored, then looked at Drew, his expression softening. "Miss Tanaka, why don't you go and rejoin your cabin? I'm sure Silena is worried."

Drew hesitated, but she decided not to argue. She squeezed Naomi's arm before walking off.

Chiron cleared his throat. "It's good to see you all back. And this must be—"

"Nico di Angelo," Percy said. "He and his sister are half-bloods."

Chiron breathed a sigh of relief. "You succeeded, then."

"Well..."

Chiron's smile melted. "What's wrong? And where is Annabeth?"

Naomi's already twisted stomach churned again, her eyes trained on the floor. Percy reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly as he shifted closer.

"Oh, dear," Mr. D said, sounding bored. "Another one lost."

Just then, Grover trotted up, grinning like crazy. He had a black eye and red lines on his face that looked like a slap mark. "The Hunters are all moved in!"

Chiron frowned. "The Hunters, eh? I see we have much to talk about." He glanced at Nico. "Grover, perhaps you should take our young friend to the den and show him our orientation film."

"But... Oh, right. Yes, sir."

"Orientation film?" Nico asked. "Is it G or PG? 'Cause Bianca is kinda strict—"

"It's PG-13," Grover said.

"Cool!" Nico happily followed him out of the room.

"Now," Chiron said to the three remaining demigods, "perhaps you three should sit down and tell us the whole story."

When they were done, Chiron turned to Mr. D. "We should launch a search for Annabeth immediately."

"I'll go," Thalia, Percy, and Naomi said at the same time.

Mr. D sniffed. "Certainly not!"

Thalia and Percy both started complaining, but Mr. D held up his hand. He had that purplish angry fire in his eyes that usually meant something bad or godly (or both) was going to happen if they didn't shut up.

"From what you have told me," Mr. D said, "we have broken even on this escapade. We have, ah, regrettably lost Annie Bell—"

"Annabeth," Percy snapped.

"Yes, yes," he said. "And you procured a small annoying boy to replace her. So I see no point risking further half-bloods on a ridiculous rescue. The possibility is very great that this Annie girl is dead."

"Annabeth may be alive," Chiron said, though Naomi could tell he was having trouble sounding upbeat. He'd practically raised Annabeth all those years she was a year-round camper, before she'd given living with her dad and stepmom a second try. "She's very bright. If... if our enemies have her, she will try to play for time. She may even pretend to cooperate."

"That's right," Thalia said. "Luke would want her alive."

"In which case," Mr. D said, "I'm afraid she will have to be smart enough to escape on her own."

Percy got up from the table, and Naomi grabbed his hand to pull him back down.

"Percy." Chiron's tone was full of warning.

"You're glad to lose another camper," Percy accused Mr. D. "You'd like it if we all disappeared!"

Mr. D stifled a yawn. "You have a point?"

"Yeah," Percy growled. "Just because you were sent here as a punishment doesn't mean you have to be a lazy jerk! This is your civilization, too. Maybe you could try helping out a little!"

For a second, there was no sound except the crackle of the fire. The light reflected in Mr. D's eyes, giving him a sinister, deadly look. He opened his mouth to say something—probably a curse that would blast Percy to smithereens—when Nico burst into the room, followed by Grover.

"SO COOL!" Nico yelled, holding his hands out to Chiron. "You're... you're a centaur!"

Chiron managed a nervous smile. "Yes, Mr. di Angelo, if you please. Though, I prefer to stay in human form in this wheelchair for, ah, first encounters."

"And, whoa!" He looked at Mr. D. "You're the wine dude? No way!"

Mr. D turned his eyes away from Percy and gave Nico a look of loathing. "The wine dude?"

"Dionysus, right? Oh, wow! I've got your figurine."

"My figurine."

"In my game, Mythomagic. And a holofoil card, too! And even though you've only got like five hundred attack points and everybody thinks you're the lamest god card, I totally think your powers are sweet!"

"Ah." Mr. D seemed truly perplexed, which probably saved Percy's life. "Well, that's... gratifying."

"Percy," Chiron said quickly, "you three go down to the cabins. Inform the campers we'll be playing capture the flag tomorrow evening."

"Capture the flag?" Naomi asked. "We don't have enough—"

"It is a tradition," Chiron said. "A friendly match, whenever the Hunters visit."

"Yeah," Thalia muttered. "I bet it's real friendly."

Chiron jerked his head toward Mr. D, who was still frowning as Nico talked about how many defense points all the gods had in his game. "Run along now," Chiron told them.

"Oh, right," Thalia said. "Come on, guys."

She hauled them out of the Big House before Dionysus could remember that he wanted to kill Percy.

"You've already got Ares on your bad side," Thalia reminded Percy as they trudged toward the cabins. "You need another immortal enemy?"

"Sorry," Percy said. "I couldn't help it. It's just so unfair."

Thalia stopped by the armory and looked out across the valley, toward the top of Half-Blood Hill. Her pine tree was still there, the Golden Fleece glittering in its lowest branch. The tree's magic still protected the borders of camp, but it no longer used Thalia's spirit for power.

"Percy, everything is unfair," Thalia muttered. "Sometimes I wish..."

She didn't finish, but her tone was so sad, Naomi felt sorry for her. With her ragged black hair and punk clothes, an old wool overcoat wrapped around her, she looked like some kind of huge raven, completely out of place in the white landscape.

"We'll get Annabeth back," Percy said, his voice sure. "I just don't know how yet."

"First I found out that Luke is lost," Thalia said. "Now Annabeth—"

"Don't think like that."

"You're right." She straightened up. "We'll find a way."

Over at the basketball court, a few of the Hunters were shooting hoops. One of them was arguing with a guy from the Ares cabin. The Ares kid had his hand on his sword and the Hunter girl looked like she was going to exchange her basketball for a bow and arrow any second.

"I'll break that up," Thalia said. "You two circulate around the cabins. Tell everybody about capture the flag tomorrow."

"All right. You should be team captain," Percy said.

"No, no," she said. "You've been at camp longer. You do it."

"We can, uh... co-captain or something."

They both looked uncomfortable with that idea, but Thalia nodded.

As she headed for the court, Percy said, "Hey, Thalia."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry about what happened at Westover. We should've waited for you guys."

"'S okay, Percy. I probably would've done the same thing." She shifted from foot to foot, like she was trying to decide whether or not to say more. "You know, you asked about my mom and I kinda snapped at you. It's just... I went back to find her after seven years, and I found out she died in Los Angeles. She, um... she was a heavy drinker, and apparently she was out driving late one night about two years ago, and..." Thalia blinked hard.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. It's... it's not like we were ever close. I ran away when I was ten. Best two years of my life were when I was running around with Luke and Annabeth. But still—"

"That's why you had trouble with the sun van."

She gave him a wary look. "What do you mean?"

"The way you stiffened up. You must've been thinking about your mom, not wanting to get behind the wheel."

Naomi wished he hadn't said anything. Thalia looked like she was a minute away from electrocuting him with a million volts.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Yeah, that must've been it."

She trudged off toward the court, where the Ares camper and the Hunter were trying to kill each other with a sword and a basketball.

Naomi and Percy split the cabins down the middle, telling everyone about capture the flag. When she reached the Aphrodite cabin, Silena, Drew, and the newest addition to the family, ten-year-old Lacy, were sitting on the porch steps.

Lacy waved excitedly, which was a sharp contrast to the blank expression on Drew's face and the worried look in Silena's eyes. "Hi, Naomi!"

Naomi managed a smile. "Hey, Lace." She sat down on the porch steps next to her, since she'd saved the Aphrodite cabin for last. "Capture the flag tomorrow—campers versus Hunters."

Silena scowled, some of the worry dissipating from her eyes. "I thought the vibes turned sour."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "You don't like the Hunters?"

"They think they're superior because they swear off love," Silena said. "Of course I don't like them. They treat love like it's something to be embarrassed about."

Naomi nodded in understanding. She decided not to mention the fact that Artemis had extended her an invitation. "Have you ever been at camp when the Hunters came to visit?"

Silena nodded with a grimace. "My first year, when I was ten. Those girls... if I get the chance, I'm breaking a nose. Screw dessert privileges."

"Hear, hear," Drew muttered. "I feel like punching someone."

"Don't you always feel like punching someone?" Silena said, her tone light as she started braiding Naomi's hair, as she tended to do when she was bored.

Drew scowled at the ground. "I'm extra homicidal today."

Silena sighed softly. "I'm sure Ethan's okay," she tried to reassure them. "He wouldn't have just left without a goodbye."

"Then that just means something bad happened to him," Naomi said quietly. "Doesn't it?"

Silena was quiet for a moment. "Ethan's... he's not weak," she told the girls. "If he's in trouble, he should be able to get out of it. You just have to have faith in him."

Dinner was quiet. In the off-season, it was rarely as rowdy as it was during the summer, but this was a new level of boring. Naomi picked at her meal, which made Miranda give her a pointed look at the meager amount she was eating (Demeter kids, like their mother, were kind of health freaks). Naomi got an apple from a passing nymph to please her half-aunt.

She looked around the pavilion. She felt bad seeing Percy and Thalia stuck at their own tables, but Chiron and Mr. D were strict about campers sitting at their designated tables and nowhere else. Silena, Drew, and Lacy were at their table, Lacy being the only one talking from the looks of her animated hand movements and facial expressions. Nico di Angelo sat with the Stolls—since undetermined half-bloods were always relegated to the Hermes cabin—and the brothers seemed to be trying to convince Nico that poker was a much better game than Mythomagic. Naomi hoped Nico didn't have any money to lose.

The only table that seemed to be having a good time was the Artemis table. The Hunters drank and ate and laughed like one big happy family. Zoe sat at the head like she was the mother. She didn't laugh as much as the others, but she did smile from time to time. Bianca seemed to be having a good time, too—she was trying to learn to arm wrestle from the buff girl who'd picked a fight with the Ares kid earlier. Bianca lost every time, but she didn't seem to mind.

When everyone finished eating, Chiron made the customary toast to the gods and formally welcomed the Hunters of Artemis. The clapping was pretty half-hearted. Then he announced the "goodwill" capture the flag game for tomorrow night, which got a much better reception.

Afterward, everyone trailed back to their cabins for an early lights-out. Naomi was out within seconds of getting into bed, and just as quickly, a nightmare snagged her consciousness.

Annabeth was on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog. It was dark—almost as dark as Naomi's last freaky demigod dream over the summer, when she'd overheard Kronos telling Luke to secure the forbidden daughter.

Annabeth struggled up the hill. Old broken Greek columns of black marble were scattered around, as though something had blasted a huge building to ruins.

"Thorn!" Annabeth cried. "Where are you? Why did you bring me here?" She scrambled over a section of broken wall and came to the crest of the hill.

She gasped.

There was Luke. And he was hurt.

He was crumpled on the rocky ground, trying to rise. The blackness seemed to be thicker around him, fog swirling hungrily. His clothes were in tatters and his face was scratched and drenched in sweat.

"Annabeth!" he called. "Help me! Please!"

She ran forward.

No, don't! Naomi tried to warn her, dread filling her veins like ice water, but her voice wouldn't work.

Annabeth had tears in her eyes. She reached down like she wanted to touch Luke's face, but at the last second she hesitated.

"What happened?" she asked.

"They left me here," Luke groaned. "Please. It's killing me."

Naomi couldn't tell what was wrong with him. He seemed to be struggling against some invisible weight, as if the fog around him was squeezing him into a giant fist.

"Why should I trust you?" Annabeth asked. Her voice was filled with hurt.

"You shouldn't," Luke said. "I've been terrible to you. But, if you don't help me, I'll die."

Then the darkness above Luke began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. Annabeth rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. She held it somehow—tons of rock. She kept it from collapsing on her and Luke just with her own strength. It was impossible. She shouldn't have been able to do that.

Luke rolled free, gasping. "Thanks," he managed.

"Help me hold it," Annabeth groaned.

Luke caught his breath. His face was covered in grime and sweat. He rose unsteadily.

"I knew I could count on you." He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to crush Annabeth.

"HELP ME!" she pleaded.

"Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die."

The ceiling of darkness began to crumble more, pushing Annabeth against the ground.

Naomi gasped awake in the darkness of her cabin, scrambling to purchase as her fingers dug into her mattress. Her heart was beating like a marathon runner's.

It had only been a dream, but Naomi knew: Annabeth was in danger, and it was Luke's fault.

Chapter 49: vii. a mummy crashes a not-so-friendly game of capture the flag

Chapter Text

AS IT TURNED OUT, Morpheus had opted out of creativity for the night and decided to give Naomi and Percy the same dream of their best friend being crushed until a ceiling of darkness.

After breakfast, they talked to Grover about the shared dream. They sat in the meadow watching satyrs chase the wood nymphs through the snow. The nymphs had promised to kiss the satyrs if they got caught, but they hardly ever did. Usually the nymph would let the satyr get up a full head of steam, then she'd turn into a snow-covered tree and the satyr would slam into it head first and get covered in snow.

When Naomi and Percy told Grover about their nightmare, he started twirling his finger in his shaggy leg fur.

"A cave ceiling collapsed on her?" he asked.

"Yeah. What the hell does that mean?" Percy asked.

Grover shook his head. "I don't know. But after what Zoë dreamed—"

"Whoa. What do you mean? Zoë had a dream like that?"

"I... I don't know, exactly. About three in the morning she came to the Big House and demanded to talk to Chiron. She looked really panicked."

Naomi frowned. "Wait, how do you know this?"

Grover blushed. "I was sort of camped outside the Artemis cabin."

"What for?" Percy asked.

"Just to be, you know, near them."

Naomi stared at him. "Grover, that's creepy."

"You're a stalker with hooves," Percy said.

"I am not!" Grover insisted. "Anyway, I followed her to the Big House and hid in a bush and watched the whole thing. She got real upset when Argus wouldn't let her in. It was kind of a dangerous scene."

Naomi tried to imagine that. She wouldn't want to place bets on a fight between the camp's hundred-eyed head of security and Zoë Nightshade.

"What did she say?" Percy asked.

Grover grimaced. "Well, she starts talking really old-fashioned when she gets upset, so it was kind of hard to understand. But something about Artemis being in trouble and needing the Hunters. And then she called Argus a boil-brained lout... I think that's a bad thing. And then he called her—"

"Wait, go back. How could Artemis be in trouble?" Naomi asked.

"I... well, finally Chiron came out in his pajamas and his horse tail in curlers and—"

"He wears curlers in his tail?" Percy asked.

Naomi glared at him to shut up.

"Sorry," he said. "Go on."

"Well, Zoë said she needed permission to leave camp immediately. Chiron refused. He reminded Zoë that the Hunters were supposed to stay here until they received orders from Artemis. And she said..." Grover gulped. "She said 'How are we to get orders from Artemis if Artemis is lost?'"

"What do you mean lost?" Percy asked. "Like she needs directions?"

"No. I think she meant gone. Taken. Kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Percy looked bewildered. "How would you kidnap an immortal goddess? Is that even possible?"

Naomi stared at him. "My mother was literally kidnapped by Hades. That's her biggest myth—the kidnapping of Persephone."

"But she's, like... the goddess of flowers. Artemis is a lot more powerful than that."

He winced as soon as he said it.

"First of all, she's the goddess of springtime," Naomi corrected, narrowing her eyes at him. "Second, she's the queen of the Underworld. Third, how dare you put me in a position where I have to defend a mother I'm not even sure I like?"

Percy looked at the ground. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Grover shook his head, disappointed. "Honestly, Percy."

"Okay, I said I'm sorry!" Percy said. "So, who would kidnap Artemis? And why?"

"I don't know," Grover said miserably. "Kronos?"

"He can't be that powerful already. Can he?"

The last time they'd seen Kronos, he'd been in tiny pieces. Well, they hadn't actually seen him, but the point still stood.

"I don't know," Grover said. "I think somebody would know if Kronos had re-formed. The gods would be more nervous. But still, it's weird—you two having a nightmare the same night as Zoë. It's almost like—"

"They're connected," Percy said.

Over in the frozen meadow, a satyr skidded on his hooves as he chased after a redheaded tree nymph. She giggled and held out her arms as he ran toward her. Pop! She turned into a Scotch pine and he kissed the trunk at top speed.

"Ah, love," Grover said dreamily.

Percy looked at Naomi. "We've got to talk to Zoë."

"Um, before you do..." Grover took something out of his coat pocket. It was a three-fold display like a travel brochure. "You remember what you said—about how it was weird the Hunters just happened to show up at Westover Hall? I think they might've been scouting us."

"Scouting us? What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, Artemis did invite Naomi to join," Grover pointed out. "And... well..."

He handed Percy the brochure from his pocket. It was about the Hunters of Artemis. The front read, A WISE CHOICE FOR YOUR FUTURE! Inside were pictures of young maidens doing hunter stuff, chasing monsters, shooting bows. There were captions like: HEALTH BENEFITS: IMMORTALITY AND WHAT IT MEANS FOR YOU! and A BOY-FREE TOMORROW!

"I found that in Annabeth's backpack," Grover said.

Percy stared at him. "I don't understand."

"Well, it seems to me... maybe Annabeth was thinking about joining."

Naomi only took the news slightly better than Percy, who was throwing a bit of a tantrum... and a few javelins.

She focused on keeping herself busy. She spent most of the day in the humid greenhouse, harvesting celery and parsnips and other winter produce she'd never force herself to eat. When Miranda kicked her out for ripping one too many of the leeks (it had nothing to do with the idea of Annabeth joining the Hunters and forswearing any and all forms of romantic love—she was just being clumsy), she found Drew and Lacy in the arts and crafts building, Lacy making macaroni art and Drew snipping angrily at her attempts at paper snowflakes.

(Naomi very carefully replaced Drew's regular scissors with safety scissors.)

When the time came Capture the Flag, Naomi was full of energy and ready to expend it all on kicking the Hunters immortal butts. She'd forgotten all about Artemis's invitation—they were the enemy now.

(She wasn't sure when she got so dramatic, but Silena approved.)

It was going to be a small game, like most matches were outside of summer. Only thirteen Hunters, including Bianca di Angelo, and about as many campers.

Zoë Nightshade looked pretty upset. She kept glancing resentfully at Chiron, like she couldn't believe he was making her do this. The other Hunters didn't look too happy, either. Unlike last night, they weren't laughing or joking around. They just huddled together in the dining pavilion, whispering nervously to each other as they strapped on their armor. Some of them even looked like they'd been crying. Zoë must have told them about her nightmare.

On the campers' team, they had Beckendorf and two other Hephaestus guys, a few kids from the Ares cabin, the Stolls and Nico from the Hermes cabin, and the Aphrodite girls, who were raring to brawl from the looks of it.

"I'll show them 'love is worthless," Silena grumbled as she strapped on her armor. "I'll pulverize them!"

Drew caught one of the Hunters' eyes, pointed at the immortal girl who didn't look much older than Lacy, and made a none-too-subtle cutting motion across her throat.

"Yeah!" Lacy cheered enthusiastically.

Naomi summoned Hemlock, needlessly checking the blade for any nicks or scratches in the metal. It looked as clean and new as the first time she'd held it. It hadn't been that long, after all—about a year and a half.

Thalia whistled for her attention. "Naomi, you're on defense with Percy," she called. "Make sure he doesn't get attacked by another hellhound."

"Annabeth told you about that?" Naomi asked.

"'Course she did," Thalia said. She looked at Silena, who was struggling to strap on her armor without chipping her manicure (which had taken her an hour to get perfect, so Naomi understood the concern). "Beauregard, don't—stop tugging it like that!"

She walked off, and Naomi went over to join Percy.

"It's like our first game all over again," she said lightly, bumping his shoulder with her own. "Hopefully minus the Ares cabin pummeling."

Percy narrowed his eyes at her, but he wasn't mad. "I've never seen Drew this pissed off."

"You should've seen her when one of the Ares kids broke her favorite Paramore CD," Naomi said. "She nearly bit Ethan's..." She swallowed, remembering once again the MIA status of yet another friend. "She nearly bit his head off when he asked her what the big deal was."

"I'm sure he's okay," Percy said, though he didn't sound that confident.

"I hope so," Naomi whispered.

Before the mood could get any darker, Nico di Angelo ran up to them with a big grin on his face.

"This is awesome!" His blue-feathered bronze helmet was falling in his eyes, and his breastplate was about six sizes too big—a plight Nami knew all too well. Her armor now still just barely fit her with the straps tightened all the way.

She blamed the orphanage for stunting her growth, but she feared it was just an unlucky case of genetic sabotage.

Nico lifted his sword with effort. "Do we get to kill the other team?"

"Well... no," Percy said.

"But the Hunters are immortal, right?"

"That's only if they don't fall in battle. Besides—"

"It would be awesome if we just, like, resurrected as soon as we were killed, so we could keep fighting, and—"

"Nico," Naomi interrupted gently. "This is serious. Real swords can cause real damage."

Nico stared at her, visibly disappointed.

Naomi caved almost instantly. "Hey, how about some time Percy and I give you a beginner's lesson? We'll teach you a few tricks you can do, like this—"

She tossed her sword into the air, spinning a tight circle before catching it in her non-dominant hand and smacking Percy's out of the way without warning. He fumbled to catch it as it flew lightly into the air, but Naomi stepped into his space and grabbed it in her free hand, catching it as well and crossing them below his chin.

Percy blinked, startled. "Wha—when did you learn that?"

"Clarisse taught me before she left," Naomi said with a grin, stepping back and handing him his sword back. "Cool, huh?"

"Well—I mean, it's cool, but when are you ever going to use that in an actual fight?" Percy said. "I was distracted. That's the only way you got my sword."

"Sure," Naomi said, trying to suppress a bigger smile. "We'll go with that."

"Whoa!" Nico said, staring at her with so much awe Naomi's ego grew in size a little. "You have to teach me that! Hey, does your sword turn into a pen, too?"

"Ring," Naomi told him. "See?" She willed Hemlock back into its ring form and showed him the bronze band.

Nico took it, staring at it. "So cool," he whispered.

Chiron's hoof thundered on the pavilion floor.

"Heroes!" he called. "You know the rules! The creek is the boundary line. Blue team—Camp Half-Blood—shall take the west woods. Hunters of Artemis—red team—shall take the east woods. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. No intentional maiming, please! All magic items are allowed. To your positions!"

"Sweet," Nico whispered. "What kind of magic items? Do I get one?"

Naomi was trying to figure out how to break it to him that he would not, but then Thalia ordered, "Blue team! Follow me!"

They cheered and followed, and Naomi, Percy, and Nico rushed to follow.

They set the flag at the top of Zeus's fist—a cluster of boulders in the middle of the west woods that, if you look at it just the right way, looks like a huge fist sticking out of the ground. It was a good place to set the flag. The top boulder was twenty feet tall and really hard to climb, so the flag was clearly visible, like the rules said it had to be, and it didn't matter that the guards weren't allowed to stand within ten yards of it.

Percy set Nico on guard duty with Beckendorf and the Stolls, which was probably where he'd be safest.

"We'll send out a decoy to the left," Thalia told the team. "Silena, you lead that."

"Got it!" Silena said, looking determined.

"Take Drew and Asher. Make a wide arc around the Hunters, attract as many as you can. I'll take the main raiding party around to the right and catch them by surprise."

Everybody nodded. It sounded good, and Thalia said it with such confidence you couldn't help but believe it would work.

Thalia looked at Percy. "Anything to add?"

"Um, yeah. Keep sharp on defense. We've got five guards, two scouts. That's not much for a big forest. I'll be roving. Yell if you need help."

"And don't leave your post!" Thalia said.

"Unless you see a golden opportunity," Percy added.

Thalia scowled. "Just don't leave your post."

"Right, unless—"

"Percy!" Thalia touched his arm, and Percy flinched as she shocked him.

"Sorry," she said, though she didn't sound like she meant it. "Now, is everybody clear?"

Everybody nodded. They broke into their smaller groups. The horn sounded, and the game began.

Silena's group disappeared into the woods on the left. Thalia's group gave it a few seconds, then darted off toward the right.

Naomi climbed to the top of Zeus's Fist with Percy, the two of them waiting for something to happen. She remembered how the Hunters had stormed out of the woods when they fought the manticore, and she was prepared for something like that—one huge charge that overwhelmed them.

But nothing happened.

Naomi caught a glimpse of Silena and her scouts. They ran through a clearing, followed by five of the Hunters, leading them deep into the woods and away from Thalia. The plan seemed to be working.

Then she spotted another clump of Hunters heading to the right, bows ready. They must've spotted Thalia.

"What's happening?" Nico demanded, trying to climb up next to them.

Percy didn't speak for a moment, then he looked at Naomi. "Can you guys hold the fort?"

She looked down at Beckendorf, then at the Stolls. "Yeah, probably."

"I'm going in."

Naomi didn't bother to try to talk him out of it. "Just don't get maimed."

Percy nodded, climbing down and racing toward the boundary line.

Naomi climbed down as well, much more slowly, as the Stolls and Nico cheered Percy on.

"He's so cool," Nico said to her.

Naomi shrugged. "He's alright."

"Is he your boyfriend?"

Naomi turned her head to look at him, startled. "What? No—no, he's not my boyfriend."

"Is that Ethan guy you were talking about your boyfriend?"

Naomi sputtered like a car breaking down. "No—no. No, he's not my boyfriend either."

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Naomi scowled at him. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I'm a curious boy."

"Incoming!" Beckendorf shouted.

Naomi looked up sharply, cursing as a familiar circlet-wearing immortal burst through the tree-line.

Travis and Connor, the first line of defense, crumbled as easily as saltine crackers. Travis took a silver bow to the temple and Connor was stuck with two arrows, forming antennae on his helmet.

Beckendorf tried to engage, but Zoë ducked out of the way of his sword and body-slammed him into the grass in the same moment. Naomi gawked at the ease with which Zoë brought him down.

She shoved Nico out of the way as Zoë advanced. She lifted her sword, trying to put on a brave face.

Zoë notched an arrow in her bow, but Naomi somehow managed to smack the bow down with the flat of Hemlock. It was a lucky shot—the only one she'd be getting.

Before she could even think about her next move, Zoë produced a hunting knife out of thin air and slashed it at Naomi's sword arm, making the daughter of Persephone hiss in pain and surprise.

Naomi lost her grip on her sword, but she caught it in her other hand before it could hit the grass. She made one last valiant swipe with her blade at Zoë's legs, but the Hunter jumped three feet into the air, Naomi's sword passing harmlessly through the air.

Zoë knocked her to the ground with an elbow to the cheek for good measure.

A second later, Zoë had the flag in her hand. She looked down at Naomi, an unimpressed look on her face. "No hard feelings?"

She took off for the boundary line before Naomi could say that there were, in fact, very hard feelings.

"Stop her!" Naomi shouted, trying to collect herself off the ground.

Nico and Beckendorf ran after the Hunter, but it was too late. Zoë leaped across the creek, landing a second before Percy could with the Hunters' flag.

"The Hunters win!" Chiron announced without pleasure. Then he muttered, "For the fifty-sixth time in a row."

Beckendorf helped Naomi back to her feet, patting her head. "Nice try."

Naomi sighed. "You too."

"Perseus Jackson!" Thalia yelled, storming toward the boy in question. She smelled like rotten eggs, and she was so mad that blue sparks flickered on her armor. Everybody cringed and backed up because of Aegis—everybody but Percy.

"What in the name of the gods were you THINKING?" she bellowed.

Percy's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I got the flag, Thalia!" He shook it in her face. "I saw a chance and I took it!"

Naomi went over to them, pushing Percy's arm and the flag back down. "Guys, quit. It's supposed to be us versus the Hunters, not us versus us."

"Butt out of it, Murphy," Thalia snapped.

"Don't talk to her that way!" Percy yelled at her. "You don't get to take your anger out on her just because you messed up—"

"I WAS AT THEIR BASE!" Thalia screamed. "But the flag was gone. If you hadn't butted in, we would've won."

"You had too many on you!"

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"I didn't say that."

"Argh!" Thalia pushed Percy, and he flew backward three yards into the water. Some of the campers gasped. A couple of the Hunters stifled laughs.

"Sorry!" Thalia said, turning pale. "I didn't mean to—"

A wave erupted from the river, blasting into Thalia's face and dousing her from head to toe.

Percy stood up. "Yeah," he growled. "I didn't mean to either."

Thalia was breathing heavily.

"Enough!" Chiron ordered.

But Thalia held her spear. "You want some, Seaweed Brain?"

"Bring it, Pinecone Face!"

"Guys!" Naomi pleaded. "Quit!"

Percy raised Riptide, but before he could even defend himself, Thalia yelled, and a blast of lightning came down from the sky, hit her spear like a lightning rod, and slammed into his chest.

Percy sat down hard. There was a burning smell.

"Thalia!" Chiron said. "That is enough!"

Percy got to his feet and willed the entire river to rise. It swirled up, hundreds of gallons of water in a massive icy funnel cloud.

"Stop!" Naomi screamed, and just before the first echo in the forest sounded, her stomach twisted. Darkness enveloped them all in its unforgiving grip, blotting out the sun above. Naomi heard the telltale noise of hundreds of gallons of water splashing harshly back into the river, and the electricity in the air dissipated.

Naomi's heart pounded in her chest.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the darkness faded, leaving them once again in the dim light of the setting sun.

The silence was so loud, Naomi felt like she'd lost her hearing entirely.

"Miss Murphy." Naomi looked over at Chiron, whose expression was one of his rarer ones—shock. "What... was that you?"

Naomi's heart crawled into her throat. "I don't—"

Before she could finish her explanation—which was just that she had none—she saw something in the woods.

Everyone else turned to follow her startled gaze. A figure was approaching them, shrouded in a murky green mist.

As it got closer, the campers and Hunters gasped.

"This is impossible," Chiron said, somehow sounding even more shocked—and nervous. "It... she has never left the attic. Never."

And yet the withered mummy that held the Oracle shuffled forward until she stood in the center of the group. Mist curled around their feet, turning the snow a sickly shade of green.

No one dared move.

A voice hissed inside of Naomi's head. Judging from everyone else's reactions, they could all hear it, too.

I am the spirit of Delphi, the voice said. Speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python.

The Oracle regarded Percy with cold, dead eyes. Then she looked from Naomi to Zoë. Approach, Seekers, and ask.

Zoë swallowed, looking at Naomi for a brief moment before returning her attention to the mummy. "What must I do to help my goddess?"

The Oracle's mouth opened, and green mist poured out. Naomi saw the vague image of a mountain, and a girl standing at its barren peak. It was Artemis, but she was wrapped in chains, fettered to the rocks. She was kneeling, her hands raised as if to fend off an attacker, and it looked like she was in pain.

The Oracle spoke:

Six shall go west to the goddess in chains,

One shall be lost in the land without rain.

The bane of Olympus shows the trail,

Campers and hunters combined prevail.

One shall greet death as an old friend,

Where old blood spills and horizons bend.

The Titan's curse must one withstand,

And one shall perish by a parent's hand.

Then, as they all watched, the Mist swirled and retreated like a green serpent into the mummy's mouth. The Oracle sat down on the rock and became as still as a statue, as if she might sit by this creek for a hundred years.

Chapter 50: viii. a council meeting with cheez-whiz and death

Chapter Text

NAOMI HAD NEVER BEEN to a council meeting, seeing as she wasn't a cabin leader, but to Mr. D's dismay (another brat with an opinion, he'd grumbled), Chiron decided it was best she join this time around—since, eerily enough, the Oracle had addressed her, too.

The council was held around a ping-pong table in the Big House's rec room, with snacks supplied by Mr. D. The god in question and Chiron (in wheelchair form) sat at one end of the table. Zoë and Bianca di Angelo (who had sort of become Zoë's personal assistant, from the looks of it) took the other end. Silena pulled up a chair between hers and Miranda's for Naomi to squeeze in, offering her a reassuring smile when she noticed Naomi's nerves.

"Don't worry," she leaned over and whispered. "It's pretty informal here."

That wasn't hard to believe, given the Cheez-Whiz and Diet Coke provided.

On Silena's other side, Beckendorf and the Stolls sat, and across the ping-pong table was Percy, Grover, and Thalia (who was still fuming). The Ares kids were supposed to send a representative, too, but it seemed they'd all ended up in the infirmary from capture the flag.

Zoë started the meeting off with a stern, "This is pointless."

"Cheez-Whiz!" Grover gasped. He began scooping up crackers and ping-pong balls and spraying them with topping.

"There is no need for talk," Zoë continued. "Our goddess needs us. The Hunters must leave immediately."

"And go where?" Chiron asked.

"West!" Bianca said. "You heard the prophecy. 'Six shall go west to the goddess in chains.' We can get six hunters and go."

"Yes," Zoë agreed. "Artemis is being held hostage! We must find her and free her."

"In case your brain is melted from all those years of immortality, the Oracle approached Naomi, too," Silena broke in, not bothering to hide her contempt for the Huntress. "She has to go."

"Plus, the prophecy says, 'Campers and Hunters combined prevail,'" Thalia added. "We're supposed to do this together."

"No!" Zoë said. "The Hunters do not need thy help."

"Your," Thalia grumbled. "Nobody has said thy in like three hundred years, Zoë. Get with the times."

Zoë hesitated, like she was trying to form the word correctly. "Yerrr. We do not need yerrr help."

Thalia rolled her eyes. "Forget it."

"I fear the prophecy says you do need our help," Chiron said. "The Oracle approached a camper and a Hunter. The two groups must cooperate."

"Or do they?" Mr. D mused, swirling his Diet Coke under his nose like it was a fancy wine. "One shall be lost. One shall greet death. One shall perish. That sounds rather nasty, doesn't it? What if you fail because you try to cooperate?"

"Mr. D," Chiron sighed, "with all due respect, whose side are you on?"

Dionysus raised his eyebrows. "Sorry, my dear centaur. Just trying to be helpful."

"We're supposed to work together," Thalia said stubbornly. "I don't like it either, Zoë, but you know prophecies. You want to fight against one?"

Zoë grimaced, but it was clear Thalia had scored a point.

"Fine," she conceded. "I will accept Naomi's presence on the quest."

"It's Naomi's quest, too," Silena said with a scowl. "You don't have to accept her, she's going regardless."

Zoë rolled her eyes at the daughter of Aphrodite, but said nothing on the contrary.

"We must not delay," Chiron warned. "Today is Sunday. This very Friday, December twenty-first, is the winter solstice."

"Oh, joy," Dionysus muttered. "Another dull annual meeting."

"Artemis must be present at the solstice," Zoë said. "She has been one of the most vocal on the council arguing for action against Kronos's minions. If she is absent, the gods will decide nothing. We will lose another year of war preparations."

"Are you suggesting that the gods have trouble acting together, young lady?" Dionysus asked.

"Yes, Lord Dionysus."

Mr. D nodded. "Just checking. You're right, of course. Carry on."

"I must agree with Zoë," said Chiron. "Artemis's presence at the winter council is critical. We have only a week to find her. And possibly even more important: to locate the monster she was hunting. Now, we must decide who goes on this quest with Zoë and Naomi."

"Three and three," Percy said.

Everybody looked at him. Even Thalia forgot she was ignoring him.

"We're supposed to have six," Percy said, looking uncomfortable. "Three Hunters, three from Camp Half-Blood."

Zoë looked at Naomi, and she realized she was waiting for her input.

"Oh, yeah," she said. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Zoë grunted. "I would prefer to take all the Hunters. We will need strength of numbers."

"You'll be retracing the goddess's path," Chiron reminded her. "Moving quickly. No doubt Artemis tracked the scent of this rare monster, whatever it is, as she moved west. You will have to do the same. The prophecy was clear: The bane of Olympus shows the trail. What would your mistress say? 'Too many Hunters spoil the scent.' A small group is best."

Zoë picked up a Ping-Pong paddle and studied it like she was deciding who she wanted to whack first. "This monster—the bane of Olympus. I have hunted at Lady Artemis's side for many years, yet I have no idea what this beast might be."

Everybody looked at Dionysus, probably because he was the only god present and gods were supposed to know stuff. He was flipping through a wine magazine, but when everyone got silent he glanced up, "Well, don't look at me. I'm a young god, remember? I don't keep track of all those ancient monsters and dusty titans. They make for terrible party conversation."

"Chiron," Percy said, "you don't have any ideas about the monster?"

Chiron pursed his lips. "I have several ideas, none of them good. And none of them quite make sense. Typhon, for instance, could fit this description. He was truly a bane of Olympus. Or the sea monster Keto. But if either of these were stirring, we would know it. They are ocean monsters the size of skyscrapers. Your father, Poseidon, would already have sounded the alarm. I fear this monster may be more elusive. Perhaps even more powerful."

"That's some serious danger you're facing," Connor Stoll said. "It sounds like at least half of the questers are going to die."

"One shall be lost in the land without rain," Beckendorf recited. "If I were you, I'd stay out of the desert."

There was a muttering of agreement.

"And the Titan's curse must one withstand," Silena said. "What could that mean?"

Naomi saw Chiron and Zoë exchange a nervous look, but whatever they were thinking, they didn't share it.

"One shall perish by a parent's hand," Grover said in between bites of Cheez-Whiz and Ping-Pong balls. "How is that possible? Whose parent would kill them?"

There was heavy silence around the table.

Something like dread settled in Naomi's stomach. Could an Olympian parent really turn against their half-blood child? It didn't seem possible, but gods were violent, and even some mortals killed their children. What would stop a god from doing the same?

"One shall greet death as an old friend," Miranda recited. "That could go two ways, couldn't it?"

"It could mean death as in the god of death, Thanatos," Thalia pointed out.

"Or it could mean death in the literal sense," Mr. D spoke up.

Another heavy silence. Chiron shot the god an exasperated look.

"Well... here's to hoping for the first one," Travis said.

"There will be deaths," Chiron decided. "That much we know."

"Oh, goody!" Dionysus said.

Everyone stared at him. He glanced up innocently from the pages of Wine Connoisseur magazine. "Ah, Pinot Noir is making a comeback. Don't mind me."

"Percy is right," Silena said. "Three campers should go. Naomi's already going, so that leaves two more spots to fill."

"Oh, I see," Zoë said sarcastically. "And I suppose you wish to volunteer?"

Silena blushed. "I'm not going anywhere with the Hunters. Don't look at me!"

"A daughter of Aphrodite does not wish to be looked at," Zoë scoffed. "What would thy mother say?"

"That's it, you little—" Silena started to get out of her chair, but Naomi and Connor grabbed her arms, pulling her back down.

"Stop it," Beckendorf said. He didn't talk much, but when he did, people listened. "Let's start with the Hunters. Which three of you will go?"

Zoë stood. "I shall go, of course, and I will take Phoebe. She is our best tracker."

"The big girl who likes to hit people on the head?" Travis asked cautiously.

Zoë nodded.

"The one who put the arrows in my helmet?" Connor asked.

"Yes," Zoë snapped. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing," Travis said. "Just that we have a T-shirt for her from the camp store." He held up a big silver T-shirt that said ARTEMIS THE MOON GODDESS, FALL HUNTING TOUR 2002, with a huge list of national parks and stuff underneath. "It's a collector's item. She was admiring it. You want to give it to her?"

Naomi knew the Stolls were up to no good—they always were. But Zoë didn't know them that well. She just sighed and took the shirt. "As I was saying, I will take Phoebe. And I wish Bianca to go."

Bianca looked stunned. "Me? But... I'm so new. I wouldn't be any good."

"You will do fine," Zoë insisted. "There is no better way to prove thyself."

Bianca closed her mouth. Naomi felt bad for her—she remembered her first quest, barely a week after she showed up at camp. That kind of responsibility at such a young age was terrifying.

"And for campers?" Chiron asked.

"Me!" Grover stood up so fast he bumped the Ping-Pong table. He brushed cracker crumbs and Ping-Pong ball scraps off his lap. "Anything to help Artemis!"

Zoë wrinkled her nose. "I think not, satyr. You are not even a half-blood."

"But he is a camper," Naomi said, jumping at the chance to have her friend along. "And he's got a satyr's senses and woodland magic. Can you play a tracker's song yet, Grover?"

"Absolutely!"

Zoë wavered. "Very well," she said. "And the second camper?"

"I'll go." Thalia stood and looked around, daring anyone to question her.

"Whoa, wait a sec," Percy said. "I want to go, too."

Thalia said nothing. Chiron just studied him, his eyes sad.

"Oh," Grover said. "Whoa, yeah, I forgot! Percy has to go. I didn't mean... I'll stay. Percy should go in my place."

"He cannot," Zoë said. "He is a boy. I won't have Hunters traveling with a boy."

"You traveled here with me," Percy reminded her.

"That was a short-term emergency, and it was ordered by the goddess. I will not go across country and fight many dangers in the company of a boy."

"Wait, I get a say in who goes, too," Naomi said. "The Oracle approached us both."

"I'm centuries older than you, girl, I have seniority," Zoë said coldly. "I will have the final say."

"That's not fair," Naomi argued. "We're both supposed to lead this quest."

"Have you ever led anything?" Zoë asked her point-blank. "You're a child compared to me. I won't compromise my goddess's safety to bolster your self-esteem."

"I have to go," Percy argued. "I need to be on this quest."

"Why?" Zoë asked. "Because of thy friend Annabeth?"

Percy's face turned red. "No! I mean, partly. I just feel like I'm supposed to go!"

"No," Zoë said flatly. "I insist upon this. I will take a satyr if I must, but not a male hero."

"Chiron?" Naomi asked, hoping he'd impart some sort of wisdom.

The look he gave her was one of thinly veiled pity. "Zoë has a point, Naomi. It may be best to let her take point for now."

Naomi sat down, defeated. If she hadn't already felt like the world's worst friend for letting Annabeth get taken, now she really felt like the worst. She couldn't even look at Percy—she felt awful.

Chiron cleared his throat. "The matter is settled, then. Naomi, Thalia, and Grover will accompany Zoë, Bianca, and Phoebe. You shall leave at first light. And may the gods—he glanced at Dionysus—"present company included, we hope—be with you."

Naomi didn't have an appetite that night, so when she noticed Percy wasn't at dinner, she slipped away from the Demeter table (taking an orange to keep Miranda from scolding her about her nutrition) and walked to Cabin Three.

She knocked, and when the door opened to a sullen-faced Percy, she held up the orange. "Peace offering?"

Percy sighed, waving her inside as he took the fruit. "You didn't need to bring a peace offering," he muttered. "But thanks."

"I'm sorry I didn't try harder to get Zoë to agree to bring you," Naomi apologized. "I don't even know why the Oracle would approach us both. It's not like Zoë'll ever let me take the lead."

Percy peeled the orange, handing her a slice before popping one into his mouth. After swallowing, he said, "Take it anyway. The Oracle wouldn't have called on you both if you were just supposed to tag along."

"You know it's not that easy," Naomi mumbled. "Zoë's got experience—I don't. I've never led anything."

Percy bumped her shoulder lightly. "There's a first time for everything."

Naomi twisted her ring, frowning at the floor. Here Percy was trying to comfort her when she'd come to comfort him.

"I'll find Annabeth," she promised. "No matter what it takes. Even if I have to take Thalia and Grover and go off on our own search while Zoë isn't looking."

Percy leaned his head against the top of hers. "I know you will," he murmured. "Just be careful. The way that prophecy sounds..." She felt his jaw clench against her temple. "I can't lose you, too."

Naomi opened her mouth to promise she'd be okay, but at the last second, she thought better of it. If she didn't make it back from her quest—and from the sounds of the prophecy, there was a fifty-percent chance of that—she didn't want her last words to her best friend to be a lie to haunt him in the aftermath.

Instead, she just sighed quietly, and prayed to the gods this wouldn't be their final goodbye.

Chapter 51: ix. zoë bullies naomi into submission

Chapter Text

NAOMI DREAMT AGAIN THAT NIGHT. She was back in that barren cave, the ceiling heavy and low above her. Annabeth was kneeling under the weight of a dark mass like a pile of boulders. She was too tired to even cry out. Her legs trembled. Any second, Naomi feared she'd run out of strength and the cavern ceiling would collapse on top of her.

"How is our mortal guest?" a male voice boomed.

It wasn't Kronos—that much Naomi was sure about. This voice was deeper and lower, like a bass guitar. Its force made the ground vibrate.

Luke emerged from the shadows. He ran to Annabeth, knelt beside her, then looked back at the unseen man. "She's fading. We must hurry."

The deep voice chuckled. It belonged to someone in the shadows, at the edge of the dream. Then a meaty hand thrust someone forward into the light—Artemis, her hands and feet bound in celestial bronze chains. Her silver dress was torn and tattered. Her face and arms were cut in several places, and she was bleeding ichor, the golden blood of the gods.

"You heard the boy," the man in the shadows said. "Decide!"

Artemis's eyes flashed with anger. She looked at Annabeth, and her expression changed to concern and outrage. "How dare you torture a maiden like this!"

"She will die soon," Luke said. "You can save her."

Annabeth made a weak noise of protest. Naomi's heart made a home in her throat, constricting her breath. She wanted to run to her, to do something, but she was frozen.

"Free my hands," Artemis said.

Luke brought out his sword, Backbiter. With one expert strike, he broke the goddess's handcuffs.

Artemis ran to Annabeth and took the burden from her shoulders. Annabeth collapsed on the ground and lay there shivering. Artemis staggered, trying to support the weight of theblack rocks.

The man in the shadows chuckled. "You are as predictable as you were easy to beat,Artemis."

"You surprised me," the goddess said, straining under her burden. "It will not happen again."

"Indeed it will not," the man said. "Now you are out of the way for good! I knew you could not resist helping a young maiden. That is, after all, your specialty, my dear."

Artemis groaned "You know nothing of mercy, you swine."

"On that," the man said, "we can agree. Luke, you may kill the girl now."

"No!'" Artemis shouted.

Luke hesitated. "She—she may yet be useful, sir... Further bait."

"Bah! You truly believe that?"

"Yes, General. They will come for her. I'm sure," Luke said. "Lord Kronos wants the Persephone girl secured. She'll come for her friend. It's the perfect opportunity."

"You've tried and failed to secure her three times, am I not mistaken?"

Luke's expression flickered with anger. "But she would not be able to escape you, General."

The man considered it. "That is true," he conceded. "Have the dracaenae guard the girl here. Assuming she does not die from her injuries, you may keep her alive until winter solstice. After that, if our sacrifice goes as planned, her life will be meaningless. The lives of all mortals will be meaningless."

Luke gathered up Annabeth's listless body and carried her away from the goddess.

"You will never find the monster you seek," Artemis said. "Your plan will fail."

"How little you know, my young goddess," the man in the shadows said. "Even now, your darling attendants begin their quest to find you. They shall play directly into my hands. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a long journey to make. We must greet your Hunters and make sure their quest is... challenging."

The man's laughter echoed in the darkness, shaking the ground until it seemed the whole cavern ceiling would collapse.

The dream shifted, and Naomi found herself in a different sort of darkness. Naomi's feet touched more even ground, and her eyes began to adjust, revealing an obsidian throne room and two figures facing off in front of a pair of thrones.

"Darling, I understand you're angry—" the god Hades said, holding his hands up in a sign of surrender.

"Angry?" the goddess Persephone demanded, her voice echoing against the marble floor and walls. "I am way past angry, Hades. I'm furious!"

"Yes, I—I can see that," Hades said. "But if you would just—"

"Seventy years!" Naomi's mother shouted. "You had seventy years to tell me about them, and you said nothing! And you have the nerve to be angry with me for—"

Naomi cleared her throat.

The two gods looked at her.

"Uh... am I interrupting something?"

Persephone sighed, the bulk of the anger on her face fading. "Actually, Naomi—"

"No!" Hades said quickly. "No, you are definitely not. Hello, Naomi."

Naomi blinked. "...Hi?"

He looked at his wife. "I told you she didn't like me."

Persephone huffed, narrowing her eyes at him. "This isn't over," she said tersely, then looked at Naomi, her expression softening. "It's good to see you again, Naomi."

"Well, I'm sort of dreaming, so... don't have much control over where it takes me," Naomi said lamely.

"I know," Persephone said, stepping down from the dais and walking toward her daughter. "I asked Morpheus to do me a favor."

"Ah," Naomi said. "Oo-kay."

"I told you it was weird, darling," Hades muttered under his breath, but still loud enough for Naomi to hear.

Persephone turned her steely gaze toward her husband. "Would you like to sleep in Asphodel tonight, my love?"

Hades shifted uncomfortably. "I'd prefer not to."

"Then watch it."

Hades mumbled an apology.

"Um... was there something you wanted to... talk about?" Naomi asked her mother, feeling more than a little awkward.

"A few things," Persephone said, returning her attention to Naomi. "First, I wanted to congratulate you—you're leading your first quest! I'm told that's a very big deal for demigods."

Naomi shrugged. "Zoë's mostly leading it. I'm not really sure why the Oracle approached us both."

"Do not let that Huntress bully you into submission," Persephone told her sternly. "Zoë may have centuries of experience, but you have heart. More battles are won through passion than with strategy."

Naomi wasn't sure how true that was, but she decided not to comment.

"Now, the second thing." The light in Persephone's eyes faded just a bit. "That display yesterday. I'm sure you have questions."

"A few," Naomi admitted. "What was that? It's like I snapped and everything just went dark. I didn't even mean to do it."

"That's how it usually starts," Hades said, stepping down from the dais as well, though he stayed close to his throne. "The technical term for it is umbrakinesis."

"That sounds like telekinesis for umbrellas," Naomi said.

Persephone laughed softly. "Yes, well, it is certainly more powerful than it sounds. With time and practice, it will come easier. Summoning shadows, veiling yourself and others in darkness—"

"Like on the Sea of Monsters," Naomi remembered. "And the helm of darkness."

"Precisely," Persephone said with a smile.

"Start small," Hades advised. "Visualize shadows in your hand, on the ground. Try to change existing shadows into different shapes. That's the easiest way to start out."

Naomi nodded slowly, a bit disconcerted by the fact that Hades was helping her. Her scary Lord-of-the-Dead stepfather just kept surprising her.

"Thanks," she said, hoping she couldn't sound as confused as she felt. "Was that... all you wanted to talk about?"

Persephone looked back, exchanging a look with Hades. It was strange—Naomi could almost see the unspoken emotion that passed between them.

When Persephone returned her gaze to Naomi, her expression was dimmer. "There is one last thing." She brought her hand up to Naomi's cheek, her touch delicate. "Be safe. You will face things on this quest..." She swallowed. In the background, Naomi saw Hades look away, as if uncomfortable. "Things I wish I could shield you from. So you must be brave and strong, like the heroes who came before you."

Naomi swallowed. "I'm not sure how strong I can be," she admitted.

"As strong as you need to be," Persephone told her. "When the time comes—you'll find the strength you need. And... take care of your quest mates. All of them. And take care of yourself... Kore."

Naomi heard the hesitance in her voice, as if Persephone was waiting for her to flinch at the pet name. The petty part of her wanted to.

But she didn't.

She just nodded, and then the dream was over.

Miranda woke Naomi just before the break of dawn. "Hope you slept well," she said. "Who knows how well you'll be sleeping on your quest."

Naomi sat up slowly. "What time is it?" she asked, looking out of the window. The sky was still dark, but it was starting to get lighter. She cursed under her breath. "I still have to pack—"

"Already ahead of you, Nay." Asher tossed a fully-packed backpack onto her bunk.

"Thanks," Naomi said. "You didn't have to do that."

Miranda smiled. "We'd be shit half-aunts and half-uncles if we didn't help send you off on your big quest the right way. Now get dressed—and do not skip breakfast."

Naomi reached the top of Half-Blood Hill half an hour later, having gotten ready and eaten a bowl of cereal in record time. Silena and Drew had wished her good luck (the former telling her to show the Hunters who was boss, the latter saying to break a nose if need be) at breakfast.

Thalia and Grover were already there when she reached the hill, packed and ready to go. She didn't see the Hunters yet, but the sun was beginning its ascent into the sky, and the camp van was running, its exhaust spilling out visible smoke.

"Ready?" Grover asked.

"Ready as I can be," Naomi answered. "Where're the Hunters?"

"Running late," Thalia muttered. "Figured Zoë would be a stickler for punctuality, but apparently not."

As soon as she said that, Zoë and Bianca made it to the hill—just Zoë and Bianca.

"Where's that Phoebe girl?" Thalia asked.

"She will not be coming," Zoë said shortly. "She has fallen ill."

Naomi frowned. "Well we can't just go with five people. The prophecy calls for six."

"We will be fine," Zoë said. "It is first light. We must get going. The keys, please, Argus."

"You can't just—"

"Dost thou really want to bring another person into a quest that may prove to be their last?" Zoë asked. "I will not risk any more of my sisters' lives, but perhaps you care less for the lives of your friends."

Naomi felt a coil of unfamiliar anger. "That's not fair. The prophecy was specific, we can't just defy it right off the bat!"

"So thou proposes to bring another camper to fall?" Zoë retorted. "Fine. Choose. But do not weep to me at their funeral."

Naomi glared at her, trying to think of a comeback.

When it was clear she had none, Zoë took the van keys from Argus's outstretched hand and hit the unlock button. "If that is all, shall we go?"

Zoë drove like a lunatic. Naomi was too mad to make small talk and too embarrassed to even look at her friends. She felt like a coward, backing down so easily after her mother had told her—do not let that Huntress bully you into submission.

But she had. And she was ashamed of herself for doing it.

They drove through Manhattan's wild traffic. They made it through New Jersey without incident.

When they reached Maryland, Zoë was forced to pull into a gas station. They all went into the convenience store to use the restroom (and for Grover to get a bag of jellybeans), then they had Grover do his tracking spell to decide their next move.

"Grover, you're sure?" Thalia said as they left the store.

"Well... pretty sure," Grover said. "Ninety-nine percent. Okay, eighty-five percent."

"And you did this with acorns?" Bianca asked in disbelief.

Grover looked offended. "It's a time-honored tracking spell. I mean, I'm pretty sure I did it right."

"D.C. is about sixty miles from here," Bianca said. "Nico and I..." She frowned. "We used to live there. That's... that's strange. I'd forgotten.

"I dislike this," Zoë said. "We should go straight west. The prophecy said west."

"The prophecy also said six, but you don't seem to care much about the prophecy," Naomi muttered, earning a snicker from Thalia and a glare from Zoë.

"What, Zoë, like your tracking skills are better?" Thalia taunted.

Zoë stepped toward her. "You challenge my skills, you scullion? You know nothing of being a Hunter!"

"Oh, scullion? You're calling me a scullion? What the heck is a scullion?"

"Stop it!" Naomi snapped, fed up with their constant bickering. "Grover's right. D.C.'s our best bet."

Zoë didn't look convinced, but for once, she conceded with a reluctant nod. "Very well. Let us keep moving."

"You're going to get us arrested, driving," Thalia grumbled. "They frown upon pre-teens behind the wheel."

"Perhaps," Zoë snapped. "But I have been driving since automobiles were invented. Let us go."

They reached D.C. by midday. Zoë parked at a curb, and everyone got out.

"Right there," Grover said, pointing toward one of the buildings lining the mall.

Thalia nodded. "Let's go. Everyone stay sharp."

"I am always sharp," Zoë said.

Thalia mumbled something profane under her breath.

Naomi stifled a sneeze with her elbow, glaring through watery eyes at the grass. Gods, winter was so annoying. Just because Persephone had to go down to the Underworld for six months didn't mean Naomi should have to suffer from seasonal allergies. It wasn't fair.

The group followed after Grover, huddling into their coats and braving the cold. After so long Naomi's fingers were going numb, Grover finally stopped in front of a big building that read AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM.

Thalia checked the door, which was unlocked. She stuck her head in, checking for any threats, then ushered everyone inside.

Chapter 52: x. naomi blindfolds a monster cat

Chapter Text

THIS WAS, WITHOUT A DOUBT, the most boring quest Naomi had ever been on.

And yeah, maybe it was only the third one she'd been on, but still.

"How much longer are we going to be walking, Grover?" Thalia asked, clearly just as bored. "I didn't come on this quest to sightsee in the Smithsonian."

"Give me a minute!" Grover said. "I think—"

Naomi yelped as she was knocked into Thalia from behind, the two just missing the opening of the Apollo capsule.

Grover jumped in surprise.

When Naomi got her bearings, she looked back to see Percy, panting like he'd run a marathon. Zoë and Bianca already had arrows aimed at his chest, though when she registered who it was, Zoë still didn't lower her bow.

"You! How dare you show thy face here?"

"Percy!" Grover said. "Thank goodness."

Zoë glared at him, and he blushed. "I mean, um, gosh. You're not supposed to be here!"

"Luke," Percy said, struggling to catch his breath. "He's here."

The anger on Thalia's face faded in an instant. She put a hand on her silver bracelet. "Where?"

Percy told them about what he'd witnessed in the Natural History Museum—Dr. Thorn, Luke, the General, all that jazz.

"The General is here?" Zoë looked stunned. "That is impossible! You lie."

"Why would I lie? Look, there's no time. Skeleton warriors—"

"What?" Thalia demanded. "How many?"

"Twelve," Percy said. "And that's not all. That guy, the General, he said he was sending something, a 'playmate,' to distract you over here. A monster."

"We were following Artemis's trail," Grover said. "I was pretty sure it led here. Some powerful monster scent... She must've stopped here looking for the mystery monster. But we haven't found anything yet."

"Zoë," Bianca said nervously, "if it is the General—"

"It cannot be!" Zoë snapped. "Percy must have seen an Iris-message or some other illusion."

"Illusions don't crack marble floors," Percy retorted.

Zoë took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "If Percy is telling the truth about the skeleton warriors," she said, "we have no time to argue. They are the worst, most horrible... we must leave now."

"Good idea," Percy said.

"I was not including thee, boy," Zoë said. "You are not part of this—"

"Shut up!" Naomi said it louder than she meant to, and her companions looked at her, startled. Even Zoë fell silent in surprise. Naomi's face warmed, but she pushed on. "I'm a leader of this quest, too. Percy's coming with us. End of discussion."

Zoë stared at her, her expression torn between anger and grudging respect. The anger seemed to be winning, and she opened her mouth—probably to protest some more—when a growl as loud as a rocket engine sounded.

Below them, a few adults screamed. A little kid's voice screeched with delight: "Kitty!"

Something enormous bounded up the ramp. It was the size of a pick-up truck, with silver claws and golden glittering fur.

"The Nemean Lion," Thalia said. "Don't move."

The lion roared so loudly Naomi's bangs flew up. His fangs gleamed like stainless steel.

"Separate on my mark," Zoë said. "Try to keep it distracted."

"Until when?" Grover asked.

"Until I think of a way to kill it. Go!"

Naomi summoned Hemlock and ran to the right. Arrows whistled past, and Grover played a sharp tweet-tweet cadence on his reed pipes. Zoë and Bianca were climbing the Apollo capsule, firing arrow after arrow, but they all shattered harmlessly against the lion's metallic fur.

The lion swiped at the capsule and tipped it on its side, spilling the Hunters off the back. Grover played a frantic, horrible tune, and the lion turned toward him, but Thalia stepped into its path, holding up Aegis, and the lion recoiled. "ROOOAAAR!"

"Hi-yah!" Thalia said. "Back!"

The lion growled and clawed the air, but it retreated as if the shield were a blazing fire.

For a second, Naomi was sure Thalia had it under control. Then she saw the lion crouching, its leg muscles tensing—preparing to pounce.

"Hey!" Percy yelled, charging the beast. He slashed with his sword, but the blade just clanged against its fur in a burst of sparks.

The lion raked him with its claws, ripping off a chunk of his coat. Percy backed against the railing as the beast sprang, giving him no choice but to turn and jump.

The beast followed him down, roaring.

Naomi panicked, trying to think of a plan to stop the beast, but she couldn't come up with one.

But maybe she could buy time for someone else to.

Naomi lowered her sword, focusing on the monster's head—its eyes. She pictured a blindfold made of shadows covering its eyes, cutting off its vision. Please please please work.

Her stomach twisted, and shadows flickered to life over the beast's eyes, making it stop mid-roar. It let out a confused, agitated noise.

"Zoë!" Percy shouted. "Target the mouth!"

The monster tried to swipe at its own face, as if it could rub off the shadow-blindfold Naomi had created. The darkness wavered as the paw passed through it, but Naomi clenched her jaw, and it went back to normal.

Percy jumped from the spaceship he and the Nemean Lion had been standing on, and the craft pitched under the monster's weight. One of the cords snapped, and as the display swung down like a wrecking ball, the beast scrambled for purchase, scratching its claws through the aircraft like it was made of butter.

Still blinded, the lion somehow managed to land unsteadily onto a huge model of the earth.

"Grover!" Percy yelled. "Clear the area!"

Groups of kids were running around and screaming. Grover tried to corral them away from the monster just as the other cord on the spaceship snapped and crashed to the floor. Thalia dropped off the second-floor railing and landed across from Percy on the opposite side of the globe.

"No clear shot!" Zoë yelled, her bow raised. "Get it to open its mouth more!"

The lion snarled angrily.

Percy disappeared into the gift shop, returning a few moments later with an armful of silver packets. He hurled his sword like a throwing knife. It bounced off the lion's side, but it turned its blinded face in Percy's direction, snarling.

The lion roared, and Percy threw a silver packet into the beast's open mouth.

The beast gagged like a cat with a hairball.

"Zoë, get ready!" Percy yelled. "Nay, keep it blind!"

In the distance, Naomi could hear people screaming. Grover was playing another horrible song on his pipes.

Percy scrambled away from the monster as it choked down the space-food packet. It stupidly roared again, giving Percy a chance to throw another silver packet down its throat, then three more before it could close its mouth.

The lion opened its mouth wide, rearing up on its back paws, trying to get away from Percy and his silver packets of death.

"Now!"

Immediately, arrows sprouted from the lion's maw—two, four, six. The lion thrashed wildly, turned and fell backward. And then it was still.

Alarms wailed throughout the museum. People were flocking to the exits. Security guards were running around in a panic with no idea what was going on.

Cautiously, Naomi lifted her shadow blindfold. She walked over to Percy as Bianca and Zoë dropped down from the balcony.

Zoë eyed Percy cautiously. "That was... an interesting strategy."

"Hey, it worked."

For once, the Huntress didn't argue.

The lion seemed to be melting, the way dead monsters do, until there was nothing left but its glittering fur coat, and even that seemed to be shrinking to the size of a normal lion's pelt.

"Take it," Zoë told Percy.

Percy stared at her. "What, the lion's fur? Isn't that, like, an animal rights violation or something?"

"It is a spoil of war," she said. "It is rightly thine."

"You killed it," Percy said.

She shook her head, almost smiling. "I think thy ice-cream sandwich did that. Fair is fair, Percy Jackson. Take the fur."

Percy lifted it up. As they watched, the pelt shifted and changed into a full-length golden-brown coat.

"Not exactly my style," he murmured.

"Do you even have a style?" Naomi asked.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Ha-ha."

"We have to get out of here," Grover said. "The security guards won't stay confused for long."

Naomi realized for the first time that the security guards weren't rushing forward to arrest them. They were scrambling in all directions except for theirs, like they were madly searching for something. A few were running into the walls or each other.

"You did that?" Percy asked Grover.

He nodded, looking a little embarrassed. "A minor confusion song. I played some Barry Manilow. It works every time. But it'll only last a few seconds."

"The security guards are not our biggest worry," Zoë said. "Look."

Through the glass walls of the museum, Naomi could see a group of men walking across the lawn. Gray men in gray camouflage outfits, their flesh almost transparent against their skeletons.

"Go," Percy said. "They'll be hunting me. I'll distract them."

"No," Naomi said. "We're going together." She looked at Zoë, lifting her chin to feign confidence (fake-it-'til-you-make-it was becoming her go-to strategy). "Any objections?"

Zoë 's jaw ticked. "No," she said grudgingly. "I do not like it, but Naomi is right. You are the sixth quest member. And we are not leaving anyone behind."

They were crossing the Potomac when they spotted the helicopter. It was a sleek black military model just like the one they'd seen at Westover Hall—and it was coming straight toward them.

"They know the van," Percy said. "We have to ditch it."

Zoë swerved into the fast lane. The helicopter was gaining.

"Maybe the military will shoot it down," Grover said hopefully.

"The military probably thinks it's one of theirs," Percy said. "How can the General use mortals, anyway?"

"Mercenaries," Zoë said bitterly. "It is distasteful, but many mortals will fight for any cause as long as they are paid."

"But don't these mortals see who they're working for?" Percy asked. "Don't they notice all the monsters around them?"

Zoë shook her head. "I do not know how much they see through the Mist. I doubt it would matter to them if they knew the truth. Sometimes mortals can be more horrible than monsters."

The helicopter kept coming, making a lot better time than they were through D.C. traffic.

Thalia closed her eyes and prayed hard. "Hey, Dad. A lightning bolt would be nice about now. Please?"

But the sky stayed gray and snowy. No sign of a helpful thunderstorm.

"There!" Bianca said. "That parking lot!"

"We'll be trapped," Zoë said.

"Trust me," Bianca said.

Zoë shot across two lanes of traffic and into a mall parking lot on the south bank of the river. They left the van and followed Bianca down some steps.

"Subway entrance," Bianca said. "Let's go south. Alexandria."

"Anything," Thalia agreed.

They bought tickets and got through the turnstiles, looking behind them for any signs of pursuit. A few minutes later, they were safely aboard a southbound train, riding away from D.C. As their train came above ground, they could see the helicopter circling the parking lot, but it didn't come after them.

Grover let out a sigh. "Nice job, Bianca, thinking of the subway."

Bianca looked pleased. "Yeah, well. I saw that station when Nico and I came through last summer. I remember being really surprised to see it, because it wasn't here when we used to live in D.C."

Grover frowned. "New? But that station looked really old."

"I guess," Bianca said. "But trust me, when we lived here as little kids, there was no subway."

Thalia sat forward. "Wait a minute. No subway at all?"

Bianca nodded.

Naomi had never been to D.C. before today, nor did she know much about it, but she didn't see how their whole subway system could be less than twelve years old. She guessed she wasn't the only one confused, judging by her companions' expressions.

"Bianca," Zoë said. "How long ago..." Her voice faltered. The sound of the helicopter was getting louder again.

"We need to change trains," Naomi said. "Next station."

Over the next half hour, all they could focus on was getting away safely. They changed trains twice. Naomi had no idea where they were going, but after a while, they lost the helicopter.

Unfortunately, when they reached the end of the line, they were in an industrial area with nothing but warehouses and railway tracks. And snow. Lots of snow. It was freezing.

They wandered through the railway yard, thinking there might be another passenger train somewhere, but there were just rows and rows of freight cars, most of which were covered in snow, like they hadn't moved in years.

A homeless man was standing at a trashcan fire. They must've looked pretty sad, because he gave them a toothless grin and said, "Y'all need to get warmed up? Come on over!"

They huddled around his fire. Thalia's teeth were chattering. "Well this is g-g-g-great."

Naomi couldn't feel her fingers or her toes. She figured she wouldn't be able to hold a sword if her fingers snapped off from frostbite, but luckily, Percy wrapped them both in his new lion-skin coat and held her hands in his to warm them up.

Naomi's cheeks were definitely thawing out quicker than the rest of her body.

"My hooves are frozen," Grover complained.

"Feet," Percy corrected over Naomi's head, for the sake of the homeless man.

"Maybe we should contact camp," Bianca said. "Chiron—"

"No," Zoë said. "They cannot help us any more. We must finish this quest ourselves."

Naomi felt miserable, and it was only half due to the cold. Somewhere, far to the west, Annabeth was in danger. Artemis was in chains. A doomsday monster was on the loose. And they were stuck on the outskirts of D.C. sharing a homeless person's fire.

"You know," the homeless man said, "you're never completely without friends." His face was grimy and his beard tangled, but his expression was kind. "You kids need a train going west?"

"Yes, sir," Percy said. "You know of any?"

He pointed one greasy hand.

Suddenly Naomi noticed a freight train, gleaming and free of snow. It was one of those automobile-carrier trains, with steel mesh curtains and a triple-deck of cars inside. The side of the freight train said SUN WEST LINE.

"That's... convenient," Thalia said. "Thanks, uh..."

She turned to the homeless man, but he was gone. The trashcan in front of them was cold and empty, as if he'd taken the flames with him.

An hour later, they were rumbling west among a plethora of luxury sports cars.

Naomi sat cross-legged on the hood of some fancy-looking car with a red and black paint job. Grover was trying to impress Zoë and Bianca with his subpar music skills, and Percy and Thalia were talking (or arguing... it was hard to tell with them).

Naomi held out her hand, palm facing the ceiling. She imagined a small black cloud in the center of her palm, and before her eyes, that very thing materialized.

She willed it into simple shapes—a sphere, a cube, a prism. She imagined it taking the shape of a hand, then a lightbulb, then a bird. At her silent prompting, the shadow bird's wings flapped, rising into the air above her palm.

"Have you always been able to do that?"

Naomi looked up as Bianca sat down on the hood next to her, watching the fluttering bird with a look of amazement.

"No," Naomi admitted. "The capture-the-flag thing was the first time."

Bianca nodded. "It's really cool," she said. "And useful. That was smart thinking, blinding the Nemean Lion. Hard to attack when you can't see."

"Yeah," Naomi agreed. "Apparently it's called 'umbrakinesis.'"

"Sounds like telekinesis with umbrellas," Bianca said.

Naomi smiled in amusement. "That's what I said."

"So, your mom's really Persephone?" Bianca asked. At Naomi's nod, she asked, "Are you guys close?"

Naomi bit her lip. "Not really," she admitted. "I only found out Persephone was my mom a few months after I got to camp. Before that, I thought I was an orphan."

Bianca nodded. "You told me that, at Westover Hall," she said quietly. "How... how did you handle it? The shift from being an orphan to being... not an orphan, I guess?"

"It was definitely jarring," Naomi told her. "I resented my hypothetical parents for a long time. I thought they just didn't want me, but... gods aren't allowed to raise their mortal children. Persephone... helped me in other ways."

"What about your dad?" Bianca asked softly.

The shadow-bird landed on Naomi's bent knee. "I don't know anything about him," she confessed. "I... I'm kind of afraid to ask my mom about him. About why he isn't in the picture."

She had theories, of course—the biggest one being that Hades had his wife's lover killed as soon as he found out about the affair. Another was that her dad had reacted poorly to finding out he was going to have a kid and ran off. Yet another was that Persephone had never even told him he had a kid.

But Naomi was too afraid to get answers. Answers made it real, and a frightened, wary part of her thought she was better off not knowing.

"I... I remember my mom," Bianca admitted. "Not that well, but... She was there. She was nice and... and warm. And then she was gone."

"I'm sorry," Naomi murmured.

"Nico barely remembers her," Bianca said quietly. "I can't figure out if that's better or worse than remembering and missing."

"You can still miss someone you don't remember," Naomi pointed out. "At least... you can miss the idea of them."

Bianca nodded slowly. "Yeah."

They both fell silent for a moment, watching Naomi's shadow-bird fly up toward the ceiling and swoop back down, almost like it was showing off.

"Nico hates me for joining the Hunt," Bianca whispered after a moment. "And I don't blame him. But I just... it's always been my job to keep him safe, to raise him. And I was fine with that, but now that there're other options..." She looked at Naomi. "He'll be safe at camp, right? And happy?"

"It's the safest place for kids like us," Naomi assured her. "It's the safest place he can be. He'll train, he'll make friends. Might even gain a few siblings, depending on who your parent is."

Bianca cracked a tiny, hopeful smile. "When you go back, can you... can you look out for him?" she asked. "Just... make sure he stays out of trouble?"

"Of course," Naomi said. "And, I know I don't know you two that well, but... I'm sure Nico won't hate you for long. He'll understand eventually."

Bianca nodded. "I hope so."

Chapter 53: xi. zoe offers some unsolicited advice

Chapter Text

BY THE TIME THE TRAIN STOPPED, they'd reached the outskirts of a little ski town nestled in the mountains. The sign said WELCOME TO CLOUDCROFT, NEW MEXICO. The air was cold and thin. The roofs of the cabins were heaped with snow, and dirty mounds of it were piled up on the sides of the streets. Tall pine trees loomed over the valley, casting pitch-black shadows, though the morning was sunny.

As they walked through the small town, Percy told Naomi and Grover about his conversation with Apollo (disguised as a homeless guy named Fred, naturally) the night before—how he'd said to seek out Nereus in San Francisco.

Grover looked uneasy. "That's good, I guess. But we've got to get there first."

The winter solstice was in four days—four days to free Artemis, save Annabeth, and stop whoever this awful General was.

They stopped in the middle of town, where they had a few of just about everything: a school, a bunch of tourist stores and cafes, a couple of ski cabins, and a local grocery store instead of one of those chains Naomi remembered in Manhattan.

"Great," Thalia said, looking around. "No bus station. No taxis. No car rental. No way out."

"There's a coffee shop!" Grover said.

"Yes," Zoë said. "Coffee is good."

"And pastries," Grover said dreamily. "And wax paper."

Thalia sighed. "Fine. How about you two and Naomi go get us some food. Percy, Bianca, and I will check in the grocery store. Maybe they can give us directions."

They all agreed to meet back in front of the grocery store in fifteen minutes.

The café was, predictably, empty. From the looks of it, there were only two employees working today—a teenage boy leaning against the counter next to the cash register, scrolling on his phone with a bored expression and a teenage girl glaring at one of the fancy coffee machines like it had called her mother a rude name.

The boy stood up slowly, still looking bored. "Welcome to Cloudcroft Café, how can I serve you today?"

"Can we get a moment, please?" Naomi asked, smiling politely.

"Whatever."

Zoë sneered none-too-subtly at his laissez-faire attitude.

Grover gasped, shaking Naomi's arm excitedly. "They have macarons!"

"I can see that."

They figured out what they wanted (guessing for the rest of the group) and Grover volunteered to give the order, leaving Naomi and Zoë to wait at one of the two tables inside of the small café.

It was as awkward as Naomi anticipated.

After a full minute of the most tense silence Naomi had ever experienced, Zoë spoke. "I am... sorry, if I have offended thee on this quest. I realize I may have been a bit... harsh toward thee."

May? A bit? Naomi let it go. "I know you're worried about Artemis," she mumbled. "I just wish you wouldn't take it out on the rest of us. Especially Percy."

Annoyance crossed the Hunter's face. "Thou must be careful of him."

Naomi frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"He will break thy heart," Zoë said, her tone as sure as the shift from winter to spring.

Naomi's cheeks felt warm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Zoë looked at her, an eyebrow raised. "I have not been a maiden so long as to forget the look of love on a naïve girl's face," she said. "It will only end in thy misery."

Naomi narrowed her eyes at the cynical Huntress. "I'm not in love," she muttered. "And besides, you don't even know him."

"I know boys like him," Zoë said. "Heroes. Warriors. All they understand is the breaking of bones and hearts. They know nothing of love."

Naomi watched her, trying to understand why Zoë sounded so unshakingly certain. "Did a hero break your heart?"

Zoë's gaze could have melted steel. "There is a reason I became a Hunter."

Before Naomi could respond to that, Grover plopped down into the chair next to her. "Ten minutes," he reported with a grin. "What're you ladies talking about?"

Eleven minutes later, Naomi, Zoë, and Grover exited the café with pastry bags and drinks in hand and made their way over to the grocery store. When they reached Bianca and Percy (Thalia was nowhere in sight, though neither of them looked worried, so Naomi figured she was alright), they divided up the goods. Hot chocolate for Naomi, Bianca, and Percy. Coffee for Grover, Zoë, and Thalia. Naomi took a bite of the chocolate éclair Grover had insisted she tried, and made a mental note to thank him for the suggestion.

"We should do the tracking spell," Zoë said. "Grover, do you have any acorns left?"

"Umm," Grover mumbled. He was chewing on a bright yellow macaroon. "I think so. I just need to—"

He froze.

Naomi was about to ask what was wrong when a warm breeze rustled past, like a gust of springtime had gotten lost in the middle of winter. Naomi breathed it in, wondering for a moment if her mother had come to pay a visit. It smelled just like her—like wildflowers and crisp fresh air. And there was something else—almost like a voice, trying to say something. A warning.

Zoë gasped. "Grover, thy cup."

Grover dropped his coffee cup, which was decorated with pictures of birds. Suddenly the birds peeled off the cup and flew away—a tiny flock of doves. A rubber rat on the railing beside them squeaked. It scampered off the railing and into the trees—real fur, real whiskers.

Grover collapsed next to his coffee, which steamed against the snow. They gathered around him and tried to wake him up. He groaned, his eyes fluttering.

"Hey!" Thalia said, running up from the street. "I just... What's wrong with Grover?"

"I don't know," Percy said. "He collapsed."

"Uuuuuuhhhh," Grover groaned.

"Well, get him up!" Thalia said. She had her spear in her hand. She looked behind her as if she were being followed. "We have to get out of here."

They made it to the edge of town before the first two skeleton warriors appeared. They stepped from the trees on either side of the road. Instead of camouflage, they now wore blue New Mexico State Police uniforms, but they had the same transparent grey skin and yellow eyes.

They drew their handguns, taking aim.

Thalia tapped his bracelet. Aegis spiraled to life on her arm, but the warriors didn't flinch. Their glowing yellow eyes bored right into Percy.

Naomi drew Hemlock, but she didn't see how it would be any good against guns.

Percy drew his sword, too. Zoë and Bianca drew their bows, but Bianca was having trouble because Grover kept swooning and leaning against her.

"Back up," Thalia said.

They started to—but then Naomi heard a rustling of branches. Three more skeletons appeared on the road behind them.

They were surrounded.

One of the warriors raised a cell phone to his mouth and spoke into it—except, he wasn't speaking. He made a clattering, clicking sound, like dry teeth on bone. Naomi realized what was going on—they were calling for backup.

Soon, they'd be completely overwhelmed.

"It's near," Grover moaned.

"It's here," Percy said.

"No," he insisted. "The gift. The gift from the Wild."

"There's five of them and five of us," Naomi said. "If we each take one, they shouldn't be able to get to Grover."

"Agreed," Zoë said.

"The Wild!" Grover moaned.

A warm wind blew through the canyon, rustling the trees, filling Naomi's lungs with a scent that was as close to home as she knew.

Percy charged, and the battle began.

Naomi sprinted to meet one of the skeleton warriors head-on, sidestepping at the last second as it pulled the trigger, a bullet embedding in a tree nearby. Naomi brought Hemlock down like a cleaver, slicing the skeleton warrior's hand clean off his wrist. She kicked the hand—and the gun it still clenched in its skeletal fist—as far away as she could.

The skeleton clattered his teeth angrily, drawing a baton from his side and lifting it over its head. Naomi ducked as it swung, trying to slice through the skeleton's middle but only grazing it as she was forced to lean out of the way of a second baton swipe. She staggered backward, buying herself a second to strategize.

"Percy!" Thalia screamed.

Naomi turned, terror coursing through her as she saw her best friend lying facedown in the street. She moved to run to him, but her skeleton-buddy charged at her, stealing her attention.

She dodged yet another swipe of the skeleton's baton, making a move to slice its head clean off, but it seemed the skeleton warriors were capable of learning from their past mistakes. With more momentum than she was expecting, it swung again in the opposite direction.

Naomi managed to dance out of the way for the most part, but the tip of the baton hit her left arm hard, and she bit back a curse.

She straightened up and swung Hemlock, the skeleton raising its baton to intercept. Naomi's blade sliced through it with relative ease, but the sudden change in velocity gave the skeleton warrior a chance to punch her straight in the face.

Fun fact: bony fists hurt.

In her blurry vision, she spotted Percy back on his feet, which was as relieving as it was confusing, because she was fairly certain he'd been shot at least once. Zoë and Bianca were firing their arrows at two more warriors, Thalia charging another. Grover stood there and held his hands out to the trees, like he wanted to hug them.

The skeleton charged again.

Taking a risk, Naomi stood in place, watching it advance as quickly as a non-skeletal warrior. A second before it reached her, she spun on one foot out of the way, stabbing it in the midsection.

The skeleton burst into flames, leaving a little pile of ashes and a police badge.

"How did you do that?" Zoë yelled.

Naomi turned, but Zoë wasn't looking at her. She was looking at Bianca, who stood with her hunting knife out, a similar pile of ashes at her feet.

"I don't know," Bianca said nervously. "Lucky shot?"

"Let Bianca and I take them!" Naomi shouted. She couldn't begin to understand why they could kill the warriors, but she wasn't keen on looking a gift horse in the mouth when her and her friends' lives were on the line.

Unfortunately, the three remaining skeletons were wary of the two girls now. They pressed the group back, keeping them at a baton's length.

"Plan?" Percy said as they retreated.

Nobody answered. The trees behind the skeletons were shivering. Branches were cracking.

"A gift," Grover muttered.

And then, with a mighty roar, the largest pig Naomi had ever seen came crashing into the road. It was a wild boar, thirty feet tall, with a snotty pink snout and tusks the size of canoes. Its back bristled with brown hair, and its eyes were wild and angry.

"REEEEEEEEET!" it squeaked, and raked the three skeletons aside with its tusks. The force was so great, they went flying over the trees and into the side of the mountain, where they smashed to pieces, thigh bones and arm bones twirling everywhere.

Then the pig turned on the questers.

Thalia raised her spear, but Grover yelled, "Don't kill it.'"

The boar grunted and pawed the ground, ready to charge.

"That's the Erymanthian Boar," Zoë said, trying to stay calm. "I don't think we can kill it."

"It's a gift," Grover said. "A blessing from the Wild!"

The boar said "REEEEEEET!" and swung its tusk. Naomi, Zoë, and Bianca dove out of the way. Percy had to push Grover so he wouldn't get launched into the mountain on the Boar Tusk Express.

"Yeah, I feel blessed!" Percy said. "Scatter!"

They all ran in different directions, and for a moment the boar was confused.

"It wants to kill us!" Thalia said.

"Of course," Grover said. "It's wild!"

"So how is that a blessing?" Bianca asked.

It seemed like a fair question to Naomi, but the pig was offended and charged her. Bianca moved faster than Naomi expected, rolling out of the way of its hooves and coming up behind the beast. It lashed out with its tusks and pulverized the WELCOME TO CLOUDCROFT sign.

"Keep moving!" Zoë yelled. She, Bianca, and Naomi ran in opposite directions. Grover danced around the boar, playing his pipes while the boar snorted and tried to gouge him. But Thalia and Percy won the prize for bad luck. When the boar turned on them, Thalia made the mistake of raising Aegis in defense. The sight of the Medusa head made the boar squeal in outrage, and it charged.

By the time they found Thalia and Percy, their boar-blessing was buried in the snow like Styrofoam packing. It didn't seem to be hurt, but it was definitely stuck, at least for now.

"A blessing of the Wild," Grover said, though now he just looked agitated.

"I agree," Zoë said. "We must use it."

"Hold up," Thalia said irritably. She looked like she'd just lost a fight with a Christmas tree. "Explain to me why you're so sure this pig is a blessing."

Grover looked over, distracted. "It's our ride west. Do you have any idea how fast this boar can travel?"

"Fun," Percy said. "Like... pig cowboys."

Grover nodded. "We need to get aboard. I wish... I wish I had more time to look around. But it's gone now."

"What's gone?"

Grover didn't seem to hear Percy. He walked over to the boar and jumped on its back. Already the boar was starting to make some headway through the drift. Once it broke free, there'd be no stopping it. Grover took out his pipes. He started playing a snappy tune and tossed an apple in front of the boar. The apple floated and spun right above the boar's nose, and the boar went nuts, straining to get it.

"Automatic steering," Thalia murmured. "Great."

She trudged over and jumped on behind Grover, which still left plenty of room for the rest of them.

Zoë and Bianca walked toward the boar. "Wait a second," Percy said. "Do you two know what Grover is talking about—this wild blessing?"

"Of course," Zoë said. "Did you not feel it in the wind? It was so strong... I never thought I would sense that presence again."

"What presence?"

She stared at him like he was an idiot. "The Lord of the Wild, of course. Just for a moment, in the arrival of the boar, I felt the presence of Pan."

Chapter 54: xii. naomi becomes entertainment for a pretty goddess

Chapter Text

THEY RODE THE BOAR UNTIL SUNSET. Naomi had no idea how many miles they covered, but the mountains faded into the distance and were replaced by miles of flat dry land. The grass and scrub brush got sparser until they were galloping (or however boars ran) across the desert.

As night fell, the boar came to a stop at a creek bed and snorted. He started drinking the muddy water, then ripped a saguaro cactus out of the ground and chewed it, needles and all.

"This is as far as he'll go," Grover said. "We need to get off while he's eating."

Nobody needed convincing. They slipped off the boar's back while he was busy ripping up cacti.

After its third saguaro and another drink of muddy water, the boar squealed and belched, then whirled around and galloped back toward the east.

"It likes the mountains better," Percy guessed.

"I can't blame it," Thalia said. "Look."

Ahead of them was a two-lane road half blown over with sand. On the other side of the road was a cluster of buildings too small to be a town: a boarded-up house, a taco shop that looked like it hadn't been open since before Zoe was born, and a white stucco post office with a sign that said GILA CLAW, ARIZONA hanging crooked above the door. Beyond that was a range of hills... no, not hills. The countryside was way too flat for that. The hills were enormous mounds of old cars, appliances, and other scrap metal. It was a junkyard that seemed to go on forever.

"Whoa," Percy marveled.

"Something tells me we're not going to find a car rental here," Thalia said. She looked at Grover. "I don't suppose you got another wild boar up your sleeve?"

Grover was sniffing the wind, looking nervous. He fished out his acorns and threw them into the sand, then played his pipes. They rearranged themselves in a pattern that made no sense to Naomi, but Grover looked concerned.

"That's us," he said. "Those six nuts right there."

"Which one is me?" Percy asked.

"The little deformed one," Zoë suggested.

"Oh, shut up."

"That cluster right there," Grover said, pointing to the left, "that's trouble."

"Monster?" Naomi asked.

Grover looked uneasy. "I don't smell anything, which doesn't make sense. But the acorns don't lie. Our next challenge..."

He pointed toward the junkyard. With the sunlight almost gone now, the hills of metal looked like something on an alien planet.

They decided to camp for the night and try the junkyard in the morning. No one wanted to go dumpster-diving in the dark.

Zoë and Bianca produced six sleeping bags and foam mattresses out of their backpacks. Naomi wasn't sure how they did it, because the packs were tiny, but she figured they must've been enchanted to hold more stuff. Their bows and quivers were magic, too. Naomi had never really given it much thought, but when the Hunters needed them, they just appeared slung over their backs. And when they didn't, they were gone.

The night air got chilly fast, so Grover and Percy collected old boards from the ruined house, and Thalia zapped them with an electric shock to start a campfire. Pretty soon they were about as comfy as you can get in a rundown ghost town in the middle of nowhere.

"The stars are out," Zoë said.

She was right. There were millions of them, with no city lights to turn the sky orange.

"Amazing," Bianca said. "I've never actually seen the Milky Way."

"This is nothing," Zoë said. "In the old days, there were more. Whole constellations have disappeared because of human light pollution."

"You talk like you're not human," Percy said.

Zoë raised an eyebrow. "I am a Hunter. I care what happens to the wild places of the world. Can the same be said for thee?"

"For you," Thalia corrected. "Not thee."

"But you use you for the beginning of a sentence."

"And for the end," Thalia said. "No thou. No thee. Just you."

Zoë threw up her hands in exasperation. "I hate this language. It changes too often!"

Grover sighed. He was still looking up at the stars like he was thinking about the light pollution problem. "If only Pan were here, he would set things right."

Zoë nodded sadly.

"Maybe it was the coffee," Grover said. "I was drinking coffee, and the wind came. Maybe if I drank more coffee..."

Naomi wasn't sure the coffee had anything to do with it, but she didn't want to burst Grover's bubble.

"Grover, do you really think that was Pan?" Percy asked. "I mean, I know you want it to be."

"He sent us help," Grover insisted. "I don't know how or why. But it was his presence. After this quest is done, I'm going back to New Mexico and drinking a lot of coffee. It's the best lead we've gotten in two thousand years. I was so close."

"What I want to know," Thalia said, looking at Bianca and Naomi, "is how you two destroyed those two zombies. There are a lot more out there somewhere. We need to figure out how to fight them."

Bianca shook her head, looking at Naomi for an answer. "I don't know how I did it. I just stabbed it and it went up in flames."

Naomi nodded. "That's what I did."

"Maybe there's something special about your blades?" Percy suggested.

"Bianca's knife is the same as mine," Zoë said. "Celestial bronze, yes. But mine did not affect the warriors that way."

"Maybe you just have to hit a certain spot," Naomi suggested.

Bianca looked uncomfortable with everyone looking at her.

Naomi took pity on her. "We'll figure it out, but in the meantime, we should plan our next move."

Zoë nodded. "When we get through this junkyard, we must continue west. If we can find a road, we can hitchhike to the nearest city. I think that would be Las Vegas."

Naomi grimaced, as did Percy and Grover, but before any of them could protest, Bianca beat them to it.

"No!" she said. "Not there!"

She looked really freaked out, like she'd just been dropped off the steep end of a roller coaster.

Zoë frowned. "Why?"

Bianca took a shaky breath. "I... I think we stayed there for a while. Nico and I. When we were traveling. And then, I can't remember..."

Naomi, Percy, and Grover exchanged a worried look.

"Bianca," Percy said. "That hotel you stayed at. Was it possibly called the Lotus Hotel and Casino?"

Her eyes widened. "How could you know that?"

"Oh no," Naomi said.

"Wait," Thalia said. "What is the Lotus Casino?"

"A couple of years ago," Percy explained, "Naomi, Grover, Annabeth, and I got trapped there. It's designed so you never want to leave. We stayed there for about an hour. When we came out, five days had passed. It makes time speed up."

"No," Bianca said. "No, that's not possible."

"You said somebody came and got you," Percy said.

"Yes."

"What did he look like? What did he say?"

"I... I don't remember. Please, I really don't want to talk about this."

Zoë sat forward, her eyebrows knit with concern. "You said that Washington, D.C., had changed when you went back last summer. You didn't remember the subway being there."

"Yes, but—"

"Bianca," Zoë said, "can you tell me the name of the president of the United States right now?"

"Don't be silly," Bianca said. She told them the correct name of the president.

"And who was the president before that?" Zoë asked.

Bianca thought for a while. "Roosevelt."

Zoë swallowed. "Theodore or Franklin?"

"Franklin," Bianca said. "F.D.R."

"Like FDR Drive?" Percy asked.

"Bianca," Zoë said. "F.D.R. was not the last president. That was about seventy years ago."

"That's impossible," Bianca said. "I... I'm not that old."

She stared at her hands as if to make sure they weren't wrinkled.

Thalia's eyes turned sad. She knew what it was like getting pulled out of time for a while. "It's okay, Bianca. The important thing is you and Nico are safe. You made it out."

"But how?" Percy said. "We were only in there for an hour and we barely escaped. How could you have escaped after being there for so long?"

"I told you." Bianca looked about ready to cry. "A man came and said it was time to leave. And—"

"But who? Why did he do it?"

Before she could answer, they were hit with blazing light from down the road. The headlights of a car appeared out of nowhere. They grabbed their sleeping bags and got out of the way as a deathly white limo slid to a stop in front of them.

The back door opened. Before anyone could move, there was a sword pointed at Percy's throat.

Naomi drew Hemlock as Zoë and Bianca drew their bows. As the owner of the sword got out of the car, Percy moved back very slowly.

"Not so fast now, are you, punk?"

"Ares," Percy growled.

The war god glanced at Naomi and the others. "At ease, people."

He snapped his fingers, and their weapons fell to the ground.

"This is a friendly meeting." He dug the point of his blade a little further under Percy's chin. "Of course, I'd like to take your head for a trophy, but someone wants to see you. And I never behead my enemies in front of a lady."

What a gentleman.

"What lady?" Thalia asked.

Ares looked over at her. "Well, well. I heard you were back."

He lowered his sword and pushed Percy away.

"Thalia, daughter of Zeus," Ares mused. "You're not hanging out with very good company."

"What's your business, Ares?" she said. "Who's in the car?"

Ares smiled, enjoying the attention. "Oh, I doubt she wants to meet the rest of you. Particularly not them." He jutted his chin toward Zoë and Bianca. "Why don't you all go get some tacos while you wait? Only take Percy and Naomi a few minutes."

When did I get roped into this?

"We will not leave them alone with thee, Lord Ares," Zoë said.

"Besides," Grover managed, "the taco place is closed."

Ares snapped his fingers again. The lights inside the taqueria suddenly blazed to life. The boards flew off the door and the CLOSED sign flipped to OPEN. "You were saying, goat boy?"

"Go on," Percy told them. "I'll handle this."

Ares snorted. "You heard the boy," he said. "He's big and strong. He's got things under control."

The rest of their group reluctantly headed over to the taco restaurant.

Ares gestured Naomi forward, opening the limousine door like a chauffeur. "Ladies first, kid."

Naomi grimaced, but she knew better than to outright refuse a god.

She stepped inside, steeling herself for a cage-match or something of the like, but what she found was much more intimidating.

The woman before her was wearing a red satin dress, her blonde hair curled in a cascade of ringlets. She was the most beautiful woman Naomi had ever seen—completely, unfairly gorgeous. Her complexion was flawless, her dazzling eyes framed by perfectly curled eyelashes. She had a smile that could've lit up the dark side of the moon.

Naomi blinked, suddenly feeling like a high school boy seeing his prom date descend the staircase at the end of a cheesy indie movie.

When she smiled, Naomi's heart did an Olympics-level gymnastics routine in her chest. She smiled the way Annabeth smiled—a little reserved, but almost always genuine. Then it grew, more like Percy's usual, untampered grin. Then she looked kind of like Taylor Swift, then Oscar Isaac...

Now Naomi just felt dizzy.

"Janet Rust or Myra Crimson?" the woman asked.

Naomi blinked. "I... huh?"

She laughed. "You're adorable," she commented, which made Naomi feel a little like a puppy being cooed at, but she found it hard to mind coming from someone so beautiful. "Lipstick, dear. Which shade?"

She held up two identical sticks of lipstick. They were both deep red, and Naomi knew there must have been some difference between them—she just couldn't figure out what it was.

"Oh. Um... Myra Crimson?" Naomi guessed.

The lady hummed in approval. "My daughters have taught you well."

Daughters... Now Naomi understood why she felt so flustered. "Lady Aphrodite."

"That's one of the names they call me," she responded. She uncapped the lipstick Naomi had chosen and twisted it up. "Chin up, dear."

Naomi was startled by Aphrodite's finger tilting her chin up. "Um, what—"

"Shh, don't move your mouth," Aphrodite chided. "A steady hand needs a steady canvas to produce a masterpiece."

Naomi blinked, but there wasn't much she could do but stare at Aphrodite's very green eyes as she applied the lipstick to Naomi's lips.

After a moment, Aphrodite pulled away, a satisfied grin on her own velvet-red lips. "The perfect shade. It really brings out the natural color in your face."

Naomi blinked. "Um... thank you?"

"You're so welcome," Aphrodite said. "I must say, if you take after your father in looks, I can see why Persephone fell for him." She closed the lipstick, slipping it into her gold-colored clutch as she settled back in her seat, regarding Naomi with eyes the color of storm clouds. "I have been waiting for her to step out on that dreadful husband of hers. I mean, I understand the appeal of a bad boy, but come on—a girl's got to have fun."

"...Right," Naomi said.

"But I didn't visit to talk about your mother's love life," Aphrodite declared. "I came to talk about yours."

Naomi felt a little like she'd stepped onto a silent and bloody battlefield. "My... love life? You want to talk about my love life... in the middle of a quest to save my friend?"

Aphrodite laughed, as if something Naomi had said amused her. "It's so cute when they're in denial," she said, mostly to herself. "I heard from a little birdie that Ethan Nakamura kissed you."

Naomi had a feeling this "little birdie" was Aphrodite herself—or maybe Silena, the traitor.

"He... did," Naomi said quietly.

Aphrodite hummed. "And you didn't like it."

"Is anyone supposed to like their first kiss?"

"Fair point," Aphrodite conceded. "My first kiss was with this old sea god, Nerites—gorgeous, obviously, but he kissed like a fish. I suppose I should have expected it, but still."

Naomi nodded slowly. "Uh-huh."

"That's besides the point, though." Aphrodite leaned forward, resting her chin delicately on her propped up fist. "Poor Ethan—that boy's smitten with you, but unfortunately for him, your heart's been snagged already."

Naomi frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Aphrodite laughed, the sound dazzling. "But you do, don't you, dear? Why else would you be on this quest?"

"Annabeth's in trouble," Naomi said, like the answer was obvious. "We have to rescue her."

"And Artemis?" Aphrodite asked.

Naomi blinked. "...Her, too. We have to save them both."

Aphrodite laughed again. "I'm glad to see where your priorities lie, dear."

"I didn't mean—"

"Oh, trust me, Naomi, I know exactly what you meant." Aphrodite sighed wistfully. "I've really outdone myself this time around. I don't think I've taken on a case this ambitious since... well, ever, I suppose. I'm surprised I didn't think of it before—I mean, what's better than two tragic lovers?"

"Um... none?" Naomi suggested.

Another dazzling laugh. "Oh, Naomi," she chided. "Every great love story needs some tragedy in it, don't you think?"

Before Naomi could respond to that, Aphrodite sat back again, smoothing the fabric of her satin dress. "Remember why you're on this quest, Naomi," she told her. "Artemis, her Hunters, that monster—they don't matter. What matters is that you must find and save Annabeth. The rest is... inconsequential."

Naomi wasn't one-hundred percent certain what "inconsequential" meant, but she was fairly sure saving a goddess wasn't that.

"Do you know where she is?" she asked.

Aphrodite shook her head. "I leave the details to you and Percy, darling. Speaking of—I'm afraid our meeting must come to an end. But don't worry—I'll be keeping my eye on you three. It's been ages since I've been this excited about a love story. You kids are adorable entertainment."

Right on cue, the car door opened.

Naomi's audience with Aphrodite was over.

Chapter 55: xiii. the land without rain

Chapter Text

"ARE YOU WEARING LIPSTICK?"

Naomi glared at Thalia, cheeks warm. "Shut up."

"What did she want with you two?" Bianca asked.

Naomi and Percy looked at each other, then looked away just as quickly.

"Oh, uh, not sure," Percy said, clearly lying. "She said to be careful in her husband's junkyard. She said not to pick up anything."

Zoë narrowed her eyes, looking from him to Naomi. "The goddess of love would not make a special trip to tell thee that. Be careful. Aphrodite has led many heroes astray."

"For once, I agree with Zoë," Thalia said. "You can't trust Aphrodite."

"So, how do we get out of here?" Naomi asked, anxious to change the subject.

"That way," Zoë said. "That is west."

"How can you tell?" Percy asked.

Zoë rolled her eyes. "Ursa Major is in the north," she said, "which means that must west."

She pointed west, then at the northern constellation, which was hard to make out because there were so many other stars.

"Oh, yeah," Percy said. "The bear thing."

Zoë looked offended. "Show some respect. It was a fine bear. A worthy opponent."

"You act like it was real."

"Guys," Grover broke in. "Look!"

They'd reached the crest of a junk mountain. Piles of metal objects glinted in the moonlight: broken heads of bronze horses, metal legs from human statues, smashed chariots, tons of shields and swords and other weapons, along with more modern stuff, like cars that gleamed gold and silver, refrigerators, washing machines, and computer monitors.

"Whoa," Bianca said.

"That stuff... some of it looks like real gold."

"It is," Thalia said grimly. "Like Percy said, don't touch anything. This is the junkyard of the gods."

"Junk?" Grover picked up a beautiful crown made of gold, silver, and jewels. It was broken on one side, as if it had been split by an axe. "You call this junk?"

He bit off a point and began to chew. "It's delicious!"

Thalia swatted the crown out of his hands. "I'm serious!"

"Look!" Bianca said. She raced down the hill, tripping over bronze coils and golden plates. She picked up a bow that glowed silver in moonlight. "A Hunter's bow!"

She yelped in surprise as the bow began to shrink, and became a hair clip shaped like a crescent moon. "It's just like Percy and Naomi's swords!"

Zoë's face was grim. "Leave it, Bianca."

"But—"

"It is here for a reason. Anything thrown away in this junkyard must stay in this yard. It is defective. Or cursed."

Bianca reluctantly set the hair clip down.

"I don't like this place," Thalia said. She gripped the shaft of her spear.

"You think we're going to get attacked by killer refrigerators?" Percy asked.

She gave him a hard look. "Zoë is right, Percy. Things get thrown away here for a reason. Now come on, let's get across the yard."

"That's the second time you've agreed with Zoë," Percy muttered, but Thalia ignored him.

They started picking their way through the hills and valleys of junk. The stuff seemed to go on forever, and if it hadn't been for Ursa Major, they would've got lost. All the hills looked the same.

Naomi trailed behind the group, an unexplainable dread forming in her stomach, like an apple growing on the branch of a tree. She had a bad feeling something was going to happen—something awful.

After a while, they saw the edge of the junkyard about half a mild ahead of them, the lights of a highway stretching through the desert. But between them and the road...

"What is that?" Bianca gasped.

Ahead of them was a hill much bigger and longer than the others. It was like a metal mesa, the length of a football field and as tall as goalposts. At one end of the mesa was a row of ten thick metal columns, wedged tightly together.

Bianca frowned. "They look like—"

"Toes," Grover said.

Bianca nodded. "Really, really large toes."

Zoë and Thalia exchanged nervous looks.

"Let's go around," Thalia said. "Far around."

"But the road is right over there," Percy protested. "Quicker to climb over."

Ping.

Thalia hefted her spear and Zoë drew her bow, but then Naomi realized it was only Grover. He had thrown a piece of scrap metal at the toes and hit one, making a deep echo, as if the column were hollow.

"Why did you do that?" Zoë demanded.

Grover cringed. "I don't know. I, uh, don't like fake feet?"

"Come on." Thalia looked pointedly at Percy. "Around."

Percy didn't argue this time.

After several minutes of walking, they finally stepped onto the highway, an abandoned but well-lit stretch of black tarmac.

"We made it out," Zoë said. "Thank the gods."

But apparently the gods didn't want to be thanked. At that moment, Naomi heard a sound like a thousand trash compactors crushing metal.

They turned. Behind them, the scrap mountain was boiling, rising up. The ten toes tilted over, and Naomi realized why they looked like toes—it was because they were toes. The thing that rose up from the metal was a bronze giant in full Greek battle armor. He was impossibly tall—a skyscraper with limbs. He gleamed wickedly in the moonlight, looking down at them with a deformed face. His joints creaked with rust, and across his armored chest, written in thick dust by some giant finger, were the words WASH ME.

"Talos!" Zoë gasped.

"Who's Talos?" Naomi asked, staring up at the giant in horror.

"One of Hephaestus's creations," Thalia said. "But that can't be the original. It's too small. A prototype, maybe. A defective model."

The metal giant didn't seem to like the word defective.

He moved one hand to his sword belt and drew his weapon. The sound of it coming out of its sheath was horrible, metal screeching against metal. The blade was a hundred feet long, easy. It looked rusty and dull, but Naomi knew it would still do some serious damage.

"Someone took something," Zoë said. "Who took something?"

She stared accusingly at Percy.

He shook his head. "I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a thief."

The giant defective Talos took one step toward them, closing half the distance and making the ground shake.

"Run!" Grover yelped.

Great advice, except that it was hopeless. At a leisurely stroll, this thing could outdistance them easily.

They split up, the way they'd done with the Nemean Lion. Thalia drew her shield and held it up as she ran down the highway. The giant swung his sword and took out a row of power lines, which exploded in sparks and scattered across Thalia's path.

Zoë's arrows whistled toward the creature's face but it shattered harmlessly against the metal. Grover brayed like a baby goat and went climbing up a mountain of metal.

Bianca, Percy, and Naomi ended up together, hiding behind a broken chariot.

"You took something," Percy said to Bianca. "That bow."

"No!" she said, but her voice was quivering.

"Give it back!" Percy said. "Throw it down!"

"I... I didn't take the bow! Besides, it's too late."

"What did you take?"

Before she could answer, Naomi heard a massive creaking noise, and a shadow blotted out the sky.

"Move!" Percy tore down the hill, Naomi and Bianca right behind him, as the giant's foot smashed a crater in the ground where they'd been hiding.

"Hey, Talos!" Grover yelled, but the monster raised his sword, looking down at Bianca, Percy, and Naomi.

Grover played a quick melody on his pipes. Over at the highway, the downed power lines began to dance. One of the poles with power lines still attached flew toward Talos's back leg and wrapped around his calf. The lines sparked and sent a jolt of electricity up the giant's backside.

Talos whirled around, creaking and sparking. Grover had bought them a few seconds.

"Come on!" Percy shouted.

But Bianca didn't move. From her pocket, she brought out a small metal figurine, a statue of a god. "It... it was for Nico. It was the only statue he didn't have."

"How can you think of Mythomagic at a time like this?" Percy said.

There were tears in her eyes.

"Just throw it down," Naomi said. "Maybe the giant will leave us alone."

Bianca dropped it reluctantly, but nothing happened.

The giant kept coming after Grover. It stabbed its sword into a junk hill, missing Grover by a meter or so, but scrap metal made an avalanche over him, and then Naomi couldn't see him anymore.

"No!" Thalia yelled. She pointed her spear, and a blue arc of lightning shot out, hitting the monster in his rusty knee, which buckled. The giant collapsed, but immediately started to rise again. It was hard to tell if it could feel anything. There weren't any emotions in its half-melted face, but Naomi got the sense that it was about as ticked off as a twenty-story-tall metal warrior could be.

He raised his foot to stomp.

"Crazy-idea time," Percy announced.

Bianca looked at him nervously. "Anything."

Percy told them about the maintenance hatch at the bottom of Talos's foot. "There may be a way to control the thing. Switches or something. I'm going to get inside."

"Are you crazy?" Naomi demanded, even though it was kind of a rhetorical question. "You'll have to stand under its foot! You'll get squished like a bug!"

"Distract it," Percy said. "I'll just have to time it right."

Bianca's jaw tightened. "No. I'll go."

"That's an even worse idea," Naomi said. "You're too new at this, you'll get hurt."

"It's my fault the monster came after us," Bianca said. "It's my responsibility. Here." She picked up the little god statue and pressed it into Naomi's hand. "If anything happens, give that to Nico. Tell him... tell him I'm sorry."

"Bianca, no!" Percy shouted.

"Don't!" Naomi cried.

But Bianca didn't listen. She charged at the monster's left foot.

Thalia had its attention for the moment. She'd learned that the giant was big but slow. If you could stay close to it and not get smashed, you could run around it and stay alive. At least, it was working so far.

Bianca got right next to the giant's foot, trying to balance herself on the metal scraps that swayed and shifted with his weight.

Zoë yelled, "What are you doing?"

"Get it to raise its foot!" Bianca said.

Zoë shot an arrow toward the monster's face and it flew straight into one nostril. The giant straightened and shook its head.

"Hey, Junk Boy!" Percy yelled. "Down here!"

He ran up to its big toe and stabbed it with Riptide. The magic blade cut a gash in the bronze.

Unfortunately, his plan worked. Talos looked down at him and raised his foot to step on him. Naomi watched in horror as Percy ran, the foot coming down right behind him and sending out a current of air that knocked Percy into an Olympus-Air refrigerator.

Naomi sprinted toward him as Talos moved to finish him off. Grover somehow dug himself out of the junk pile and played his pipes frantically. Another power line pole whacked against Talos's thigh. The monster turned.

Grover turned to run, but he must've been too exhausted from the effort of so much magic. He took two steps and fell, and it didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon.

Naomi turned on her heel, running toward him, but she knew she wouldn't make it.

The monster raised his sword to smash Grover.

Then he froze.

Talos cocked his head to one side, like he was hearing strange new music. He started moving his arms and legs in weird ways, doing the Funky Chicken. Then he made a fist and punched himself in the face.

"Go, Bianca!" Percy yelled in amazement.

Zoë looked horrified. "She is inside?"

The monster staggered around—they weren't out of the woods yet. Thalia and Percy grabbed Grover and ran with him toward the highway, Naomi bringing up the rear as she kept a close eye on the giant. Zoë was already ahead of them. She yelled, "How will Bianca get out?"

The giant hit itself in the head again and dropped his sword. A shudder ran through his whole body and he staggered toward the power lines.

"Look out!" Naomi screamed, but it was too late.

The giant's ankle snared the lines, and blue flickers of electricity shot up his body. He careened back into the junkyard, and his right hand fell off, landing in the scrap metal with a horrible CLANG!

His left arm came loose, too. He was falling apart at the joins.

Talos began to run.

"Wait!" Zoë yelled. They ran after him, but there was no way they could keep up. Pieces of the robot kept falling off, getting in their way.

The giant crumbled from the top down: his head, pieces of his chest, and finally his torso and legs collapsed.

Naomi's stomach dropped so heavily that she stumbled.

No.

"Bianca!" Percy called, the others echoing the shout.

Everyone but Naomi —because she knew. She wasn't sure how, but she knew—

"She's gone."

Her voice was barely audible, but Percy heard it. He turned, looking at her, his expression confused. "What?"

Everyone else's eyes settled on her, but she was numb to the anxiety she normally would have felt. As loudly as she could manage—barely above a whisper—she repeated, "She's gone."

Thalia shook her head. "No, she's—we'll find her. The inside's probably insulated, she's—"

"How do you know, Naomi?" Zoë asked, her expression almost blank, save for the steadily growing shine in her dark eyes.

"I felt it," Naomi whispered. "I—I know she's dead."

Zoë closed her eyes. Her shoulders dropped, and she sat down.

And she wept.

Percy shook his head. "No, that's—there's no way. We'll—we'll keep searching. We'll find her."

"No, we won't," Grover said miserably. "Naomi's right. It happened just as it was supposed to."

"What are you talking about?" Percy demanded.

"The prophecy," Grover croaked. "One shall be lost in the land without rain."

Naomi sat down silently. She felt numb—like some part of her had been taken out, leaving a strange emptiness she wasn't sure could ever be filled. She hadn't even known Bianca that well, or that long. But there was a new void in the pit of her stomach, and she doubted she'd ever fully adjust to its presence.

For the first time in her life, she closed her eyes and sent a prayer to the one god who probably didn't want to hear anything from her, and hoped beyond hope that he'd listen, just this once.

Give her peace, Lord Hades, she prayed, the ache in her throat almost too much to handle. Please. Guide her to Elysium.

Chapter 56: xiv. naomi dual-wields like a badass

Chapter Text

AT THE EDGE OF THE DUMP, they found an old tow truck.

Thalia drove. She didn't seem as stunned as the rest of them.

"The skeletons are still out there," she reminded them. "We need to keep moving."

She navigated them through the desert, under clear blue skies, the sand so bright it hurt to look at. It had a three-seater interior, so while Percy and Grover sat in the back, Zoë and Naomi sat next to Thalia.

Naomi sat with her knees hugged to her chest, leaning her head against the window, cold from the A/C.

She stared at the little figurine that had cost Bianca her life. She wasn't sure what god it was supposed to be, but she was sure Nico would know.

She closed her eyes, her throat tightening with despair. How was she going to tell him? How do you break it to a kid that his big sister's never coming back?

Zoë and Thalia were talking, but Naomi barely heard them. She was stuck in the eye of a hurricane, her emotions raging around her but her insides numb. She should have said something—she should have known something would go wrong, she should have trusted that bad feeling from the beginning. Maybe then Bianca would still be alive.

But would she? It happened just like the prophecy said: One shall be lost in the land without rain.

One quest member was gone—one line fulfilled. Naomi couldn't stop thinking about the other two that predicted more death.

One shall greet death as a dear old friend. One shall perish by a parent's hand.

Which one of them would be next?

The tow truck ran out of fuel at the edge of a river canyon. It was just as well, because the road dead-ended.

Thalia got out and slammed the door. Immediately, one of the tires blew. "Great. What now?"

"There's a path," Grover said. "We could get to the river."

Naomi tried to see what he was talking about, and finally noticed a tiny ledge winding down the cliff face.

"That's a goat path," Percy said.

"So?" he asked.

"The rest of us aren't goats."

"We can make it," Grover said. "I think."

Percy thought about it, looking at Thalia.

"No," he said. "I, uh, think we should go further upstream."

Grover said, "But—"

"Come on," Percy said. "A walk won't hurt us."

They followed the river for about half a mile before coming to an easier slope that led down to the water. On the shore was a canoe rental operation that was closed for the season, but Percy left a stack of golden drachmas on the counter and an I.O.U. note.

"We need to go upstream," Zoë said, her voice rough. "The rapids are too swift."

"Leave that to me," Percy said.

They put the canoes in the water.

Thalia, Grover, and Naomi got into one, Percy and Zoë in the other.

As it turned out, Percy didn't need to control the rapids. A couple of naiads helped them out, pushing them up the river. They started so fast Grover fell into the canoe with his hooves sticking up in the air.

"You okay, Murphy?" Thalia asked as they got going. "You haven't said anything the whole way here."

Naomi fidgeted with the Mythomagic figurine in her pocket, but couldn't think of anything to say.

"What happened back there wasn't your fault," Thalia said, her voice softer than Naomi was used to. "It wasn't anyone's fault."

Naomi swallowed. "I sensed something was going to happen," she whispered. "I should have said something. We could have—"

"You can't do that to yourself," Thalia said.

Naomi stared ahead. "She was just a kid."

Thalia was quiet for a moment. "I know."

"It's not fair."

"It's not," Thalia agreed. "But it's what happened. We can't change it—we can only move forward, finish this quest so her sacrifice was worth it."

Naomi looked at her, at the somber expression on her face. If anyone knew about sacrifice, it was Thalia. She'd given her life to help Grover, Annabeth, and Luke reach the safety of Camp Half-Blood. Sure, Zeus had turned her into a tree before she could die, but Thalia hadn't known that when she took her stand.

Naomi sighed, nodding slowly.

She wished heroes and sacrifice weren't so intertwined.

"Hoover Dam," Thalia said. "It's huge."

They stood on the river's edge, looking up at a curve of concrete that loomed between the cliffs. People were walking along the top of the dam. They were so tiny they looked like fleas.

The naiads left with a lot of grumbling, and the canoes floated back downstream, swirling in the wake from the dam's discharge vents.

"Seven hundred feet tall," Percy said.

"Built in the 1930s," Naomi said.

"Five million cubic acres of water," Thalia added.

Grover sighed. "Largest construction project in the United States."

Zoë stared at them. "How do you know all that?"

"Annabeth," Percy said. "She liked architecture."

"She was nuts about monuments," Thalia said.

"Spouted facts all the time." Grover sniffled. "So annoying."

"I wish she was here," Naomi said.

The others nodded. Zoë was still looking at them strangely, but Naomi didn't care. It seemed like cruel fate that they'd come to the Hoover Dam, one of Annabeth's personal favorites, and she wasn't here to see it.

"We should go up there," Percy said. "For her sake. Just to say we've been."

"You are mad," Zoë decided. "But that's where the road is." She pointed to a huge parking garage next to the top of the dam. "And so, sightseeing it is."

They had to walk for almost an hour before they found a path that led up to the road. It came up on the east side of the river. Then they straggled back toward the dam. It was cold and windy on tip. On one side, a big lake spread out, ringed by barren desert mountains. On the other side, the dam dropped away like the world's most dangerous skateboard ramp, down to the river more than two hundred meters below, and water that churned from the dam's vents.

Thalia walked in the middle of the road, far away from the edges Grover kept sniffing the wind and looking nervous.

"There's a snack bar in the visitor center," Thalia said.

"You've been here before?" Percy asked.

"Once. To see the guardians." She pointed to the far end of the dam. Carved into the side of the cliff was a little plaza with two big bronze statues. They looked kind of like Oscar statues with wings.

"They were dedicated to Zeus when the dam was built," Thalia. "A gift from Athena."

Tourists were clustered all around them. They seemed to be looking at the statues' feet.

"What are they doing?" Percy asked.

"Rubbing the toes," Thalia said. "They think it's good luck."

"Why?" Naomi asked.

Thalia shook her head. "Mortals get crazy ideas. They don't know the statues are sacred to Zeus, but they know there's something special about them."

"When you were here last, did they talk to you or anything?" Percy asked.

Thalia's expression darkened. Naomi could tell that she'd come here before, hoping for exactly that—some kind of sign from her dad. Some connection. "No. They don't do anything. They're just big metal statues."

"Let us find the dam snack bar," Zoë suggested. "We should eat while we can."

Grover cracked a smile. "The dam snack bar?"

Zoë blinked. "Yes. What is funny?"

"Nothing," Grover said, trying to keep a straight face. "I could use some dam French fries."

Even Thalia smiled at that. "And I need a dam restroom."

Maybe it was the fact that they were so tired and strung out emotionally, but Naomi started cracking up, and Percy, Thalia, and Grover joined in, while Zoë just looked at them. "I do not understand."

"I want to use the dam water fountain," Grover said.

"And..." Thalia tried to catch her breath. "I want to buy a dam t-shirt."

Naomi cracked up, half-hysterical as she clutched her stomach. She barely noticed when Percy and Grover got quiet.

"Did I just hear a cow?" Grover asked.

"A dam cow?" Thalia laughed.

"No," Grover said. "I'm serious."

Naomi sobered up, trying to listen, but she didn't hear any cows.

"I hear nothing," Zoë said.

Thalia looked at Percy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he said. "You guys go ahead. I'll be right in."

"What's wrong?" Naomi asked.

"Nothing," Percy said. "I... I just need a minute. To think."

They hesitated, but Percy looked pretty upset. Reluctantly, they headed into the visitor center without him.

"Okay, I actually do need to use the dam restroom," Naomi said. "Anyone know where it is?"

Thalia nodded toward a hallway off to the side of the snack bar. "Down there. What do you want to eat?"

Naomi gave her her order and headed down the hall to the restroom.

It was empty, which was a pleasant surprise.

Naomi stood at the sink, staring at her haggard expression. Her eyes were red, the darkness under her eyes more pronounced than ever. She took her hair out of the messy braids Silena had done before Naomi left camp, braiding it out of her face. Definitely neater than before, but not nearly as pristine as Silena's braids.

Her lips were still stained dark pink with Aphrodite's lipstick, and it didn't seem to be coming off anytime soon, no matter how hard she scrubbed. She sighed, filling her cupped palms with water and splashing her face.

It was Wednesday—two days before the winter solstice. If they didn't save Artemis and Annabeth in time...

She didn't want to consider what would happen.

Naomi dried off her face and exited the bathroom, heading back toward the dam snack bar.

"Just in time!" Thalia said, handing Naomi a tray as she reached the table. "C'mon, I'm starving."

They sat down with their food just as Percy appeared at their table, out of breath and looking panicked.

"We need to leave," he gasped. "Now!"

"But we just got our burritos!" Thalia said.

Zoë stood up, muttering an Ancient Greek curse. "He's right! Look."

The café windows wrapped all the way around the observation floor, which gave them a beautiful panoramic view of the skeletal army that had come to kill them.

Naomi counted two on the east side of the dam road, blocking the way to Arizona. Three more were on the west side, guarding Nevada. All of them were armed with batons and pistols once again.

But their immediate problem was a lot closer. Three more skeleton warriors appeared on the stairs. They saw Percy from across the cafeteria and clattered their teeth.

"Elevator!" Grover said. They bolted in that direction, but the doors opened with pleasant ding, and two more warriors stepped out. Every warrior was accounted for, minus the two Bianca and Naomi had blasted to flames in New Mexico. They were completely surrounded.

Then Grover had a brilliant, totally Grover-like idea.

"Burrito fight!" he yelled, and flung his Guacamole Grande at the nearest skeleton.

Grover's lunch hit the skeleton and knocked his skull clean off his shoulders. Naomi wasn't sure what the other kids in the café saw, but they went crazy and started throwing their burritos and baskets of chips and sodas at each other, shrieking and screaming.

The skeletons tried to aim their guns, but it was hopeless. Bodies and food and drinks were flying everywhere.

In the chaos, Thalia and Percy tackled the other two skeletons on the stairs and sent them flying into the condiment table. Then they all raced downstairs, Guacamole Grandes whizzing past their heads.

"What now?" Grover asked as they burst outside.

The warriors on the road were closing in from either direction. The group ran across the street to the plaza with the winged bronze statues, but that just put their backs to the mountain.

The skeletons moved forward, forming a crescent around them. Their brethren from the café were running up to join them. One was still putting its skull back on its shoulders. Another was covered in ketchup and mustard. Two more had burritos lodged in their ribcages. They didn't look happy about it. They drew batons and advanced.

"Five against ten," Zoë muttered. "And only Naomi can kill them."

"Zoë , give me your hunting knife," Naomi said.

Zoë frowned. "Why?"

"Just give it to me," she insisted. "You guys keep them distracted, I'll take them out one by one."

"They have guns," Thalia reminded her.

"I'm aware!" Naomi snapped. "Do you have a better idea?"

"I'm thinking!"

"Then I have to buy you time," Naomi said. "Zoë?"

Zoë tossed her the knife, and Naomi caught it in her left hand, summoning Hemlock in her other.

Here goes nothing.

Naomi stepped toward the skeletons. Their advance faltered just slightly, but they kept coming. They might have been wary of her unexplainable ability to actually kill them, but they knew as well as she did that ten against one were terrible odds.

She charged the two at the left end of the line, ducking under their arms as she jammed the knife into one's sternum and sliced her sword through the other. Both burst into flames as the blades made impact.

Three more charged her, breaking away from the line. She dodged a baton aimed at her head and sliced through the offender's leg, its bones falling out of its pelvis and turning to ash that dispersed with the wind. It stumbled into the warrior next to it, disorientating them, but the third was still raring to go.

Naomi knocked the gun out of its hand with Hemlock, trying to come up in the same moment with the knife to stab its chest. The skeleton blocked the strike with its baton, grabbing her hand and trying to grapple the knife out of her hand. She tried to get her hand back, but the skeleton was deceptively strong (seeing as it had absolutely no muscles).

"Naomi, behind you!"

Naomi managed to slice Hemlock behind her, the heat against her back telling her she'd taken out another skeleton, and twisted Hemlock in her hand to jam it into the other skeleton's pelvis.

It burst into flames, burning her hand in the process.

She winced, nearly dropping the knife. "Ow!"

She heard a shot, and moved just in time for a bullet aimed at her heart to merely graze her arm.

Her heart pumped with terror and adrenaline. One second too slow and she would've been gone—just like Bianca.

Before Naomi could figure out her next move, a shadow fell over her. She looked back, just in time to see a flash of bronze sweep three of the baton-wielding skeletons aside.

Percy grabbed Naomi, raising his lion coat as the skeletons opened fire, but there was no need. The now-animate bronze angels stepped in front of them and folded their wings like shields. Bullets pinged off them like rain off a corrugated roof. Both angels slashed outward, and the skeletons went flying across the road.

"Man, it feels good to stand up!" the first angel said. His voice sounded tinny and rusty, like he hadn't had a drink since he was built.

"Will ya look at my toes?" the other said. "Holy Zeus, what were those tourists thinking?"

As stunned as Naomi was by the angels, she was more concerned with the skeletons. A few of them were getting up again, reassembling, bony hands groping for their weapons.

"Trouble!" Percy said.

"Get us out of here!" Thalia yelled.

Both angels looked down at her. "Zeus's kid?"

"Yes!"

"Could I get a please, Miss Zeus's Kid?" one of the angels asked.

"Please!"

The angels looked at each other and shrugged.

"Could use a stretch," one decided.

The next thing Naomi knew, one of them grabbed her, Percy, and Thalia, the other grabbed Zoë and Grover, and they flew straight up, over the dam and the river, the skeleton warriors shrinking to tiny specks below them and the sound of gunfire echoing off the sides of the mountains.

Chapter 57: xv. percy harrasses a homeless guy

Chapter Text

"TELL ME WHEN IT'S OVER," Thalia said. Her eyes were shut tight. The statue was holding onto them so they couldn't fall, but Thalia still clutched his arm like it was the most important thing in the world.

"Everything's fine," Percy promised.

"Are... are we very high?"

Naomi looked down. Below them, a range of snowy mountains zipped by.

Percy stretched out his foot and kicked snow off one of the peaks.

"Nah," he said. "Not that high."

"We are in the Sierras!" Zoë yelled. She and Grover were hanging from the arms of the other statue. "I have hunted here before. At this speed, we should be in San Francisco in a few hours."

"Hey, hey, Frisco!" the angel holding Naomi, Percy, and Thalia said. "Yo, Chuck! We could visit those guys at the Mechanics Monument again! They know how to party!"

"Oh, man," the other angel said. "I am so there!"

"You guys have visited San Francisco?" Percy asked.

"We automatons gotta have some fun once in a while, right?" their statue said. "Those mechanics took us over to the de Young Museum and introduced us to these marble lady statues, see. And—"

"Hank!" the other statue—Chuck—cut in. "They're kids, man."

"Oh, right." If bronze statues could blush, Naomi swore Hank did. "Back to flying."

The angels must have been excited, speeding up as they left the mountains behind. Soon they were zipping along over farmland and towns and highways.

Grover played his pipes to pass the time. Zoë got bored and started and started shooting arrows at random billboards as they flew by. Every time she saw a Target department store—there were dozens of them—she would peg the store's sign with a few bullseyes at a hundred miles an hour.

Naomi chewed on a piece of ambrosia, watching the bright red burn on her wrist fade slowly back into her normal skin tone.

"When did you learn how to fight like that?" Percy asked her.

"Clarisse taught me," Naomi answered, rubbing her shirt sleeve over the leftover blood from her bullet graze. That wound was completely healed thanks to the ambrosia and general lack of seriousness.

"Since when have you trained with Clarisse?" Percy sounded shocked.

Naomi shrugged. "We're both year-rounders, both had nothing better to do. She offered to teach me a few things—including dual-wielding. I wasn't sure it'd come in handy, but I'm glad it did."

"It was badass," Percy complimented.

Naomi cracked a smile. "It was, wasn't it?"

Thalia's eyes had been closed the entire way, and she was muttering to herself a lot, like she was praying.

"You did good back there," Percy called out to her. "Zeus listened."

It was hard to tell what she was thinking with her eyes closed.

"Maybe," she said. "How did you get away from the skeletons in the generator room, anyway? You said they cornered you?"

Percy told her and Naomi about the mortal girl he'd encountered, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, who seemed to be able to see right through the Mist.

Thalia didn't look surprised. "Some mortals are like that," she said. "Nobody knows why."

"Well, the girl was annoying," Percy said. "But I'm glad I didn't vaporize her. That would've been bad."

Thalia nodded. "Must be nice to be a regular mortal."

She said it like she'd given it a lot of thought.

"Where do you guys want to land?" Hank asked, waking Naomi and her companions from a night of fitful sleep.

Naomi looked down.

"Whoa," Percy breathed.

She'd seen San Francisco in pictures before, but never in real life. It was gorgeous, surrounded by green hills and dense fog. There was a huge bay and ships, islands and sailboats, and the Golden Gate bridge sticking up out of the clouds of fog.

"There," Zoë suggested. "By the Embarcadero Building."

"Good thinking," Chuck said. "Me and Hank can blend in with the pigeons."

Everyone just looked at him.

"Kidding," he said. "Sheesh, can't statues have a sense of humor?"

As it turned out, there wasn't much need to blend in. It was early morning and not many people were around. They freaked out a homeless guy on the ferry dock when they landed. He screamed when he saw Hank and Chuck and ran off, yelling something about metal angels from Mars.

Naomi and her friends said goodbye to the angels, who flew off to party with their statue friends.

They'd made it to the West Coast. Artemis was here somewhere. Annabeth, too, Naomi hoped. But they had no idea how to find them, and tomorrow was the winter solstice. Now they were stuck on the ferry dock with very little money, no friends, and no luck.

After a brief discussion, they agreed they needed to find out just what the mystery 'bane of Olympus' monster was that the prophecy had talked about.

"But how?" Percy asked.

"Nereus," Grover said.

Percy looked at him. "What?"

"Isn't that what Apollo told you to do? Find Nereus?"

Percy nodded. "The old man of the sea," he remembered. "I'm supposed to find him and force him to tell us what he knows. But how do I find him?"

Zoë made a face. "Old Nereus, eh?"

"You know him?" Thalia asked.

"My mother was a sea goddess. Yes, I know him. Unfortunately, he is never very hard to find. Just follow the smell."

"What do you mean?" Percy asked.

"Come," she said without enthusiasm. "I will show thee."

Naomi wasn't sure Zoë's plan for helping Percy meet Nereus wasn't just a petty moment of revenge. She'd outfitted him in a ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big, bright red trainers, and a floppy rainbow hat.

"Oh, yeah," Grover said, trying not to burst out laughing, "you look completely inconspicuous now."

Naomi tried to cover her laugh with her hand, but judging by the glare Percy shot at her, she didn't do a very good job.

Zoë nodded with satisfaction. "A typical male vagrant."

"Thanks a lot," Percy grumbled. "Why am I doing this again?"

"I told thee. To blend in."

She led the way down to the waterfront. After a long time spent searching the docks, Zoë finally stopped in her tracks. She pointed down a pier where a bunch of homeless guys were huddled together in blankets, waiting for the soup kitchen to open for lunch.

"He will be down there somewhere," Zoë said. "He never travels very far from the water. He likes to sun himself during the day."

"How do I know which one is him?" Percy asked.

"Sneak up," she said. "Act homeless. You will know him. He will smell... different."

"Great." Percy didn't ask for particulars. "And once I find him?"

"Grab him," she said. "And hold on. He will try anything to get rid of thee. Whatever he does, do not let go. Force him to tell thee about the monster."

"We've got your back," Thalia said. She picked something off the back of his shirt—a big clump of fuzz that came from who-knows-where. "Eww. On second thought... I don't want your back. But we'll be rooting for you."

Naomi and Grover gave him twin thumbs-ups.

Percy grumbled about how nice it was to have super-powerful friends. Then he headed toward the dock.

As he became more of a speck than a person, Naomi looked at her friends. "You don't think he's going to get, like... arrested, do you? For tackling a homeless guy?"

Thalia tilted her head thoughtfully. "Uh... let's go with hopefully not?"

Naomi sighed. "Wouldn't be his first run-in with the cops."

Grover snickered, nudging Naomi's shoulder with his own. "Think there'd be another manhunt?"

Thalia raised an eyebrow. "How come I haven't heard this story yet?"

Grover grinned. "Okay, so here's what happened..."

By the time Naomi and Grover finished the story, Percy had managed to subdue the sea god Nereus.

"You got him!" Zoë said.

"You don't have to sound so amazed," Percy said.

The old man god moaned. "Oh, wonderful. An audience for my humiliation! The normal deal, I suppose? You'll let me go if I answer your question?"

"I've got more than one question," Percy said.

"Only one question per capture! That's the rule."

Percy looked at his friends.

This wasn't good. They needed to find Artemis, and figure out what the bane of Olympus was, and find out if Annabeth was still alive, and how to rescue her. There was no single question that encompassed all of those inquiries.

Percy sighed, seeming to realize this. "All right, Nereus. Tell me where to find this terrible monster that could bring an end to the gods. The one Artemis was hunting."

The Old Man of the Sea smiled, showing off mossy green teeth.

"Oh, that's too easy," he said evilly. "He's right there."

Nereus pointed to the water at Percy's feet.

"Where?" Percy said.

"The deal is complete!" Nereus gloated. With a pop, he turned into a goldfish and did a backflip into the sea.

"You tricked me!" Percy yelled.

"Wait." Thalia's eyes widened. "What is that?"

"MOOOOOOOO!"

Naomi looked down at the water, her eyes widening as well at the sight of a cow... serpent... creature swimming next to the dock. She nudged Percy's shoe and looked up at him with sad brown eyes, like a bonafide sea-puppy.

"Ah, Bessie," Percy said. "Not now."

"Mooo!"

Grover gasped. "He says his name isn't Bessie."

"You can understand her... er, him?"

Grover nodded. "It's a very old form of animal speech. But he says his name is the Ophiotaurus."

"The Ophi-what?"

"It means serpent bull in Greek," Thalia said. "But what's it doing here?"

"Mooooo!"

"He says Percy is his protector," Grover announced. "And he's running from the bad people. He says they are close."

"Wait," Zoë said, looking at Percy. "You know this cow?"

Percy told them the story of how he'd freed the cow serpent from some fishing net back in the Long Island Sound.

Thalia shook her head in disbelief. "And you just forgot to mention this before?"

"Well... yeah," Percy said.

"I am a fool," Zoë said suddenly. "I know this story!"

"What story?" Naomi asked.

"From the War of the Titans," Zoë said. "My... my father told me this tale, thousands of years ago. This is the beast we are looking for."

"Bessie?" Percy looked down at the creature. "But... he's too cute. He couldn't destroy the world."

"That is how we were wrong," Zoë said. "We've been anticipating a huge dangerous monster, but the Ophiotaurus does not bring down the gods that way. He must be sacrificed."

"MMMM," the Ophiotaurus mowed.

"I don't think he likes the S-word," Grover said.

Percy patted the creature on the head, but the Ophiotaurus was trembling.

Naomi sat down on the dock, reaching out to pass a hand over the poor creature's head. He hesitated for a moment, then nuzzled her hand like a cat.

"How could anyone hurt him?" she asked softly. "He's innocent."

Zoë nodded. "But there is power in killing innocence. Terrible power. The Fates ordained a prophecy eons ago, when this creature was born. They said that whoever killed the Ophiotaurus and sacrificed its entrails to fire would have the power to destroy the gods."

"MMMMMM!"

"Um," Grover said. "Maybe we could avoid talking about entrails, too."

Thalia sat down next to Naomi, stretching out her hand. The Ophiotaurus went right to her. Thalia placed her hand on his head. The creature shivered.

Thalia's expression bothered Naomi. She looked almost... hungry.

"We have to protect him," Percy said. "If Luke gets hold of him—"

"Luke wouldn't hesitate," Thalia muttered. "The power to overthrow Olympus. That's... that's huge."

"Yes, it is, my dear," said a man's voice in a heavy French accent. "And it is a power you shall unleash."

The Ophiotaurus made a whimpering sound and submerged.

Naomi looked up. They'd been so busy talking, they'd allowed themselves to be ambushed.

Standing behind them, his two-colored eyes gleaming wickedly, was Dr. Thorn, the manticore himself.

"This is just pairrr-fect," he gloated.

He was wearing a ratty black trench coat over his Westover Hall uniform, which was torn and stained. His military haircut had grown out spiky and greasy. He hadn't shaved recently, so his face was covered in silver stubble.

"Long ago, the gods banished me to Persia," the manticore said. "I was forced to scrounge for food on the edges of the world, hiding in forests, devouring insignificant human farmers for my meals. I never got to fight any great heroes. I was not feared and admired in the old stories! But now that will change. The Titans shall honor me, and I shall feast on the flesh of half-bloods!"

On either side of him stood two armed security guys—mortal mercenaries, like Percy and Zoë had mentioned. Two more stood on the next boat dock over, just in case the questers tried to escape that way. There were tourists all around—walking down the waterfront, shopping at the pier above them—but Naomi knew that wouldn't stop the manticore from acting.

"Where... where are the skeletons?" Naomi asked the manticore.

He sneered. "I do not need those foolish undead! The General thinks I am worthless? He will change his mind when I defeat you lot myself!"

"We beat you once before," Percy said.

"Ha! You could barely fight me with a goddess on your side. And, alas... that goddess is preoccupied at the moment. There will be no help for you now."

Zoë notched an arrow and aimed it straight at the manticore's head. The guards on either side of them raised their guns.

"Wait!" Naomi said. "Zoë, don't!"

The manticore smiled. "The girl is right, Zoë Nightshade. Put away your bow. It would be a shame to kill you before you witnessed Thalia's great victory."

"What are you talking about?" Thalia growled. She had her shield and spear ready.

"Surely it is clear," the manticore said. "This is your moment. This is why Lord Kronos brought you back to life. You will sacrifice the Ophiotaurus. You will bring its entrails to the sacred fire on the mountain. You will gain unlimited power. And for your seventeenth birthday, you will overthrow Olympus."

No one spoke. It made terrible sense. Thalia was only two days away from turning seventeen. She was a child of the Big Three. And here was a choice, a terrible choice that could mean the end of the gods. It was just like the prophecy said.

Naomi waited for Thalia to tell the manticore off, but she hesitated. She looked completely stunned.

"You know it is the right choice," the manticore told her. "Your friend Luke recognized it. You shall be reunited with him. You shall rule this world together under the auspices of the Titans. Your father abandoned you, Thalia. He cares nothing for you. And now you shall gain power over him. Crush the Olympians underfoot, as they deserve. Call the beast! It will come to you. Use your spear."

"Thalia," Percy said, "snap out of it!"

She looked at him the same way she had the morning she woke up on Half-Blood Hill, dazed and uncertain. It was almost like she didn't know how. "I... I don't—"

"Your father helped you," Percy said. "He sent the metal angels. He turned you into a tree to preserve you."

Her hand tightened on the shaft of her spear.

Grover raised his pipes to his mouth and played a quick riff.

The manticore yelled, "Stop him!"

The guards had been targeting Zoë, and before they could figure out that the kid with the pipes was the bigger problem, the wooden planks at their feet sprouted new branches and tangled their legs. Zoë let loose two quick arrows that exploded at their feet in clouds of sulfurous yellow smoke.

The guards started coughing. The manticore shot spines in their direction but they ricocheted off Percy's lion's coat.

"Grover," Percy said, "tell Bessie to dive deep and stay down!"

"Moooooo!" Grover translated.

"The cow..." Thalia muttered, still in a daze.

"Come on!" Percy pulled her along as they ran up the stairs to the shopping center on the pier. They dashed around the corner of the nearest store. Naomi heard the manticore shouting at his minions, "Get them!" Tourists screamed as the guards shot blindly into the air.

Naomi and the others scrambled to the end of the pier. They hid behind a little kiosk filled with souvenir crystals—wind chimes and dreamcatchers and the like, glittering in the sunlight. There was a water fountain next to them. Down below, a bunch of sea lions were sunning themselves on the rocks. The whole of San Francisco Bay spread out before them: the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island, and the green hills and fog beyond that to the north. A picture-perfect moment, save for the fact that they were about to die and the world was going to end.

"Go over the side!" Zoë told Percy. "You can escape in the sea, Percy. Call on thy father for help. Maybe you can save the Ophiotaurus."

She was right, but Percy would never do that.

"I won't leave you guys," he said. "We fight together."

"You have to get word to camp!" Grover said. "At least let them know what's going on!"

"Get word to camp..." Percy muttered, looking at the crystals, then at the water fountain beside them. "Good idea."

He uncapped his sword and slashed off the top of the water fountain. Water burst out of the busted pipe and sprayed all over them.

Thalia gasped as the water hit her. The fog seemed to clear from her eyes. "Are you crazy?" she asked.

But Grover understood. He was already fishing around in his pockets for a coin. He threw a golden drachma into the rainbows created by the mist and yelled, "O goddess, accept my offering!"

The mist rippled.

"Camp Half-Blood!" Percy said.

And there, shimmering in the Mist next to them, was Mr. D, wearing his leopard-skin jogging suit and rummaging through the refrigerator.

He looked up lazily. "Do you mind?"

"Where's Chiron!" Percy shouted.

"How rude." Mr. D took a swig from a jug of grape juice. "Is that how you say hello?"

"Hello," Percy amended. "We're about to die! Where's Chiron?"

Mr. D considered that for far too long. Behind them, footsteps and shouting—the manticore's troops were closing in.

"About to die," Mr. D mused. "How exciting. I'm afraid Chiron isn't here. Would you like me to take a message?"

Percy looked at his friends. "We're dead."

Thalia gripped her spear. She looked like her old angry self again. "Then we'll die fighting."

"How noble," Mr. D said, stifling a yawn. "So what is the problem, exactly?"

Percy told him about the Ophiotaurus.

"Mmm." Mr. D studied the contents of the fridge. "So that's it. I see."

"You don't even care!" Percy screamed. "You'd just as soon watch us die!"

"Let's see. I think I'm in the mood for pizza tonight."

Naomi didn't even have time to be outraged. The manticore screamed, "There!" And they were surrounded. Two of the guards stood behind him. The other two appeared on the roofs of the pier shops above them. The manticore threw off his coat and transformed into his true self, his lion claws extended and his spiky tail bristling with poison barbs.

"Excellent," he said. He glanced at the apparition in the mist and snorted. "Alone, without any real help. Wonderful."

"You could ask for help," Mr. D murmured to Percy, as if this were an amusing thought. "You Could say please."

Naomi summoned Hemlock. Zoë readied her arrows. Grover lifted his pipes. Thalia raised her shield.

"Please, Mr. D," Percy muttered. "Help."

The manticore grinned. "Spare the daughter of Zeus and the daughter of Persephone. They will join us soon enough. Kill the others."

The men raised their guns, and something strange happened.

There was a rush of disorientation all around them, and a sound like a huge sigh. The sun tinged with purple. Naomi smelled grapes and something more sour—wine.

SNAP!

It was the sound of many minds breaking at the same time. The sound of madness. One guard put his pistol between his teeth like it was a bone and ran around on all fours. Two others dropped their guns and started waltzing with each other. The fourth began doing what looked like an Irish clogging dance. It would have been funny if it hadn't been so terrifying.

"No!" screamed the manticore. "I will deal with you myself!"

His tail bristled, but the planks under his paws erupted into grape vines, which immediately began wrapping around the monster's body, sprouting new leaves and clusters of green baby grapes that ripened in seconds as the manticore shrieked, until he was engulfed in a huge mass of vines, leaves, and full clusters of purple grapes. Finally the grapes stopped shivering, and Naomi had a feeling that somewhere inside there, the manticore was no more.

"Well," said Dionysus, closing his refrigerator. "That was fun."

Percy stared at him, horrified. "How could you... How did you—"

"Such gratitude," Mr. D muttered. "The mortals will come out of it. Too much explaining to do if I made their condition permanent. I hate writing reports to Father."

He stared resentfully at Thalia. "I hope you learned your lesson, girl. It isn't easy to resist power, is it?"

Thalia blushed as if she were ashamed.

"Mr. D," Grover said in amazement. "You... you saved us."

"Mmm. Don't make me regret it, satyr. Now get going, Percy Jackson. I've bought you a few hours at most."

"The Ophiotaurus," Percy said. "Can you get it to camp?"

Mr. D sniffed. "I do not transport livestock. That's your problem."

"But where do we go?"

Dionysus looked at Zoë. "Oh, I think the huntress knows. You must enter at sunset today, you know, or all is lost. Now goodbye. My pizza is waiting."

"Mr. D," Percy said.

The god raised his eyebrow.

"You called me by the right name," Percy said. "You called me Percy Jackson."

"I most certainly did not, Peter Johnson. Now off with you!"

He waved his hand, and his image disappeared in the mist.

All around them, the manticore's minions were still acting completely nuts. One of them had found their friend the homeless guy, and they were having a serious conversation about metal angels from Mars. Several other guards were harassing the tourists, making animal noises and trying to steal their shoes.

Naomi looked at Zoë. "What did he mean... 'You know where to go'?"

Zoë's face was the color of the fog. She pointed across the bay, past the Golden Gate. In the distance, a single mountain rose up above the cloud layer.

"The garden of my sisters," she said. "I must go home."

Chapter 58: xvi. annabeth's dad is a nerd

Chapter Text

"WE WILL NEVER MAKE IT," Zoë said. "We are moving too slowly. But we cannot leave the Ophiotaurus."

"Mooo," Bessie said. He swam next to Percy as they jogged along the waterfront. They'd left the shopping-center pier far behind. They were heading toward the Golden Gate Bridge, but it was a lot further than Naomi had realized. The sun was already dipping in the west.

"I don't get it," Percy said. "Why do we have to get there at sunset?"

"The Hesperides are the nymphs of the sunset," Zoë said. "We can only enter their garden as day changes to night."

"What happens if we miss it?" Naomi asked nervously.

"Tomorrow is the winter solstice. If we miss sunset tonight, we would have to wait until tomorrow evening. And by then, the Olympian Council will be over. We must free Lady Artemis tonight."

Or Annabeth will be dead, Naomi thought, but didn't say.

"We need a car," Thalia said.

"But what about Bessie?" Percy asked.

Grover stopped in his tracks. "I've got an idea! The Ophiotaurus can appear in different bodies of water, right?"

"Well, yeah," Percy said. "I mean, he was in Long Island Sound. Then he just popped into the water at Hoover Dam. And now he's here."

"So maybe we could coax him back to Long Island Sound," Grover said. "Then Chiron could help us get him to Olympus."

"But he was following me," Percy said. "If I'm not there, would he know where he's going?"

"Moo," Bessie said forlornly.

"I... I can show him," Grover said. "I'll go with him."

Naomi stared at him. Grover was no fan of water. He'd almost drowned last summer in the Sea of Monsters, and he couldn't swim very well with his goat hooves.

"I'm the only one who can talk to him," Grover said. "It makes sense."

He bent down and said something in Bessie's ear. Bessie shivered, then made a contented, lowing sound.

"The blessing of the Wild," Grover said. "That should help with safe passage. Percy, pray to your dad, too. See if he will grant us safe passage through the seas."

Percy concentrated on the sea. "Dad," he said. "Help us. Get the Ophiotaurus and Grover safely to camp. Protect them at sea."

"A prayer like that needs a sacrifice," Thalia said. "Something big."

Percy thought for a moment. Then he took off his coat.

"Percy," Grover said. "Are you sure? That lion skin... that's really helpful. Hercules used it!"

Percy glanced at Zoë, then back at his spoil of war.

"If I'm going to survive," he said, "it won't be because I've got a lion-skin cloak. I'm not Hercules."

He threw the coat into the bay. It turned back into a golden lion skin, flashing in the light. Then, as it began to sink beneath the waves, it seemed to dissolve into sunlight on the water.

The sea breeze picked up.

Grover took a deep breath. "Well, no time to lose."

He jumped into the water and immediately began to sink. Bessie glided next to him and let Grover take hold of his neck.

"Be careful," Naomi told him.

"We will," Grover said. "Okay, um... Bessie? We're going to Long Island. It's east. Over that way."

"Moooo?" Bessie said.

"Yes," Grover answered. "Long Island. It's this island. And... it's long. Oh, let's just start."

"Moo!"

Bessie lurched forward. He started to submerge and Grover said, "I can't breathe underwater! Just thought I'd mention—" Glub!

Naomi hoped Poseidon's protection extended to little things, like breathing.

"Well, that is one problem addressed," Zoë said. "But how can we get to my sisters' garden?"

"Thalia's right," Percy said. "We need a car. But there's nobody to help us here. Unless we, uh, borrowed one."

"Wait," Thalia said. She started rifling through her backpack. "There is somebody in San Francisco who can help us. I've got the address here somewhere."

"Who?" Naomi asked.

Thalia pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper and held it up. "Professor Chase. Annabeth's dad."

After hearing Annabeth gripe about her dad for two years, Naomi was expecting him to have devil horns and fangs. She was not expecting him to be wearing an old-fashioned aviator's cap and goggles. He looked so weird, with his eyes bugging out through the glasses, that they all took a step back on the front porch.

"Hello," he said in a friendly voice. "Are you delivering my airplanes?"

Naomi and her friends looked at each other warily.

"Um, no, sir," Naomi said.

"Drat," Annabeth's dad said. "I need three more Sopwith Camels."

"Right," Percy said. "We're friends of Annabeth."

"Annabeth?" He straightened as if Percy had just given him an electric shock. "Is she all right? Has something happened?"

None of them answered, but their faces must've told him something was very wrong. Hetook off his cap and goggles. He had sandy-colored hair like Annabeth and intense brown eyes. He was handsome, Naomi supposed, but it looked like he hadn't shaved in a couple of days, and his shirt was buttoned wrong, so one side of his collar stuck up higher than the other side.

"You'd better come in," he said.

It didn't look like a house they'd just moved into. There were LEGO robots on the stairs and two cats sleeping on the sofa in the living room. The coffee table was stacked with magazines, and a little kid's winter coat was spread on the floor. The whole house smelled like fresh-baked chocolate-chip cookies. There was jazz music coming from the kitchen. It seemed like a messy, happy kind of home—the kind of place that had been lived in forever.

"Dad!" a little boy screamed. "He's taking apart my robots!"

"Bobby," Dr. Chase called absently, "don't take apart your brother's robots."

"I'm Bobby," the little boy protested. "He's Matthew!"

"Matthew," Dr. Chase called, "don't take apart your brother's robots!" He turned to the four teenagers. "We'll go upstairs to my study. This way."

"Honey?" a woman called. Annabeth's stepmom appeared in the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. She was a pretty Asian woman with red highlighted hair tied in a bun.

"Who are our guests?" she asked.

"Oh," Dr. Chase said. "This is..."

He stared at them blankly.

"Frederick," she chided. "You forgot to ask them their names?"

They introduced themselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seemed really nice. She asked if they were hungry. They admitted they were, and she told them she'd bring them some cookies and sandwiches and sodas.

"Dear," Dr. Chase said. "They came about Annabeth."

Naomi half-expected Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just pursed her lips and looked concerned. "All right. Go on up to the study and I'll bring you some food." She smiled at Naomi and Percy in particular. "Nice meeting you two. I've heard a lot about you."

Upstairs, they walked into Dr. Chase's study and Percy said, "Whoa!"

The room was wall-to-wall books and filled with war toys. There was a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hung on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.

Dr. Chase smiled. "Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I'm writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they've been given credit for."

He plucked a biplane from its string and swept it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocked down little German soldiers.

"Oh, right," Percy said.

Annabeth had said her dad was a professor of military history. She'd just never mentioned that he played with toy soldiers.

Zoë came over and studied the battlefield. "The German lines were farther from the river."

Dr. Chase stared at her. "How do you know that?"

"I was there," she said matter-of-factly. "Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste."

Dr. Chase opened his mouth in shock. "You—"

"She's a Hunter, sir," Thalia said. "But that's not why we're here. We need—"

"You saw the Sopwith Camels?" Dr. Chase said. "How many were there? What formations did they fly?"

"Sir," Thalia broke in again. "Annabeth is in danger."

That got his attention. He set the biplane down.

"Of course," he said. "Tell me everything."

It wasn't easy, but they tried. Meanwhile, the afternoon light was fading outside. They were running out of time.

When they'd finished, Dr. Chase collapsed in his leather recliner. He laced his hands. "My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry."

"Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais," Zoë said. "And we need it immediately."

"I'll drive you. Hmm. it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two."

"You... you have an actual airplane?" Naomi asked.

"Down at Crissy Field," Dr. Chase said proudly. "That's the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—"

"Sir," Thalia said. "Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It's too dangerous."

Dr. Chase frowned uncomfortably. "Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I... I can't just—"

"Snacks," Mrs. Chase announced. She pushed through the door with a tray full of peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Percy and Thalia inhaled a few cookies and Naomi picked up a sandwich while Zoë said, "I can drive, sir. I'm not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car."

Mrs. Chase knit her eyebrows. "What's this about?"

"Annabeth is in danger," Dr. Chase said. "On Mount Tam. I would drive them, but... apparently it's no place for mortals."

It sounded like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.

Naomi waited for Mrs. Chase to say no. Really, what mortal parent would allow four underage teenagers to borrow their car? But to Naomi's surprise, Mrs. Chase nodded. "Then they'd better get going."

"Right!" Dr. Chase jumped up and started patting his pockets. "My keys..."

His wife sighed. "Frederick, honestly. You'd lose your head if it weren't wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front door."

"Right!" Dr. Chase said.

Zoë grabbed a sandwich. "Thank you both. We should go. Now."

They hustled out the door and down the stairs, the Chases right behind them.

"Percy, Naomi," Mrs. Chase called as they were leaving, "tell Annabeth... tell her she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that."

Naomi took one last look at the messy living room, Annabeth's half-brothers spilling LEGOs and arguing, the smell of cookies filling the air.

"We'll tell her," Percy promised.

They ran out to the yellow VW convertible parked in the driveway. The sun was going down. Naomi figured they had less than an hour to save Annabeth.

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Thalia demanded.

Zoë glared at her. "I cannot control traffic."

"You both sound like my mother," Percy said.

"Shut up!" they said in unison.

Zoë weaved in and out of traffic on the Golden Gate Bridge. The sun was sinking on the horizon when they finally got into Marin County and exited the highway.

The roads were insanely narrow, winding through forests and up the sides of hills and around the edges of steep ravines. Zoë didn't slow down at all.

"Why does everything smell like cough drops?" Percy asked.

"Eucalyptus." Zoë pointed to the huge trees all around them.

"The stuff koala bears eat?"

"And monsters," she said. "They love chewing the leaves. Especially dragons."

"Dragons chew eucalyptus leaves?" Naomi asked.

"Believe me," Zoë said, "if you had dragon breath, you would chew eucalyptus too."

Naomi didn't question her, but she did keep her eyes peeled as they drove. Ahead of them loomed Mount Tamalpais. In terms of mountains, it was small, but it looked plenty huge as they were driving toward it.

Naomi touched the figurine in her pocket. The prophecy echoed in her mind. One shall greet death as a dear old friend. One shall perish by a parent's hand.

They were reaching the end of their quest, and there were still two more deaths in the prophecy.

At least half of the people in the car wouldn't be making it through the night.

Naomi's stomach twisted, and she understood now what that meant.

Death.

"So that's the Mountain of Despair?" Percy asked, looking up at Mount Tamalpais as they approached it.

"Yes," Zoë said tightly.

"Why do they call it that?"

She was silent for almost a mile before answering. "After the war between the Titans and the gods, many of the Titans were punished and imprisoned. Kronos was sliced to pieces and thrown into Tartarus. Kronos's right-hand man, the general of his forces, was imprisoned up there, on the summit, just beyond the Garden of the Hesperides."

"The General," Percy said. Clouds seemed to be swirling around its peak, as though the mountain was drawing them in, spinning them like a top. "What's going on up there? A storm?"

Zoë didn't answer. Naomi got the feeling she knew exactly what the clouds meant, and she didn't like it.

"We have to concentrate," Thalia said. "The Mist is really strong here."

"The magical kind or the natural kind?" Percy asked.

"Both."

The gray clouds swirled even thicker over the mountain, and they kept driving straight toward them. They were out of the forest now, into wide open spaces of cliffs and grass and rocks and fog.

"Look!" Percy shouted.

Naomi tried to follow his gaze, but they turned a corner, hills obscuring their view.

"What?" Thalia asked.

"A big white ship," Percy said. "Docked near the beach. It looked like a cruise ship."

Her eyes widened. "Luke's ship?"

"We will have company, then," Zoë said grimly. "Kronos's army."

The hairs on the back of Naomi's neck stood up.

Then, out of nowhere Thalia shouted, "Stop the car. NOW!"

Zoë must've sensed something was wrong, because she slammed on the brakes without question. The yellow VW spun twice before coming to a stop at the edge of the cliff.

"Out!" Thalia opened the door and pushed Percy hard. Naomi dove out of the backseat, landing next to Zoë as lightning flashed, and Dr. Chase's Volkswagen erupted like a canary-yellow grenade.

Zoë grabbed Naomi and pulled her out of the range of the shrapnel. Naomi opened her mouth to say something—a very shocked thank you for saving my life on the tip of her tongue—when Zoë slapped a hand over her mouth.

"Be silent!" Zoe hissed into her ear.

But it wasn't Naomi she should've worried about.

"Naomi! Zoë!" Percy shouted.

Zoë whispered a harsh curse, letting go of Naomi to grab Percy's arm. "Silence, fool! Do you want to wake Ladon?"

Percy grabbed Naomi's wrist, as if to double-check that she was actually there. "You mean we're here?" he asked Zoë.

"Very close," she said. "Follow me."

Sheets of fog were drifting right across the road. Zoë stepped into one of them, and when the fog passed, she was no longer there. Naomi, Thalia, and Percy looked at each other.

"Concentrate on Zoë," Thalia advised. "We are following her. Go straight into the fog and keep that in mind."

"Wait, Thalia," Percy said. "About what happened back on the pier... I mean, with the manticore and the sacrifice—"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You wouldn't actually have... you know?"

She hesitated. "I was just shocked. That's all."

"Zeus didn't send that lightning bolt at the car. It was Kronos. He's trying to manipulate you, make you angry at your dad."

She took a deep breath. "Percy, I know you're trying to make me feel better. Thanks. But come on. We need to go."

She stepped into the fog, into the Mist, and Percy and Naomi followed.

When the fog cleared, they were still on the side of the mountain, but the road was dirt. The grass was thicker. The sunset made a blood-red slash across the sea. The summit of the mountain seemed closer now, swirling with storm clouds and raw power. There was only one path to the top, directly in front of them. And it led through a lush meadow of shadows and flowers.

The Garden of the Hesperides was incredible. Even with the enormous, admittedly terrifying dragon, Naomi couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the place. The grass shimmered with silvery evening light, the flowers all brilliant colors that seemed to glow in the dark. Stepping stones of polished black marble led round either side of a five-story-tall apple tree, every bough glittering with golden apples. As soon as Naomi smelled them, she knew one bite would be the most delicious thing she'd ever taste.

"The apples of immortality," Thalia said. "Hera's wedding gift."

Part of Naomi wanted to step right up and pluck one, but the larger part was way too terrified of the dragon coiled around the tree.

The serpent's body was as thick as a rocket ship, glinting with coppery scales. It had more heads than Naomi could count, as if a hundred deadly pythons had been fused together. It appeared to be asleep, the heads curled in a big spaghetti-like mound on the grass, all eyes closed.

Then the shadows in front of them began to move. There was a beautiful, eerie singing, like voices from the bottom of a well. Percy reached for his sword, but Zoë stopped him. Four figures shimmered into existence—four young women who looked very much like Zoë.

They all wore white Greek chitons, their skin tawny brown and glowing in the garden's light. Silky black hair tumbled loose around their shoulders. It was strange, but Naomi hadn't realized how beautiful Zoë was until she saw her siblings, the Hesperides. They looked just like Zoë—gorgeous, and probably very dangerous.

"Sisters," Zoë said.

"We do not see any sister," one of the girls said coldly. "We see three half-bloods and a Hunter. All of whom shall soon die."

"You've got it wrong." Percy stepped forward. "Nobody is going to die."

The girls studied him. They had eyes like volcanic rock, glassy and completely black.

"Perseus Jackson," one of them said.

"Yes," mused another. "I do not see why he is a threat."

"Who said I was a threat?" Percy asked.

The first Hesperid glanced behind her, toward the top of the mountain. "They fear thee. They are unhappy that this one has not yet killed thee."

She pointed at Thalia.

"Tempting sometimes," Thalia admitted. "But no, thanks. He's my friend."

"There are no friends here, daughter of Zeus," the girl said. "Only enemies. Go back."

"Not without Annabeth," Naomi said.

"And Artemis," Zoë said. "We must approach the mountain."

"You know he will kill thee," the girl said. "You are no match for him."

"Artemis must be freed," Zoë insisted. "Let us pass."

The girl shook her head. "You have no rights here anymore. We have only to raise our voices and Ladon will wake."

"He will not hurt me," Zoë said.

"No? And what about thy so-called friends?"

Then Zoë did the last thing Naomi expected. She shouted, "Ladon! Wake!"

The dragon stirred, glittering like a mountain of pennies. The Hesperides yelped and scattered. The lead girl said to Zoë, "Are you mad?"

"You never had any courage, sister," Zoë said. "That is thy problem."

The dragon Ladon was writhing now, a hundred heads whipping around, tongues flickering and tasting the air. Zoë took a step forward, her arms raised.

"Zoë, don't," Thalia said. "You're not a Hesperid anymore. He'll kill you."

"Ladon is trained to protect the tree," Zoë said. "Skirt around the edges of the garden. Go up the mountain. As long as I am a bigger threat, he should ignore thee."

"Should doesn't mean will," Naomi said.

"It is the only way," Zoë said. "Even the four of us together cannot fight him."

Ladon opened his mouths. The sound of a hundred heads hissing at once sent a shiver down Naomi's back, and that was before his breath hit her. The smell was like acid. It made her eyes burn, her skin crawl, and her hair stand on end.

Zoë looked at Naomi. "You are a leader of this quest. Lead."

Naomi swallowed. After a half-second of hesitation, she said, "Thalia, go left. Percy, follow me around the right. Slow and steady."

Thalia and Percy nodded. They all started making their way through as Zoë walked straight toward the monster.

"It's me, my little dragon," Zoë said. "Zoë has come back."

Ladon shifted forward, then back. Some of the mouths closed. Some kept hissing. Meanwhile, the Hesperides shimmered and turned into shadows. The voice of the eldest whispered, "Fool."

"I used to feed thee by hand," Zoë continued, speaking in a soothing voice as she stepped toward the golden tree. "Do you still like lamb's meat?"

The dragon's eyes glinted.

Naomi, Thalia, and Percy were about halfway around the garden. Ahead, Naomi could see a single rocky trail leading up to the black peak of the mountain. The storm swirled around it, spinning on the summit like it was the axis for the whole world.

They'd almost made it out of the meadow when something went wrong. Naomi felt the dragon's mood shift like the wind changing. Maybe Zoë got too close. Maybe the dragon realized he was hungry.

Whatever the reason, he lunged at Zoë.

Two thousand years of training kept her alive. She dodged one set of slashing fangs and tumbled under another, weaving through the dragon's heads as she ran in Naomi and the others' direction, gagging from the monster's horrible breath.

Percy drew Riptide to help.

"No!" Zoë panted. "Run!"

The dragon snapped at her side, and Zoë cried out. Naomi thrust her hand out, shadows enveloping the heads' multiple fields of vision. In the wake of Ladon's sudden blindness, Zoë sprinted past them up the mountain, and Naomi and the others followed.

The dragon didn't try to pursue. The shadows faded from around its heads, and he hissed and stomped the ground, but he must have been well-trained to guard the tree. He wasn't going to be lured off, even by the tasty prospect of eating some heroes.

They ran up the mountain as the Hesperides resumed their song in the shadows behind them. The music didn't sound so beautiful anymore—now, it sounded like a funeral song.

Chapter 59: xvii. naomi makes a choice

Chapter Text

AT THE TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN were ruins—blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses, with broken columns and bronze statues that looked as though they'd been half melted.

"The ruins of Mount Othrys," Thalia whispered in awe.

"Yes," Zoë said. "It was not here before. This is bad."

"What's Mount Othrys?" Percy asked.

"The mountain fortress of the Titans," Zoë said. "In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was—" She winced and held her side.

"You're hurt," Naomi said. "Let me see."

"No! It is nothing," Zoë insisted. "I was saying... in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces."

"But... how is it here?" Percy asked.

Thalia looked around cautiously as they picked their way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. "It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good."

"Why?"

"This is Atlas's mountain," Zoë said. "Where he holds—" She froze. Her voice was ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit. A few yards ahead of them, gray clouds swirled in a heavy vortex, forming a funnel cloud that almost touched the mountaintop, but instead rested on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze chains. Just like Naomi and Percy had seen in their dreams.

It hadn't been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold. It was the sky.

"My lady!"

Zoë rushed forward, but Artemis said, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now."

Her voice was strained. She was drenched in sweat. Naomi had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky was clearly too much, even for Artemis.

Zoë was crying. She ran forward despite Artemis's protests, and tugged at the chains.

A booming voice spoke behind them: "Ah, how touching."

They turned. A man was standing there, wearing a brown silk suit, standing as tall as the columns that still remained. At his side was Luke and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. Annabeth stood at Luke's side. She had her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke was holding the point of his sword to her throat.

Naomi met her eyes, trying to ask a thousand silent questions. There was only one message Annabeth seemed to be sending: RUN!

"Luke," Thalia snarled. "Let her go."

Luke's smile was weak and pale. He looked awful, his face gaunt and the shadows beneath his eyes like smudges of charcoal against his skin. "That is the General's decision, Thalia. But it's good to see you again."

Thalia spat at him.

The General chuckled. "So much for old friends. And you, Zoë," he said. "It's been a long time. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you."

"Do not respond," Artemis groaned. "Do not challenge him."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "You're Atlas."

The General glanced at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

"You're not going to hurt Zoë," Percy said. "I won't let you."

The General sneered. "You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter."

Naomi frowned. "A family matter?"

"Yes," Zoë said bleakly. "Atlas is my father."

Unfortunately, Naomi could see the family resemblance. Atlas had the same regal expression as Zoë; the same cold, proud look in his eyes that Zoë sometimes got when she was mad, though on him it just looked evil. He was all the things Naomi had originally disliked about Zoë, with none of the good she'd come to know.

"Let Artemis go," Zoë demanded.

Atlas walked closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

Zoë opened her mouth to speak, but Artemis said, "No! Do not offer, Zoë! I forbid you."

Atlas smirked. He knelt next to Artemis and tried to touch her face, but the goddess snapped at him, almost taking off his fingers.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckled. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

He fixed his pitch-black eyes on Naomi, and it took every ounce of her strength not to shudder underneath his gaze. He sneered, like he was both amused and disappointed. "This is her? The forbidden daughter?"

Naomi fought a visible reaction, remembering Kronos's voice calling her the same thing.

"You don't look like much," Atlas said. "So—what will it be?"

Naomi couldn't stop the confused frown that spread across her mouth. "What are you talking about?"

Atlas laughed, and it was a sound like a catastrophic earthquake. "Of course they wouldn't tell you," he said. "Why would the gods prepare their children for their fates? The prophecy, girl. Your choice—allegiance to the new order, or death with your dying gods?"

"Naomi," Luke called. She refused to look at him, but that didn't stop him from talking. "It's not too late. If you pledge your allegiance to Kronos, he'll spare whoever you ask him to."

"Well, not whoever," Atlas corrected. "Some deaths are necessary."

Luke ignored him. "You can save Annabeth, Naomi. You can save Silena and Drew and your cabinmates. You can even save your mother—just... just come here."

The sarcophagus seemed to glow at his words, like a lighthouse guiding a ship home.

Naomi finally looked at Luke. "You're lying," she managed.

"He's not," Atlas said. "Make your choice, child." He smiled wickedly. "Unbind that darkness the gods are so worried about."

"Naomi," Luke insisted.

Naomi looked at him—at Atlas—at the sarcophagus glowing in the coming night.

Her fingers curled into fists.

She looked Luke in the eye, any fear that lingered in her drowning in a wave of fury. "I don't make bargains with monsters. I wouldn't join you if it was the last choice in the world."

Atlas sighed heavily. "A pity," he said. "I do hate a sudden change of plans."

Luke looked at him sharply. The sarcophagus seemed to hiss, almost in protest. "General?"

Atlas held up a hand, silencing him.

Naomi looked at Annabeth, who was already looking back at her and Percy. She looked like she was trying to tell them something, motioning her head toward Luke, but all Naomi could do was stare at her. She hadn't noticed it before, but something about Annabeth had changed. Her blonde hair was now streaked with gray.

"From holding the sky," Thalia muttered, as if she'd read Naomi's mind. "The weight should've killed her."

"I don't understand," Percy said. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas smirked. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaea first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." He smiled. "Unless someone else takes it from you."

He approached them, studying Thalia and Percy. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," Percy said. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

"So you're another coward," Percy said.

Atlas's eyes glowed with hatred. With difficulty, he turned his attention to Thalia. "As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you, too."

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. "Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waved his hand, and next to them a pool of water appeared: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persisted. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke..." Thalia's voice was full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods? Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Thalia shook her head. "Free Annabeth. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promised, "it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree..." His voice faltered. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

"Do not, Thalia," Zoë warned. "We must fight them."

Luke waved his hand again, and a fire appeared. A bronze brazier, just like the one at camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," Percy said. "No."

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus began to glow. As it did, Naomi saw images in the mist all around them: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful palace rising around them, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promised, in a voice so strained it was hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

He pointed toward the ocean. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, was a great army. Dracaenae and Laistrygonians, monsters and half-bloods—so many half-bloods—hellhounds, harpies, and other things Naomi couldn't even name. The whole ship must've emptied, because there were hundreds, many more than she'd seen on board last summer. And they were marching toward the mountain. In a few minutes, the already stacked battle ahead would turn into a quick and deadly bloodbath.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke said. "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitated. She gazed at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wanted in the world was to believe him.

Then she leveled her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleaded. "Please. Don't make me... Don't make him destroy you."

There was no time. If that army got to the top of the hill, Naomi and her companions would be overwhelmed. They'd be done for.

Naomi met Annabeth's eyes again. Staring right back, Annabeth nodded.

Naomi looked at her companions, and decided it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die fighting with friends like this.

"Now," she said.

Together, they charged.

Thalia went straight for Luke. The power in her shield was so great that his dragon-women bodyguards fled in a panic, dropping the golden coffin and leaving him alone. But despite his sickly appearance, Luke was still quick with his sword. He snarled like a wild animal and counter-attacked. When his sword and Backbiter met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils.

Naomi and Percy looked at each other, silent understanding passing between them.

They charged at Atlas as one.

The titan laughed as they approached. A huge javelin appeared in his hands. His silk suit melted into full Greek battle armor. "Go on, then!"

"Naomi! Percy!" Zoë said. "Beware!"

Percy swung his sword, and Atlas knocked him aside with the shaft of his javelin. Percy went flying, slamming into a black wall that was no longer an illusion.

Naomi ran at the titan, ducking under the first javelin swing and trying to swipe at the back of his knee, but he blocked the strike with ease. He kicked backward, his foot slamming into Naomi like a battering ram. Her back hit a black column with the force of a bullet. She squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of pain that radiated up and down her spine.

"Lord Kronos must have been wrong about you," Atlas sneered, looking down at her like she was little more than dirt. "As if you could decide the fate of this war. You're pathetic."

Percy had gotten back to his feet, and he charged again at Atlas, but he couldn't seem to move his sword-arm. He tried to dodge as the titan swung at him, but Atlas's javelin caught him in the chest and sent him flying like a rag doll, landing at the feet of Artemis.

Naomi forced herself to stand back up. She held her hand up as Atlas advanced on her, fashioning a blindfold of shadows over the titan's eyes.

For a moment, he stopped. Naomi felt a surge of relief, but it didn't even last a second.

Atlas reached a hand up, passing it through the shadows and parting it like steam from a pot.

He sneered at Naomi. "Is that all the darkness you have?" he taunted. "Like I said—pathetic."

He didn't even dignify her with a javelin strike. He raised his arm, slamming her to the side like a gnat.

Naomi hit her shoulder hard on the rough floor, and she bit back a cry of pain as she heard what she swore sounded like a crack. Her vision swam with unwelcome darkness.

Atlas turned away from her, deeming her a done-deal, and advanced on Percy. He raised his javelin over the son of Poseidon, poised for the kill, but Zoë intervened.

"No!" she yelled, and a volley of silver arrows sprouted from the armpit chink in Atlas's armor.

"ARGH!" He bellowed and turned toward his daughter.

Naomi's eyes swam with pained tears, but she managed to pull herself back to her feet. Her right arm was falling numb, and it hurt to move it even an inch, so she picked up her sword with her left hand, clutching it like a buoy in the middle of the sea.

Don't stop fighting until you're knocked out or dead, Clarisse had told her one autumn afternoon, standing over her with her spear aloft. Only cowards back down.

Naomi was many things, but after everything she'd been through in the past few years, there was one thing she wasn't:

A coward.

"Atlas!" she shouted, thanking whoever might have been the god of voices when hers didn't crack. When his pitch-black eyes met hers once again, she steeled her expression. "Is that all you've got?"

The titan, predictably, laughed. He advanced toward her. "You have spirit, I'll give you that," he conceded. "Just not enough to last you."

Naomi didn't wait for him to make the first move. She charged.

She managed to jam Hemlock into his side, in the gap between the front and back of his chest armor. The blade barely made it half a foot into his side before Atlas bellowed with rage, knocking her aside and yanking her sword out of him before throwing it off the mountain. Naomi flew back a few feet, but it was as if the wind thickened—or, rather, the shadows around the rebuilding palace embraced her, slowing her down and cushioning her fall.

The shadows curled around her limbs, and she felt a surge of energy. But it was no use—not without a weapon.

As if responding to that desperate thought, the shadows reached out, slithering across the marble like snakes, wrapping around Atlas's legs. The shadows crept up his chest, his neck, his face. He swatted them away, but it took him more than one pass to make them dissipate, as if they'd changed from steam to something thicker.

Naomi managed to get to her feet once more.

Atlas glared at her through the fading darkness around his eyes. "Perhaps you would make a fine weapon," he said. "But Lord Kronos made me his lieutenant for a reason. I can make the tough calls when they need to be made."

His eyes were like voids of nothingness, glaring down at her with hatred more ancient than the gods she descended from.

"If you will not be our weapon," he said, his voice like the shifting of tectonic plates, "you will be nothing at all."

The world slowed to a crawl. The dread that had settled in Naomi's stomach earlier reminded her of its existence, filling her entire body with terrible understanding, with knowledge she could never unknow.

She tried to get back, but her feet moved like she was trying to pass through amber. Around her, the battle raged on. She heard her friends shouting; she heard Luke and Thalia fighting; she saw Artemis, freed from her burden, just one second too slow; she saw Percy straining under the weight of the sky, his face strained (it was too heavy, and she knew he could bear it, but there was a difference between could and should); she saw Annabeth screaming, her cheeks covered with tears (why was she crying? was she hurt?).

Naomi saw Atlas's javelin coming closer, closer, closer—

And then it hit home.

She barely registered the pain before Atlas yanked the spear out, leaving the wound to bleed freely. His face was full of smug fury as Naomi collapsed to her knees.

The volume of the world pitched so low she could hardly hear it. Through a ringing in her ears, she heard her name. She recognized the voices, even so low, even through the haze—Percy and Annabeth.

She knew they could see her. She wished they couldn't—a death this brutal and up-close wasn't something you should witness so young.

But they weren't that young anymore, were they?

As her knees hit the hard ground, Atlas swung again. The sharp tip of his javelin cut a brutal line across her cheek, from her temple to the corner of her mouth—a mark that could never be erased.

"A pity," Atlas said. "You could have made things so much easier for us." He leaned down, gripping her hair and forcing her bleeding face up to look at his. "But we will bring Olympus down without your darkness—don't worry."

When he let go, there was nothing to stop her from falling, her head hitting the floor of the Titan base.

Chapter 60: xviii. death is an old friend

Chapter Text

THE DARKNESS THAT GREETED HER WAS NEW. As Naomi's eyes adjusted to this strange, unfamiliar black, she wondered if she was in the Underworld—if perhaps it looked different for the dead than it did the living.

But she knew that wasn't it. This darkness was somehow greater, deeper, even than her mother's seasonal home.

"Naomi," a voice called, the tone both terrifying and comforting in the same unexplainable way. "Hello again."

Naomi turned, though she wasn't sure why—the voice came from all around, not from any one direction. But when she stopped, a figure stepped closer, and Naomi could make out his face.

He was a stranger; that much she was sure of. He was tall and lean, his face like that of a merciful king's—stern but with kind, dark eyes that were not as frightening as Naomi thought they should have been. Black hair flowed down his shoulders in tiny braids, brushing the tops of his broad shoulders. His skin was dark like umber.

Something told Naomi that she should have been afraid; that any rational mortal would tremble before this figure, would drop to their knees and plead for mercy. But she wasn't afraid, and she wasn't sure if that was bravery or naivety.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"Where all souls come, eventually," the stranger answered. "The end of the mortal road."

The line in the prophecy came back to her like a tidal wave.

One shall greet death as an old friend.

Grief seized Naomi's heart in a vice grip.

"You're Death," she said.

"You may call me that," he said. "Or you may call me Thanatos."

Naomi touched her stomach, where the pain of her wound had faded into nothing. Her hand still came away bloody, though.

"I'm dead," she whispered.

The god almost appeared amused. "I am afraid not, Naomi," Thanatos said. "Death now would be a mercy."

Naomi's brow furrowed. "I don't understand."

"This is not the end of your story," he told her. "Artemis's magic will see you through."

"But—the prophecy, it said—"

"It said we would meet," Thanatos said. "It never said I would come to take you away."

Naomi still didn't understand. "If I'm not dying... why are you here?"

Thanatos tilted his head just slightly. "It seems the Fates wished for us to meet again."

Naomi frowned. Now she was more confused. "Again?"

"You were such a little thing," he said quietly—almost mournfully. "It always hurts to take a father from his child so early. Especially when that child is still in his arms."

Naomi felt like a grenade had gone off in her chest, and the blast made her stumble back a step, knocking her world off-kilter. She stared up at the god of death, torn between shock and confusion. "My... my father?"

Thanatos hummed. "A good man," he said. "It seems those are the ones who come to me the soonest."

He held something out to her: a small photograph, glossy and pristine.

"He had this in his wallet that night," Thanatos told her. "Queen Persephone asked that I get it to you."

Naomi took the picture with a shaking hand.

It was a picture of a man she'd never seen before, but her throat tightened at the sight of him, because she knew him. She knew his eyes, his hair, his nose. She knew them because they were hers, right down to the faintest splash of freckles across the bridge of her nose, so light you had to know they were there to even see them. She had seen this face in her own reflection her entire life.

Her father.

On the back, in handwriting Naomi didn't recognize, she read: Ben & Naomi Sakura, August 2000.

Grief once again took hold of her, but it was a different grief—a quiet anguish, a silent sea of regret.

Her entire life, she'd resented her parents, believing that they'd abandoned her. Even after Persephone claimed her, that resentment had lingered, festering like an infected wound, poisoning the relationship her mother so desperately wanted to have with her. She had shunned the very idea of her father, letting herself believe he'd given her up, that he'd had a choice, and he's chosen to say goodbye.

She'd spent her entire life hating a goddess bound by ancient laws and a dead man—a man who'd held her in his arms in his dying moments. A man good enough for even Death to regret taking him.

A tear slipped down her wounded cheek, but the salt didn't sting the way it should have.

"How..." Naomi choked on her own voice. "How did he...?"

Thanatos's expression was one of pity. "I am sorry," he said. "You cannot know that just yet."

"What?" Naomi asked, her voice catching. "What do you mean?"

"Knowledge is a dangerous thing," he warned.

"That—that's not fair." She meant for it to come out in a shout, but it was only a pitiful whimper.

Thanatos's gaze softened. "I know."

Naomi opened her mouth—to plead for him to tell her, to ask him another question, but a sudden, sharp ache in her stomach stopped her in her tracks.

She pressed her hand against her open wound again. This time, she could feel it with perfect, agonizing clarity. The cut on her face burned.

"Until we meet again, Naomi Sakura," Thanatos said softly. "I pray it is decades from now, but... I suppose we shall see."

One moment, he was looking at her with that same deep, honest pity.

The next, Naomi was gasping awake under a new constellation.

Almost as soon as she registered that she was even awake, she heard her name in a strangled gasp. Percy's face appeared in her vision, and the relief in his eyes alone could have brought the dead back to life.

And then there was Annabeth's face appearing next to his, the moonlight reflecting off the tear tracks on her face, but the tears that still glistened in her eyes now were relieved.

Her voice was quieter than Naomi remembered as Annabeth whispered, "You're okay."

"As I said," came the soft, pained voice of a goddess, "it is not her time."

Naomi blinked, trying to make sense of what she'd woken up to. She was no longer on Mount Tamalpais, but instead lying in grass somewhere else, the night sky looking down on her.

Annabeth's hands were free. Percy was no longer holding the weight of the sky. They both looked exhausted, each of them now sporting pieces of gray hair. Thalia stood behind Annabeth, next to Professor Chase. When had he gotten there? How long had Naomi been asleep, or dead, or... whatever she had been?

A few feet away, the goddess Artemis stood, silver light flickering around her form. Zoë was nowhere in sight.

Naomi looked back up at the night sky, where a new cluster of stars had taken root in the endless black, shaped like an archer with an arrow notched in her bow.

She didn't need to ask. She knew it the same way she knew Bianca was dead, the same way she'd known—thought—she was dead.

Zoë Nightshade was gone.

Swallowing a surge of grief, Naomi tried to sit up. Almost immediately, she was trying to swallow a surge of pain, too.

"Here." Percy's hands were shaking as he handed her a piece of ambrosia.

Naomi barely chewed before swallowing, praying the pain would ease quickly.

After a moment, Percy and Annabeth helped her to her feet, and it was only a little awful to move.

"Atlas...?" she asked, her voice as rough as salt on stone.

"Carrying his old burden once more," Artemis informed her.

Naomi managed a nod.

"I must go to Olympus immediately," the goddess told them. "I will not be able to take you, but I will send help."

The goddess began to say her goodbyes. She set her hand on Annabeth's cheek. "You are brave beyond your measure, my girl. You will do what is right?"

She turned to Naomi, her gaze one of approval and... pity. The same pity she'd seen in Thanatos's eyes moments ago; the same pity she'd seen in her mother's, every time she'd ever seen her. "This will not be the last time Kronos and his army try to make you into their weapon," she warned. "Nor will it be the last time you prove that they can do no such thing."

Naomi wanted to ask what the goddess meant; what Atlas had meant, about a choice she had to make; what Thanatos had meant, about death now being a mercy. But she couldn't bring herself to voice the question. She wasn't sure Artemis would even answer, and if she did—Naomi wasn't sure she wanted to know.

The goddess looked quizzically at Thalia, as if she weren't sure what to make of the younger daughter of Zeus. Thalia seemed reluctant to look up, but something made her, and she held the goddess's eyes. Naomi wasn't sure what passed between them, but Artemis's gaze softened with sympathy. Then she turned to Percy.

"You did well," she said. "For a man."

Percy looked like he wanted to protest, but then he stopped himself.

Artemis mounted her chariot, which began to glow. Everyone averted their eyes. There was a flash of silver, and the goddess was gone.

"Well," Dr. Chase sighed. "She was impressive, though I must say I still prefer Athena."

Annabeth looked at him. "Dad, I... I'm so sorry that—"

"Shh." Percy took Naomi's weight so Annabeth could go to her father for a hug. "Do what you must, my dear. I know this isn't easy for you."

His voice was a little shaky, but he gave Annabeth a brave smile.

Then Naomi heard the whoosh of large wings. Three pegasi descended through the fog: two white winged horses and one pure black one.

"Blackjack!" Percy called.

Blackjack must have said something, because Percy responded, "It was rough."

After a moment, the black pegasus looked Percy and Naomi over with concern, then checked out Dr. Chase, Thalia, and Annabeth.

"Nah," Percy said to something Blackjack asked. "These are my friends. We need to get to Olympus pretty fast."

Dr. Chase was staring open-mouthed at the pegasi. "Fascinating," he said. "Such maneuverability! How does the wingspan compensate for the weight of the horse's body, I wonder?"

Blackjack cocked his head.

"Why, if the British had had these pegasi in the cavalry charges on the Crimea," Dr. Chase said, "the charge of the light brigade—"

"Dad!" Annabeth interrupted.

Dr. Chase blinked. He looked at his daughter and managed a smile. "I'm sorry, my dear, I know you must go."

He gave her one last awkward, well-meaning hug. As she turned to climb aboard one of the pegasi, Dr. Chase called, "Annabeth. I know... I know San Francisco is a dangerous place for you. But please remember, you always have a home with us. We will keep you safe."

Annabeth didn't answer, but her eyes were red as she turned away. Dr. Chase started to say more, then apparently thought better of it. He raised his hand in a sad farewell and trudged away across the dark field.

Percy helped Naomi onto Blackjack's back. The wound on her stomach was closed thanks to whatever magic Artemis had used, but it still stung, and even immortally-healed wounds could be ripped back open.

Percy climbed on behind her as Thalia and Annabeth mounted the other two pegasi. Together they soared over the bay and flew toward the eastern hills. Soon San Francisco was only a glittering crescent behind them, with an occasional flicker of lightning in the north.

Thalia was so exhausted that she fell asleep on her pegasus's back, and though Naomi probably should have been the same way given the circumstances, it seemed her meeting with Death had left her too wired to sleep.

Percy's arm was around Naomi's waist, probably just to keep them both steady on Blackjack's back, but his hand covered her wound entirely. She wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but she was glad for it either way.

Blackjack and Annabeth's pegasus flew along side-by-side.

"Your dad seems cool," Percy told Annabeth.

It was too dark to see her expression. She looked back, even though California was far behind them.

"I guess so," she said. "We've been arguing for so many years."

"Yeah, you said."

"You think I was lying about that?" It sounded like a challenge, but a half-hearted one, like she was asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying," Percy said. "It's just... he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last."

Annabeth hesitated. "They're still in San Francisco, Percy. I can't live so far from camp."

Naomi swallowed against the dryness in her throat. Part of her was afraid to ask, but she had to know. "So, what are you going to do now?"

They flew over a town—an island of lights in a sea of darkness. It whisked by so fast they might've been in an airplane.

"I don't know," Annabeth admitted. "But thank you for rescuing me."

"Hey, no big deal," Percy said. "We're friends."

"You didn't believe I was dead?"

"Never," Percy and Naomi said in the same moment.

Annabeth hesitated. "Neither is Luke, you know. I mean... he isn't dead."

Percy stared at her. Naomi hadn't asked yet what had happened to Luke or his army, but judging from the expression on Percy's face, Luke being alive wasn't something he thought possible. "Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There's no way—"

"He isn't dead," she insisted. "I know it. The same way you two knew about me."

Naomi wasn't a fan of that comparison.

The towns were zipping by faster now, islands of light blurring together, thickening until the whole landscape below was a glittering carpet. Dawn was close. The eastern sky was turning gray. And, up ahead, a huge white-and-yellow glow spread out before them—the lights of New York.

"You're the man, Blackjack," Percy said. "Er, the horse, I mean."

"You don't believe me about Luke," Annabeth said, "but we'll see him again. He's in trouble. He's under Kronos's spell."

Neither Percy nor Naomi responded, but Percy's arm tensed around Naomi's waist.

"There it is." Thalia's voice; she'd woken up. She was pointing toward Manhattan, which was quickly zooming into view. "It's started."

"What's started?" Percy asked.

Then they saw where she was pointing. High above the Empire State Building, Olympus was its own island of light, a floating mountain ablaze with torches and braziers, white marble palaces gleaming in the early morning air.

"The winter solstice," Thalia said. "The Council of the Gods."

Chapter 61: xix. the gods decide their fate

Chapter Text

THEY CIRCLED OVER MIDTOWN MANHATTAN, making one complete orbit around Mount Olympus. Naomi had only been there once before, traveling by elevator up to the secret six hundredth floor of the Empire State Building.

This time, somehow, Olympus amazed her even more.

In the early-morning darkness, torches and fires made the mountainside palaces glow twenty different colors, from blood red to indigo. Apparently no one slept on Olympus (except maybe the sleep gods). The twisting streets were full of demigods and nature spirits and minor godlings bustling about, riding chariots or sedan chairs carried by Cyclopes.

Winter didn't seem to exist here. Naomi caught the scent of the gardens in full bloom—jasmine and roses and honeysuckle and buttercups. Music drifted up from many windows, the soft sounds of lyres and reed pipes.

Towering at the peak of the mountain was the greatest palace of all, the glowing white hall of the gods.

The pegasi set them down in the outer courtyard, in front of huge silver gates. Before anyone could even knock, the gates opened by themselves.

The pegasi flew away, leaving Naomi, Thalia, Percy, and Annabeth alone—but only for a moment. A pretty girl around their age skipped out of the nearest garden, her paper-white skin flushed orange.

"Lilium!" Naomi couldn't help but smile.

"I was wondering if you would recognize me," the nymph said, grinning at Naomi like they were old friends—which, this time, they were.

"This a friend of yours, Naomi?" Thalia asked with a raised eyebrow.

"An old friend," Lilium said with a jovial smile. She flourished a hand and a crown made of lilies and stems appeared on her arm. She set it on Naomi's head, still smiling. "Your mother says hello—and congratulations." The smile faded a bit. "And sorry."

Whether it was for Naomi nearly dying, or losing Bianca and Zoe, or finding out the father she'd never known and unfairly resented had been dead since she was a baby, Naomi didn't know. Still, she nodded, managing a small, grateful smile.

"Good luck inside," Lilium said. She looked pointedly at Percy. "And mind your manners."

Percy blinked, clearly surprised, but Lilium flitted back to her garden before he could respond.

Annabeth poked one of the lilies on Naomi's head, smiling softly. "Cute."

Naomi hoped no one noticed her blushing.

For a moment, the four half-bloods just stood there, regarding the palace, the way they'd stood in front of Westover Hall, which seemed like a lifetime ago.

And then, together, they walked into the throne room.

Twelve enormous thrones made a U around a central hearth, just like the placement of the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. The ceiling above glittered with constellations—even the newest one, Zoë the Huntress, making her way across the heavens with her bow drawn.

All of the seats were occupied. Each god and goddess was about fifteen feet tall, their eyes turning toward the demigods all at once.

"Welcome, heroes," Artemis said.

"Mooo!"

That's when Naomi noticed Bessie and Grover.

A sphere of water was hovering in the center of the room, next to the hearth fire. Bessie was swimming happily around, swishing his serpent tail and poking his head out the sides and bottom of the sphere. He seemed to be enjoying the novelty of swimming in a magic bubble.

Grover was kneeling at Zeus's throne, as if he'd just been giving a report, but when he saw his friends, he cried, "You made it!"

He started to run toward them, then remembered he was turning his back on Zeus, and looked for permission.

"Go on," Zeus said. But he wasn't really paying attention to Grover. The lord of the sky was staring intently at Thalia.

Grover trotted over. None of the gods spoke. Every clop of Grover's hooves echoed on the marble floor. Bessie splashed in his bubble of water. The hearth fire crackled, warm and inviting.

Under the scrutinizing eyes of the Olympians, Naomi wasn't sure where to look. Part of her wished her mother was part of the council, just so Naomi wouldn't feel so alone. She would even have felt a little better if her stepfather was there (a thought as surprising as it was confusing). She knew Hades was only allowed on Mount Olympus on the winter solstice, but he was still absent, and she couldn't help but wonder why.

Grover gave Naomi, Annabeth, and Thalia big hugs. Then he grasped Percy's arms. "Percy, Bessie and I made it! But you have to convince them! They can't do it!"

"Do what?" Percy asked.

"Heroes," Artemis called.

The goddess slid down from her throne and turned to human size, a young auburn-haired girl, perfectly at ease in the midst of the giant Olympians. She walked toward them, her silver robes shimmering. There was no emotion in her face. She seemed to walk in a column of moonlight.

"The Council has been informed of your deeds," Artemis told us. "They know that Mount Othrys is rising in the West. They know of Atlas's attempt for freedom, and the gathering armies of Kronos. We have voted to act."

There was some mumbling and shuffling among the gods, as if they weren't all happy with this plan, but nobody protested.

"At my Lord Zeus's command," Artemis said, "my brother Apollo and I shall hunt the most powerful monsters, seeking to strike them down before they can join the Titans' cause. Lady Athena shall personally check on the other Titans to make sure they do not escape their various prisons. Lord Poseidon has been given permission to unleash his full fury on the cruise ship Princess Andromeda and send it to the bottom of the sea. And as for you, my heroes..."

She turned to face the other immortals. "These half-bloods have done Olympus a great service. Would any here deny that?"

Artemis looked around at the assembled gods, meeting their faces individually. Zeus in his dark pinstriped suit, his black beard neatly trimmed, and his eyes sparkling with energy. Next to him sat a beautiful woman with silver hair braided over one shoulder and a dress that shimmered with colors like peacock feathers. Queen Hera.

On Zeus's right, Poseidon. Next to him, a huge lump of a man with a leg in a steel brace, a misshapen head, and a wild brown beard, fire flickering through his whiskers—the Lord of the Forges, Hephaestus. Hermes in a business suit, checking messages on a cell phone. Apollo with headphones on, shooting them a thumbs-up. Dionysus looked predictably bored, twirling a grapevine between his fingers. And there was Ares, glowering at Percy as he sharpened his knife.

On the ladies' side of the throne room, a dark-haired goddess in green robes sat next to Hera on a throne woven of apple-tree branches. Demeter, Goddess of the Harvest—Naomi's divine grandmother. She offered the daughter of Persephone a barely-there smile, her green eyes glittering like wet leaves in the sunlight.

Next to her sat a beautiful gray-eyed woman in an elegant white dress. She could only be Annabeth's mother, Athena. Then there was Aphrodite, who smiled knowingly at Naomi and Percy. Naomi didn't let her gaze linger, more than a little bashful.

All the Olympians in one place. So much power in one room that it was a miracle the whole palace didn't blow apart.

"I gotta say," Apollo broke the silence, "these kids did okay." He cleared his throat and began to recite: "Heroes win laurels—"

"Um, yes, first class," Hermes interrupted, like he was anxious to avoid Apollo's poetry. "All in favor of not disintegrating them?"

Demeter was the first to raise her hand, which made Naomi smile a little. Aphrodite raised hers as well.

"Wait just a minute," Ares growled. He pointed at Thalia and Percy. "These two are dangerous. And that one"—he stabbed a finger at Naomi—"could destroy everything. It'd be much safer, while we've got them here—"

"Ares," Poseidon interrupted, "they are worthy heroes. We will not blast my son to bits."

"Nor my daughter," Zeus grumbled. "She has done well."

Thalia blushed. She studied the floor, unsure how to take a compliment from her father.

The goddess Athena cleared her throat and sat forward. "I am proud of my daughter as well. But there is a security risk here, with the other three."

"Mother!" Annabeth said. "How can you—"

Athena cut her off with a calm but firm look. "It is unfortunate that my father, Zeus, and my uncle, Poseidon, chose to break their oath not to have more children. Only Hades kept his word, a fact that I find ironic. As we know from the Great Prophecy, children of the three elder gods... such as Thalia and Percy... are dangerous. And as for the forbidden daughter..." She looked warily at Naomi. "As thickheaded as he is, Ares has a point."

If Naomi hadn't already had a brush with Death that day, she might have plucked up the nerve to ask the gods just what the hell the prophecy said about her, because she was sick of being kept in the dark.

But she had had a brush with Death, and one was enough for a lifetime.

"Right!" Ares said. "Hey, wait a min—"

"I disagree," Demeter said, cutting the war god off. "It is unjust to harm these children for what they may do."

"But the prophecy—" Ares started to argue.

"As we are all aware," Demeter said, raising her voice to be heard above Ares's protests, "prophecies are never so easily unraveled—or avoided. If we destroy these heroes now, it will only delay the inevitable, and give Kronos more time to gather his strength and his forces. I believe we can all agree that that must be avoided at all costs." She fixed the god of war with a brave glare. "Have I made myself clear, or should I use smaller words to get through the cotton between your ears, child?"

Ares's face reddened with embarrassment and rage. "Child? Who you callin' a child?"

"You," Demeter said, unbothered. "Is the cotton truly so thick that you couldn't hear me the first time?"

Ares started to get up, but a grape vine grew around his waist like a seat belt and pulled him back down.

"Oh, please, Ares," Dionysus sighed. "Save the fighting for later."

Ares cursed and ripped away the vine. "You're one to talk, you old drunk. You seriously want to protect these brats?"

Dionysus gazed down at the demigods wearily. "I have no love for them. Athena, do you truly think it safest to destroy them?"

"I do not pass judgment," Athena said. "I only point out the risk. What we do, the Council must decide."

"I will not have these heroes punished," Artemis said. "I will have them rewarded. If we destroy heroes who do us a great favor, then we are no better than the Titans. If this is Olympian justice, I will have none of it."

"Calm down, sis," Apollo said. "Jeez, you need to lighten up."

"Don't call me sis! I will reward them."

"Well," Zeus grumbled. "Perhaps. But the monster at least must be destroyed. We have agreement on that?"

A lot of nodding heads.

"Bessie?" Percy asked. "You want to destroy Bessie?"

"Mooooooo!" Bessie protested.

Poseidon frowned. "You have named the Ophiotaurus Bessie?"

"Dad," Percy said, "he's just a sea creature. A really nice sea creature. You can't destroy him."

Poseidon shifted uncomfortably. "Percy, the monster's power is considerable. If the Titans were to steal it, or—"

"You can't," Percy insisted. He looked at Zeus. "Controlling prophecies never works. Isn't that true? Besides, Bess—the Ophiotaurus is innocent. Killing something like that is wrong. It's like Lady Demeter said—we can't kill him because of what he might do. It's wrong!"

Zeus seemed to consider this. His eyes drifted to his daughter Thalia. "And what of the risk? Kronos knows full well, if one of you were to sacrifice the beast's entrails, you would have the power to destroy us. Do you think we can let that possibility remain? You, my daughter, will turn seventeen on the morrow, just as the prophecy says."

"You have to trust them," Annabeth spoke up. "Sir, you have to trust them."

Zeus scowled. "Trust a hero?"

"Annabeth is right," Artemis said. "Which is why I must first make a reward. My faithful companion, Zoë Nightshade, has passed into the stars. I must have a new lieutenant. And I intend to choose one. But first, Father Zeus, I must speak to you privately."

Zeus beckoned Artemis forward. He leaned down and listened as she spoke in his ear.

Percy tensed, and a moment later, Naomi understood why. She remembered the brochure in Annabeth's bag, Artemis's offer.

Panic seized her, and she reached for Annabeth's hand, as if she could keep her next to her forever, or just for a moment longer.

"Annabeth," Percy said under his breath. "Don't."

She frowned at him. "What?"

"Look, I need to tell you something," he continued. "I couldn't stand it if... I don't want you to—"

Annabeth looked from him to Naomi. "You both look like you're going to be sick."

That's how Naomi felt. She wanted to say something, but her lips couldn't move.

And then Artemis turned.

"I shall have a new lieutenant," she announced. "If she will accept it."

"No," Percy murmured.

"Thalia," Artemis said. "Daughter of Zeus. Will you join the Hunt?"

Stunned silence filled the room. Naomi stared at Thalia, unable to believe what she was hearing. Annabeth smiled. She squeezed Thalia's hand with her free one and let it go, as if she'd been expecting this all along.

"I will," Thalia said firmly.

Zeus rose, his eyes full of concern. "My daughter, consider well—"

"Father," she said. "I will not turn seventeen tomorrow. I will never turn seventeen. I won't let this prophecy be mine. I stand with my sister Artemis. Kronos will never tempt me again."

She knelt before the goddess and began the words Naomi remembered from Bianca's oath, which seemed like so long ago. "I pledge myself to the goddess Artemis. I turn my back on the company of men..."

Afterwards, Thalia did something that surprised Naomi almost as much as the pledge. She came over to Percy, smiled and, in front of the whole assembly, gave him a big hug.

Percy blushed.

when she pulled away and gripped his shoulders, Percy said, "Um... aren't you supposed to not do that anymore? Hug boys, I mean?"

"I'm honoring a friend," she corrected. "I must join the Hunt, Percy. I haven't known peace since... since Half-Blood Hill. I finally feel like I have a home. But you're a hero. You will be the one of the prophecy."

"Great," Percy muttered.

Thalia smiled. "I'm proud to be your friend."

She hugged Naomi, and Naomi didn't even mind the pull in her side as she wrapped her arms around the daughter of Zeus. She hugged Annabeth, who was trying hard not to cry. Then she even hugged Grover, who looked ready to pass out, like somebody had given him an all-you-can-eat enchilada coupon.

Then Thalia went to stand by Artemis's side.

"Now for the Ophiotaurus," Artemis said.

"This boy is still dangerous," Dionysus warned. "The beast is a temptation to great power. Even if we spare the boy—"

"No." Percy looked around at all the gods. "Please. Keep the Ophiotaurus safe. My dad can hide him under the sea somewhere, or keep him in an aquarium here in Olympus. But you have to protect him."

"And why should we trust you?" rumbled Hephaestus.

"I'm only fifteen," Percy said. "If this prophecy is about me, that's two more years."

"Two years for Kronos to deceive you," Athena said. "Much can change in two years, my young hero."

"Mother!" Annabeth said, exasperated.

"It is only the truth, child. It is bad strategy to keep the animal alive. Or the boy."

Percy's father stood. "I will not have a sea creature destroyed, if I can help it. And I can help it."

He held out his hand, and a trident appeared in it: a twenty foot long bronze shaft with three spear tips that shimmered with blue, watery light. "I will vouch for the boy and the safety of the Ophiotaurus."

"You won't take it under the sea!" Zeus stood suddenly. "I won't have that kind of bargaining chip in your possession."

"Brother, please," Poseidon sighed.

Zeus's lightning bolt appeared in his hand, a shaft of electricity that filled the whole room with the smell of ozone.

"Fine," Poseidon said. "I will build an aquarium for the creature here. Hephaestus can help me. The creature will be safe. We shall protect it with all our powers. The boy will not betray us. I vouch for this on my honor."

Zeus thought about this. "All in favor?"

To Naomi's surprise, a lot of hands went up. Dionysus abstained, as did Ares and Athena. But everybody else...

"We have a majority," Zeus decreed. "And so, since we will not be destroying these heroes... I imagine we should honor them. Let the triumph celebration begin!"

Chapter 62: xx. highs and lows

Summary:

[the song naomi hears during the slow dance is "for island fires and family" by dermot kennedy... do with that what you will 3]

Chapter Text

THERE WERE PARTIES. There were huge, major, blowout parties. And then there were Olympian parties.

The latter was like nothing Naomi had ever seen before.

The Nine Muses cranked up the tunes, and she realized the music was whatever you wanted it to be: the gods could listen to classical and younger demigods heard pop or whatever, and it was all the same soundtrack. No arguments. No fights to change the radio station. Just requests to crank it up.

Dionysus went around growing refreshment stands out of the ground, and a beautiful woman walked with him arm-in-arm—his wife, Ariadne. Dionysus looked happy for the first time since Naomi had met him, which was incredibly disconcerting to see. She hadn't thought he even knew how to smile.

Nectar and ambrosia overflowed from golden fountains, and platters of mortal snack food crowded the banquet tables. Golden goblets filled with whatever drink you wanted. Grover trotted around with a full plate of tin cans and enchiladas, and his goblet was full of double-espresso latte, which he kept muttering over like an incantation: "Pan! Pan!"

Almost as soon as the festivities began, Demeter officially introduced herself to her granddaughter.

"I will admit," she said, tilting Naomi's face to-and-fro to get a good look at her, "the family resemblance is a bit... lackluster." Her face softened into a smile. "But you have your mother's heart. I can tell."

A year ago, the compliment might have felt like an insult. But now Naomi only smiled. "Thank you, Lady Demeter."

Demeter waved a hand dismissively. "You may call me Grandmother," she said kindly. "All of my grandchildren do." She looked at something behind Naomi. "Ah—speaking of grandchildren."

Naomi turned, seeing two figures approaching from behind—a man and a girl. The man looked like he was in his twenties, his hair pitch black and his skin a healthy tan. The girl looked much younger, the same age as Artemis appeared, and her hair was white, her skin pale.

"Hello, Grandmother," the man said, kissing Demeter's cheek.

"It's good to see you again," the little girl said, her voice as soft as a gentle breeze.

Demeter smiled. "It's always lovely to see you two," she said. "At least you still visit—unlike your sister."

The man smiled in amusement. "Melinoe sends her regards."

Demeter huffed. "I'm sure she does." She placed a calloused hand on Naomi's shoulder. "Naomi, dear, this is Zagreus and Macaria."

"A pleasure to finally meet you, sister," Zagreus said, smiling at Naomi.

"Yes," Macaria agreed, offering Naomi a smaller, but just as kind smile. "A true pleasure."

The music shifted. Naomi wasn't sure what anyone else heard, but to her, a slow, optimistic song began to play.

Zagreus smiled. "Care to dance, little sister?"

Naomi blinked, surprised. "Um... sure?"

She let him take her hand and pull her onto the dance floor.

Naomi was a bit nervous to ask, but as they danced, she figured it couldn't hurt. "Why didn't Lord Hades come to the council meeting?"

Zagreus's otherwise consistent smile faltered just a little. He lifted her hand and spun her, as if to give him a moment to collect himself. "He is... dealing with other matters, at the moment."

"I went to the Underworld in a dream a few days ago," Naomi said softly. "He and my mother were arguing... do you know why?"

Zagreus sighed softly. "I've been forbidden to speak of it," he admitted. "Even to you. But, I assure you, it has nothing to do with you. That fight is mostly over."

Naomi wasn't sure if that made her feel better or just more confused. She decided on the latter.

"Don't worry about our parents," Zagreus told her. "Their fights never last. They love each other too much to remain at odds. Sometimes I wished they loved each other a little less—do you know how uncomfortable it is to eat dinner with your family when your parents keep playing footsies under the table and you keep getting caught in it? It's weird."

Naomi laughed, which seemed to be what Zagreus was aiming for. It was hard to imagine the king and queen of the Underworld playing footsies, but the idea was as hilarious as it was disturbing.

The song came to an end, and Zagreus stopped. His gaze settled on something behind Naomi, and one corner of his mouth tilted up even more. "I believe someone else wants to dance."

Naomi turned, smiling at the sight of Annabeth walking toward them. She looked a bit warily at Zagreus, but he offered her a friendly smile.

He looked back at Naomi. "Until next time, Naomi Murphy."

"Sakura," Naomi corrected softly. "Naomi Sakura."

"Apologies," Zagreus said. "Until next time, Naomi Sakura."

He nodded a goodbye before going to join a conversation between a bunch of godlings who looked around his age.

"Who was that?" Annabeth asked.

"My brother, apparently," Naomi said. "Zagreus."

"Oh." Annabeth smiled. "We kind of got interrupted at Westover, didn't we?"

Naomi's cheeks grew warm, but she blamed the party atmosphere. "We kind of did," she agreed.

This time, she offered Annabeth her hand without hesitation.

Naomi wasn't sure what Annabeth heard, but as the music changed again, she heard a guitar strumming slowly, and a voice singing of summertime and regrets and love they hadn't gotten the chance to speak of. It was a slow rhythm, like the beating of a heart, picking up every so often.

They danced, and the gods of Olympus seemed to fade away. The lights reflected off of Annabeth's eyes, turning them into stars.

"You were so still." Annabeth's voice was quieter than a whisper, but Naomi still heard it. "On Mount Tam, after Atlas..." Her voice caught. She reached for Naomi's face, tracing a line from her temple to the corner of her mouth—the path of her new scar.

"Does it look as gruesome as it felt?" Naomi asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Annabeth's lips turned up just a bit, but her eyes were still sad. "It's silver," she said quietly. "Artemis's magic, I guess."

Naomi's eyes fell on the streak of silver in Annabeth's hair—a consequence of holding the sky; a reminder of the strength she'd shown.

Maybe Naomi's scar was the same—a reminder.

Annabeth's smile faded. "We thought you were gone, Nay," she whispered, her voice catching again.

Softly, Naomi admitted, "So did I."

Annabeth's hand tightened around Naomi's as the instrumentals in the song faded to just a few strings being plucked, the voice still singing softly. "I'm glad you weren't," she whispered.

"Me too."

Annabeth pulled her closer, and Naomi leaned her head on her shoulder, letting the music wash over them.

By the time the song ended, Naomi's heart felt like a bird, flying effortlessly on the wind.

"Do I get a dance this time?"

Annabeth laughed as they looked up to see Percy, and a tightness Naomi hadn't even noticed in her chest loosened. Percy's eyes held nervousness, like he'd just had his own brush with death, but a smile tugged at his lips.

"Come on, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth said, letting go of Naomi's hand to offer hers to Percy. "Let's see your moves."

Naomi walked away, her smile unwavering as the two started dancing to whatever song they heard—maybe the same one Naomi heard, or a different one entirely.

Naomi looked away, up at the star-studded ceiling. Zoë's constellation gleamed against the dark blue sky.

Naomi looked back at her best friends, watching them smile at each other, coming together like two magnets finally unimpeded by distance or barricades.

Maybe Zoë had been right—maybe Percy would break Naomi's heart. He was fully capable of it. Not because he was cruel or because her heart was fragile—but because, somewhere along the way, he'd taken a piece of it, and left a mark behind. Now, it was his to break.

But it wasn't just his. As confusing and frightening and unexplainable as it was, Annabeth had taken a piece of Naomi's heart, too.

When Naomi hadn't been paying attention, they'd stolen into her heart and made a home there. Maybe she'd opened the door for them, invited them inside. Or maybe they'd snuck up on her. She wasn't quite sure which it was, though she knew it didn't really matter.

They could break her heart so easily, and she would let them. They could break it together or one-by-one; on purpose or completely by accident. That was what love was, in the end—giving people the power to make or break you, and hoping you survived intact.

Naomi should have been afraid. Maybe part of her was. But a bigger, louder part couldn't be scared.

Not of loving Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase.

Compared to Mount Olympus, Manhattan was quiet. It was the Friday before Christmas, but it was early in the morning, and hardly anyone was on Fifth Avenue. Argus picked up Naomi, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy at the Empire State Building and ferried them back to camp through a light snowstorm. The Long Island Expressway was almost deserted.

As they trudged back up Half-Blood Hill to the pine tree where the Golden Fleece glittered, Naomi half expected to see Thalia there, waiting for them. But she wasn't. She was long gone with Artemis and the rest of the Hunters, off on their next adventure.

Chiron greeted them at the Big House with hot chocolate and toasted cheese sandwiches. Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about their strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within the hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.

Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy sat with Chiron and some of the other senior campers—Beckendorf, the Stolls, Miranda. Silena fussed over Naomi like a mother hen, especially when she heard about what happened on Mount Tam.

Clarisse was back from her scouting mission. It must've been rough, because she didn't even try to pulverize Percy. She had a new scar on her chin, and her dirty blonde hair had been cut short and ragged, like someone had attacked it with a pair of safety scissors.

"I got news," she mumbled uneasily. "Bad news."

"I'll fill you in later," Chiron promised Percy with forced cheerfulness. "The important thing is you have prevailed. And you saved Annabeth!"

Annabeth smiled at Naomi and Percy gratefully, which most certainly did not send off another horde of butterflies in Naomi's stomach.

(Who was she kidding anymore? Of course it did.)

"Luke is alive," Percy said, which swiftly killed the butterflies. "Annabeth was right."

Annabeth sat up. "How do you know?"

Percy told them what Poseidon had told him about the Princess Andromeda.

"Well." Annabeth shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "If the final battle does come when Percy is seventeen, at least we have two more years to figure something out."

Chiron's expression was gloomy. Sitting by the fire in his wheelchair, he looked almost as old as he truly was.

"Two years may seem like a long time," he said. "But it is the blink of an eye. I still hope you are not the child of the prophecy, Percy. But, if you are, then the second Titan war is almost upon us. Kronos's first strike will be here."

"How do you know?" Percy asked. "Why would he care about camp?"

"Because the gods use heroes as their tools," Chiron said simply. "Destroy the tools, and the gods will be crippled. Luke's forces will come here. Mortal, demigod, monstrous... We must be prepared. Clarisse's news may give us a clue as to how they will attack, but—"

There was a knock on the door, and Nico di Angelo came huffing into the parlor, his cheeks bright red from the cold.

He was smiling, but he looked around anxiously. "Hey! Where's... where's my sister?"

Dead silence. Naomi looked at Chiron.

No one had told him. They'd been waiting for them, so they could tell Nico in person.

Naomi's hand flitted to the small lump in her pocket, out of sight. Percy touched her arm, and she met his eyes, and the tiniest amount of the weight that had suddenly settled over her shoulders disappeared.

She wouldn't have to tell Nico alone.

"Hey, Nico." Naomi got up, and Percy followed. "Let's take a walk, okay? We need to talk."

He took the news in silence, which somehow made it worse. Naomi tried to explain it as best as she could—how it had happened, how Bianca had sacrificed herself for the quest. But it just felt like she was making everything worse.

She reached into her pocket. "She... she wanted you to have this."

He took the Mythomagic figurine from her hand, and just stared at it.

They were standing at the dining pavilion. The wind was bitterly cold, even with the camp's magical weather protection. Snow fell lightly against the marble steps. Outside of the camp borders must have been a blizzard.

Nico finally looked up, right at Percy. "You promised you would protect her."

Percy looked like he'd been stabbed. "Nico," he said. "I tried. But Bianca gave herself up to save the rest of us. I told her not to. But she—"

"You promised!"

He glared at Percy, his eyes rimmed with red. He closed his small fist around the god statue.

"I shouldn't have trusted you." His voice broke. "You lied to me. My nightmares were right!"

"Wait. What nightmares?" Percy asked.

Nico flung the god statue to the ground. It clattered against the icy marble. "I hate you!"

"She might be alive," Percy said desperately. "We don't know for sure—"

Before Naomi could stop him, Nico did it for her. "She's dead." He closed his eyes. His whole body trembled with rage. "I should've known earlier. She's in the Fields of Asphodel, standing before the judges right now, being evaluated. I can feel it."

Naomi's heart stopped. "What do you mean, you can feel it?"

Before he could answer, Naomi heard a new sound behind her. A hissing, clattering noise she recognized all too well.

Naomi summoned Hemlock and Nico gasped. She and Percy whirled and found themselves facing four skeleton warriors. They grinned fleshless grins and advanced with swords drawn. Naomi wasn't sure how they'd made it inside camp, but it didn't matter.

Naomi planted herself in front of Percy and Nico. "Get him out of here."

"You can't take them all by yourself!" Percy protested.

"You're trying to kill me!" Nico screamed. "You brought these... these things?"

"Nico, no!" Naomi said. "I mean, yeah, they followed us, but no! Nico, run. They can only be destroyed by a child of the Underworld."

"I don't trust you!"

The first skeleton charged. Naomi knocked aside its blade, trying to get a clean shot, but the other three swarmed her. Percy sliced one of them in half, but it immediately began to knit itself back together.

"Nico, run!" Naomi yelled. "Get help!"

"No!" He pressed his hands to his ears.

Naomi couldn't move as fast or as nimbly as she could before, not with her side still aching every time she twisted. The skeletons had learned how to dodge away from her, distracting her while they tried to overpower Percy, who couldn't kill them like she could.

"No!" Nico shouted louder. "GO AWAY!"

The ground rumbled beneath Naomi's feet. The skeletons froze. Naomi and Percy rolled out of the way just as a crack opened at the feet of the four warriors. The ground ripped apart like a snapping mouth. Flames erupted from the fissure, and the earth swallowed the skeletons in one loud CRUNCH!

Silence followed.

In the place where the skeletons had stood, a twenty-foot-long scar wove across the marble floor of the pavilion. Other than that, there was no sign of the warriors.

Awestruck, Naomi looked at Nico.

"How did you—" Percy started.

"Go away!" he yelled. "I hate you! I wish you were dead!"

Nico ran, down the steps, toward the forest.

"Nico, wait!" Naomi screamed. "It's not safe!"

But he disappeared into the forest, the shadows within bringing him into their fold until Naomi couldn't see him anymore.

Naomi took a step, kicking something on the ground. She bent, picking up the god statue Bianca had retrieved from the junkyard for Nico.

The only statue he didn't have, she'd said. A last gift from his sister.

Naomi stared at it in dread, because now she knew which god it was. She knew what the argument she'd seen in the Underworld was about; why the thirteenth member of the Council had been missing on the one day he was permitted to come to Olympus.

She knew who Nico and Bianca's godly parent was.

Hades, the Lord of the Dead.

Chapter 63: xxi. an open wound

Chapter Text

ANNABETH AND GROVER HELPED Percy and Naomi search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.

"We have to tell Chiron," Annabeth said, out of breath.

"No," Naomi said.

Annabeth and Grover stared at her.

"Um," Grover said nervously, "what do you mean... no?"

"We can't let anyone know," she said, the words spilling out of her. "I don't think anyone realizes that Nico is a—"

"A son of Hades," Annabeth said. "Naomi, do you have any idea how serious this is? Even Hades broke the oath! This is horrible."

Percy shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "I don't think Hades broke the oath."

"What?"

"He's their dad," Percy said, "but Bianca and Nico have been out of commission for a long time, since even before World War II."

"The Lotus Casino!" Grover said, and he told Annabeth about the conversations they'd had with Bianca on the quest. "She and Nico were stuck there for decades. They were born before the oath was made."

Percy nodded.

"But how did they get out?" Annabeth protested.

"I don't know," Percy admitted. "Bianca said a lawyer came and got them and drove them to Westover Hall. I don't know who that could've been, or why. Maybe it's part of this Great Stirring thing. I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—"

"It might start them fighting among each other again," Annabeth said. "That's the last thing we need."

Grover looked worried. "But you can't hide things from the gods. Not forever."

"I don't need forever," Percy said. "Just two years. Until I'm seventeen."

Annabeth paled. "But, Percy, this means the prophecy might not be about you. It might be about Nico. We have to—"

"No," Percy said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me."

"Why are you saying that?" Annabeth cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?"

"I can't let Nico be in any more danger," Percy said. "I owe that much to his sister. I... I let them both down."

"We'll find him," Naomi said, her tone unwavering. "I'll find him. He—" She swallowed. "He's family. I promised Bianca I'd look out for him—that's what I'm going to do."

"We can hide him somewhere safe until the war is over," Percy suggested.

Annabeth shivered. "If Luke gets hold of him..."

"Luke won't," Percy said, squaring his shoulders. "I'll make sure he's got other things to worry about. Namely, me."

Naomi wasn't sure Chiron believed the story they told him. He could probably tell they were holding something back about Nico's disappearance, but in the end, he accepted it. Unfortunately, Nico wasn't the first half-blood to disappear.

(There was still no sign of Ethan, and Naomi tried not to assume the worst.)

"So young," Chiron sighed, his hands on the rail of the front porch. "Alas, I hope he was eaten by monsters. Much better than being recruited into the Titans' army."

Just the idea made Naomi feel sick.

"You really think the first attack will be here?" Percy asked.

Chiron stared at the snow falling on the hills. Naomi could see smoke from Peleus at the pine tree, the glitter of the distant Fleece.

"It will not be until summer, at least," Chiron said. "This winter will be hard... the hardest for many centuries. It's best that you go home to the city, Percy; try to keep your mind on school. And rest. You will need rest."

Percy looked at Annabeth. "What about you?"

Her cheeks flushed. "I'm going to try San Francisco after all. Maybe I can keep an eye on Mount Tam, make sure the Titans don't try anything else."

"You'll send an Iris-message if anything goes wrong?" Naomi asked.

Annabeth nodded. "But I think Chiron's right. It won't be until the summer. Luke will need time to regain his strength."

"All right," Percy said. "Just take care of yourself. And no crazy stunts in the Sopwith Camel."

She smiled tentatively. "Deal. And—"

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by Grover, who stumbled out of the Big House, tripping over tin cans. His face was haggard and pale, like he'd seen a ghost.

"He spoke!" Grover cried.

"Calm down, my young satyr," Chiron said, frowning. "What is the matter?"

"I... I was playing music in the parlor," he stammered, "and drinking coffee. Lots and lots of coffee! And he spoke in my mind!"

"Who?" Annabeth demanded.

"Pan!" Grover wailed. "The Lord of the Wild himself. I heard him! I have to... I have to find a suitcase."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Percy said. "What did he say?"

Grover stared at him. "Just three words. He said, 'I await you...'"

As her friends began to pack so they could head back out into the mortal world for the rest of the school year, Naomi went into the forest to look around for a little while longer.

A few minutes into her search, Skia found her.

Despite the storm of emotions she'd been dealing with since waking up from her meeting with Death, Naomi couldn't help but smile at the sight of her favorite hellhound. She wasn't necessarily surprised to see her—she'd summoned her the winter after Persephone claimed her, just to see if she could (with Chiron's permission, of course). Skia had come in from the shadows, the way she usually traveled. Since then, she'd been able to come and go in the camp whenever she pleased. It wasn't that often, but every time she came, Naomi was happy to see her.

"Hey, girl," she said, petting a hand through the fur on the top of Skia's head.

Skia barked, but the sound was strangely muffled. Something small dropped onto Naomi's foot, and then Skia licked her face.

Naomi grimaced. "Thanks for that." She bent down, picking up the small pouch Skia had dropped onto the forest floor. "Where'd you get this, girl?"

Skia barked, but unfortunately, Naomi didn't speak hellhound.

It was a small, velvet bag with a drawstring. She opened it, shaking out the contents into her palm—a folded piece of paper and a pitch black ring.

Naomi read the note first: Stygian Iron, the neat handwriting said. Use with caution.

Naomi frowned, tucking the note back into the bag and the bag into her pocket. She studied the black ring. It was identical to Hemlock, save for the color, and was icy to the touch, which Naomi suspected had nothing to do with the winter weather.

She slipped it onto her left ring finger and stepped away from Skia, clenching her hand into a fist.

A sword the same shape and size as Hemlock sprang to life in her hand, as black as the ring it had come from. The metal glowed a strange purple color, tinging Skia's black fur violet in its light.

She read the engraving on the hilt.

Asphodel.

Naomi willed it back into a ring. Quietly, she said, "Thanks, Mom."

She pet Skia's fur again, her old worries coming back as the novelty of the gift and Skia's visit wore off. "You haven't seen a little kid running around here, have you?"

Skia just stared at her with her big red eyes.

"I figured," Naomi sighed. "Want to help me look?"

The hellhound barked what Naomi guessed was an affirmative.

"Let's go, then."

Naomi and Skia walked through the forest, looking for any sign of the wayward half-blood.

The one they ended up finding wasn't Nico, though.

"Ethan!" As soon Naomi spotted him, the worry and dread she'd felt all day was swept aside, replaced with pure relief at the sight of him. She threw her arms around him, almost knocking them both to the ground. "You're okay!"

"Yeah," he said quietly, his arms moving slowly as he hugged her back. "I'm okay."

Naomi pulled away, studying his face for any sign of injury. "Drew said you just disappeared. Everyone thought something happened to you! We were so worried."

"Nothing happened to me," he said, his voice still quiet. "I'm okay."

Behind Naomi, Skia growled. Ethan jumped at the sound, and Naomi frowned at the hellhound.

"Skia, it's my friend," she said, placating the beast. "It's okay." She looked back at Ethan. "We have to tell Chiron, and Drew—she'll be so relieved. Everyone will be. Come on!"

She reached for his hand, but he pulled it out of her reach.

Naomi's smile wavered. "Ethan?"

"You never asked me how I lost my eye."

It was the last thing Naomi had expected him to say. Her smile faded all the way, a confused frown taking its place. "I didn't think you wanted to talk about it."

"My mother took it," he told her. "The first time I met her."

"Wha—your mom did that to you?" Naomi asked, shocked. "Why?"

"Nemesis is the goddess of balance," he said. "She offered me a chance to restore it—to bring balance to the world."

Naomi studied his face, but his expression was blank. His one good eye gave nothing away, which frightened her—Ethan rarely hid himself from her. He had always been a relatively open book, but now, it was as if he'd slammed the book shut and sealed it with a lock and key.

"What are you talking about?" Naomi asked.

"I didn't know what she meant," Ethan said. "Not until recently."

Skia growled again, the sound raising goosebumps across Naomi's skin. She made to move toward Ethan, but Naomi ordered, "Skia, don't."

She looked back at Ethan. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "What happened to you?"

"My mother doesn't have a cabin at camp," he whispered. "Neither does yours. They don't have cabins, they don't have thrones—the Olympians treat them like they're nothing. They treat us like we're nothing. That's not balance."

Something heavy settled in her stomach—not like it had before Bianca died, or before the fight on Mount Tamalpais. This was something more familiar than that.

Naomi took a step back, closer to Skia, but Ethan stepped forward, maintaining the distance.

"Ethan," she said slowly, quietly. "What did you do?"

"The right thing," Ethan told her. "The right thing for all of us—for every child of every minor god the Olympians never gave a second glance at."

That something in her stomach blossomed into an unforgiving storm as understanding trickled in like acid rain. "Tell me you didn't," she breathed, taking another step back. "Tell me you didn't join them."

Ethan came two steps closer. "We both can," he said. "We can make sure our mothers get the respect they deserve. We'll make the Olympians pay for treating us like we're nothing. We'll prove we're more." He touched her cheek, and it was too affectionate for Naomi to take. "We can bring balance to the world."

Naomi took another step away from him, her back brushing Skia's fur. "Not like this," she said. "Kronos isn't going to bring balance to the world, Ethan, he's going to destroy it!"

"And make a new one!" Ethan insisted. "A better one! One without a king who blames everyone else for the way the world is, without a council of arrogant gods who only care about themselves!"

"He'll tear everything apart!"

"Good!" Ethan shouted. "The ruins will be better than anything the Olympians ever built."

"Ethan, don't do this," Naomi begged. "It isn't too late. We'll pretend this never happened. We can—"

Ethan shook his head. "No," he said. "No. I'm not going to stay in that cramped cabin with two dozen other forgotten half-bloods! I'm not going to rot here when I can thrive there. I'm done."

"Ethan, please." Naomi's vision was blurry, but she didn't care. Ethan had seen her cry before—this wasn't anything new.

But it was, wasn't it? All the times he'd seen her cry before—they'd never been because of him. Not like this.

"Please," she pleaded.

"Come with me," he whispered. "We'll prove them all wrong. We'll make the world a better place."

"Ethan, Atlas almost killed me," Naomi hissed, her voice cracking with emotion. "How could you ask me to join his side?"

Ethan frowned—not in anger or even sadness, but in confusion. "He wasn't supposed to do that," he said, almost to himself. "Luke was clear that you weren't supposed to be hurt."

"And you believed him? After everything he's done?" Naomi almost seethed.

"Everything he's done, he's done for us," Ethan said. "For every hero the gods forgot or ignored. He's doing this for us."

"He's doing it for himself, Ethan!" Naomi argued. "He's mad at the gods!"

"He should be!" Ethan said. "What have the gods ever done for us?"

"Ethan, you can't do this," Naomi insisted. "You're making a mistake."

"You're making one by staying here," Ethan said. "The Olympians don't care about you, Naomi—they hardly even care about their own kids."

"I don't care!" Naomi shouted. "I won't turn on my friends!"

"I'm your friend!"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "Not anymore. Not if you do this."

"If you don't join him, he won't let you join them," Ethan insisted. "You have to come with me."

He grasped for her arm, but all he caught was air as she pulled away.

"I won't be their weapon," Naomi seethed.

"Naomi, please," Ethan pleaded. "He'll kill you—you either join him or you die. I don't want you to get hurt! You have to—"

"I don't have to do anything!" Naomi shouted, tears falling down her cheeks. "And I won't do that."

Ethan's face shifted, for just a moment, from worried to fearful. He looked... panicked.

"I'm sorry, Naomi," he said. "But you have to come with me."

Naomi opened her mouth to respond, but he grabbed her arm, faster than she'd ever seen him move before.

Skia snarled, and Naomi knew she would kill Ethan if she got the chance. As betrayed as she felt, she couldn't let Skia tear him apart. She would never forgive herself.

"Skia, stand down!" Naomi ordered, trying to wrench her arm out of Ethan's hold herself. But she was weak, exhausted from searching for Nico, from her battle with Atlas, from the quest as a whole.

What happened next was... difficult to explain. It wasn't a conscious decision. Naomi didn't mean to do it—she didn't even know how she did it.

But in the darkness of the night, with nothing but shadows around them, her skin prickled with goosebumps, and she felt a familiar tug in her gut.

Without thinking, Naomi shot her free arm out, slashing it through the air.

A ribbon of pure black shadow materialized and followed the motion, like a whip snapping.

Ethan let out a startled, pained yelp, his hand falling from her arm. He stumbled back a step, and even in the darkness, Naomi saw something drip from his forearm onto the dead leaves at his feet.

Blood.

She'd cut him.

For a moment, it was completely quiet. No tree branches rustled in the cold wind that Naomi could feel on her exposed skin. No animals chattered or scuttled about in the night.

All was silent.

Ethan's eye was wide as he looked from the fresh cut on his arm, back to Naomi.

"How did you do that?" he asked, his voice breathless.

Naomi didn't speak—not because she didn't want to answer, but because she couldn't. What she'd just done, she didn't even understand herself.

Her heart thundered like an offbeat drum, but her voice was steady when she finally spoke. "It's your turn to make a choice, Ethan." She looked him in the eye, praying to all the gods he would make the right one. "Your friends? Or the end of the world?"

He stared at her for so long, she almost convinced herself that she'd brought him back from the edge—that they'd walk back into camp together, forget this ever happened, and go on with their lives like Ethan hadn't just sided with the enemy.

Then his eye hardened like stone, and Naomi knew she'd lost him for good.

"I'm sorry, Nay," he said, but there was no more apology in his voice. "But I'm done rotting."

He turned away, but he didn't run. No—he walked, his pace slow and steady.

Naomi wondered if he was waiting for her to chase him. She should—she should try again to bring him back. Maybe he wanted her to. Maybe one more word would save him from the edge he'd walked himself to.

But her feet wouldn't move, and she wasn't sure she wanted them to.

She watched him disappear, and then he was long gone, the forest was once again still.

Naomi wasn't sure how long she stood there, staring at the darkness he had disappeared into, before she fell to her knees, the tears falling like blood from an open wound.

Chapter 64: xxii. constants

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

WHEN PERCY AND ANNABETH FOUND HER, the sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon.

"Naomi!" Annabeth broke into a run as soon as she spotted her, Percy half a second behind.

Skia, who'd curled around Naomi moments after she fell and stayed there the whole night, watched them, standing slowly so they could take up post on either side of the girl, her face still buried between her knees.

The tears had slowed, but they still trickled down her cheeks.

"Have you been out here all night?" Annabeth asked frantically. "It's freezing."

Percy pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "What are you doing out here?"

Naomi's voice sounded raw to her own ears as she said, "Ethan's gone."

Annabeth's eyes were soft with sympathy. "I heard. But I'm sure he's okay."

Naomi shook her head. "He joined Kronos," she croaked. "He came back to try to get me to come with him."

"He was here?" Percy asked. "Did he hurt you?"

Naomi shook her head again, her throat tightening as her tears picked up again. "He was my friend," she said, her voice a whimper. "And he's gone, and Nico's gone, and Bianca and Zoë are dead, and my dad's been dead the whole time, and I can't—"

She was full-on sobbing again, but she couldn't find the energy to be embarrassed, not in front of the two people she loved most, not after everything she'd lost in such a short period of time.

Arms wrapped around her and pulled her against a chest, and she buried her face against Percy's neck, her body shaking with her cries. She felt a hand on her back, heard murmured whispers of we're here, we've got you, we've got you, we've got you—

That only made her cry harder.

She'd always been quick to cry as a kid, but she'd started to get over it since coming to camp. It wasn't like she'd turned off her emotions or anything, but when the world wasn't as dark as it used to seem, it was harder to cry over the little things.

It was kind of ironic, that a world full of monsters and temperamental gods was better in Naomi's eyes than the world of nuns and private schools.

She didn't know how long she cried for before her tears finally dried up. The sun was past the horizon now, lighting the world in gentle hues of yellow. She was sure some of the campers were already out and about.

Her face was hot with embarrassment as she pulled away from Percy, unable to look him or Annabeth in the eye. "Sorry," she mumbled.

"You don't have to apologize," Annabeth said softly. "You've been through a lot."

Naomi sniffled. "I have to go tell Drew. And Chiron—"

"Don't worry about that," Percy told her. "We'll tell Chiron."

"Thanks," Naomi whispered.

Annabeth helped Naomi to her feet. Skia was gone, but Naomi knew she'd come back when called.

For now, though, Naomi had to talk to Drew.

Drew was silent for a good five minutes after Naomi told her. Her expression was blank, but Naomi could see the conflicting emotions swimming in her eyes—disbelief, confusion, anger, heartbreak.

Silena sat on the porch step above the two girls, her expression solemn as she bore witness to Naomi and Drew realizing they'd lost their closest friend. She'd sent Lacy to the arts and crafts building to join the Apollo kids when she'd noticed Naomi's crestfallen expression. Lacy would find out eventually, when the rest of the camp did, but for now, Naomi could only bear to tell Silena and Drew.

When Drew finally spoke, her voice was stone. "I'll kill him."

"Drew," Silena said, her voice soft.

"I mean it," Drew said. "If I ever see him again, I'll kill him. He's a traitor."

Naomi felt like there was a rock stuck in her throat, and she wasn't sure it would ever go down.

"How could he do this?" Drew asked. "How could he just turn his back on us? For his mom? He met her once, and she took his fucking eye! How could he choose her over the people who actually care about him?" Her eyes glistened with tears, but Naomi knew she wouldn't let them fall, not now—not until she was sure she was alone, where no one could witness her sorrow.

"Maybe he thinks he's doing the right thing," Silena suggested gently.

"The 'right thing' is abandoning his friends?" Drew seethed. "That's bullshit! If that's the 'right thing' then fuck doing the right thing."

"Drew—" Silena started to say, but Drew wouldn't hear anything more. She stood up, storming into Cabin Ten and slamming the door so hard the cabin shook.

Silena looked at Naomi, and whatever she saw in her face made her shoulders sag with grief. She held out her arms. "Come here."

Naomi was fairly sure she was out of tears for now, but she went into Silena's arms, letting the older girl wrap her in a warm embrace. She knew Silena couldn't protect her from the world, no matter how hard she might try, but at the moment, Naomi let herself believe that Silena's arms were a shield, keeping tragedy at bay, even if it was only for a moment.

Silena ran a hand over Naomi's hair. "It's going to be okay," she whispered. "Everything's going to be okay."

Naomi wasn't sure if she believed them, or even if Silena did, but the words were still nice to hear.

When she walked into her cabin, her bunk was occupied by two duffel bags and a Percy.

Naomi frowned, confused. "I thought you were going home."

"I am," he said. "And you're coming with me."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I already cleared it with Chiron, and Miranda packed your bag," Percy told her. "Plus my mom already hung your stocking up, so if I don't bring you home, she'll be extremely disappointed."

He stood up, holding his hand out. "You're not spending Christmas alone," he said. "Not after this past week. Not if I can help it."

Naomi looked at his hand, some of the darkness in her mind ebbing.

After everything she'd lost recently, at least there were some constants.

She put her hand in his, and let him take her home for Christmas.

Notes:

END OF ACT THREE

Chapter 65: ACT FOUR: The Battle of the Labyrinth

Chapter Text

"ἀνερρίφθω κύβος

(let the die be cast)"

― plutarch

Chapter 66: i. naomi gets hit on

Chapter Text

NAOMI'S LIP WAS BLEEDING. Her arm, too. And maybe her side, though she couldn't decide if that was actually blood or just sweat. Either way, she paid it little mind.

She had other matters to focus on.

Anticipating the strike a second before it came, Naomi raised Hemlock to block the blade, shoving Asphodel into the body of the training automaton and yanking it out just as quickly, kicking the machine away and raising Asphodel over her head to block another strike from the second automaton. A third came from behind, forcing her to raise Hemlock to block that sword as well.

After a moment of careful consideration, she withdrew her swords and spun on her heel out of the way, slicing through the body of one automaton as its initial strike hit the other, both of them deactivating at the fatal hits.

A fourth came, but Naomi made quick work of that one, too, slashing its chest with Asphodel. The fifth didn't stand a chance, taking a slice from Hemlock to the face.

"Oh, c'mon, not the face!"

Breathing heavily, Naomi lowered her swords. "Sorry, Beckendorf."

The son of Hephaestus fussed over the scarred automaton. "Are you done now?"

Naomi shook her head, wiping her sweaty face with her t-shirt. "One more round."

Beckendorf looked back at her, his expression torn between worry and annoyance. "You said that five rounds ago. Maybe it's time to take a breather."

"I'm breathing now," Naomi said. She touched her side and looked down—yep, definitely not sweat. She wiped the blood on her already dirty shorts. "I have to keep training. I'm still having trouble guarding my left side properly."

"You're gonna kill yourself training this hard, Nay," Beckendorf said. "Take the rest of the day off. I heard someone made sweet tea at the Big House."

"One more round," she insisted. "Then I'll take a break."

"Silena would tell you to take a break now," Beckendorf said.

"Well, Silena's not here right now, is she?"

Beckendorf sighed. "Wish she was," he mumbled. "At least you listen to her."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Reactivate the automatons—please."

Beckendorf didn't look happy about it, but he did as she requested.

"Last round," he told her as the automatons whirred to life. "Seriously."

Naomi nodded, already shifting her focus back to the fight.

Three of the five automatons were down by the time Silena walked into the training arena.

She huffed in frustration. "How many rounds is this?" she asked Beckendorf.

He hesitated. "Twenty," he mumbled.

Naomi saw Silena narrow her eyes at him in the corner of her vision. Naomi disarmed the fourth automaton and slashed its neck as Silena said, "You let her get to twenty rounds? She's gonna pass out from exhaustion."

"I'm fine!" Naomi protested as the final automaton grabbed her in a chokehold, all three of their swords on the ground. She gripped the machine's metal arm and dropped to one knee, leaning forward and flipping it over her shoulder. She grabbed Asphodel and slashed its chest in a killing blow. "Let's go again."

"Oh, absolutely not!" Silena said. "You skipped lunch."

"I was training," Naomi argued, grabbing Hemlock off of the ground.

Silena sighed in aggravation. "Talk to her," she said, though Naomi didn't see who she was talking to, her back still to the arena door.

"Are you trying to pass out from exhaustion?"

Naomi turned at the sound of Annabeth's voice. The blonde was looking at her with a disappointed expression, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm fine," Naomi insisted.

"You've been training for three hours straight," Silena grumbled. "And you stink."

Naomi scowled at her. "I do not. I always smell like flowers."

"Sweaty flowers."

Annabeth frowned at Naomi. "Three hours? And you skipped lunch? You're going to hurt yourself, Nay."

"I haven't died yet," Naomi said.

"That's the bar you're setting?" Annabeth asked incredulously.

Silena rolled her eyes. "I should've made Percy and Sally keep her for the school year."

Naomi glared at the daughter of Aphrodite. "I haven't been that bad."

"You broke twelve automatons!" Beckendorf protested.

"They were already faulty, you told me yourself!" Naomi argued.

"That doesn't mean you had to turn them into scrap metal!"

"Okay, you're done for the day," Annabeth declared.

"Annie," Naomi whined like a petulant child.

"Don't you Annie me, Nay," Annabeth said. "You're going to go take a shower, meet me at the Big House, eat something, and then we're going to go meet Percy in the city. Or did you forget we had plans?"

Naomi opened her mouth, but it took a moment for her to get out, "I didn't forget."

Annabeth gave her an unimpressed look.

"... I may have forgotten," Naomi admitted sheepishly.

"Mm-hmm," Annabeth said. "Shower. Now."

Naomi huffed. "Fine."

After showering off the blood, sweat, and motor oil that had gotten on her during training, Naomi changed and met Annabeth at the Big House. The blonde shoved three chocolate chip toaster waffles at Naomi and shooed her into the camp van so Argus could drive them to the nearest bus stop.

By the time they reached the stop and Naomi's waffles were finished, she was considerably less grouchy. Funny how that worked.

As they settled into their bus seats (pointedly avoiding the group of high school boys who huddled together like a pack of hyenas), Annabeth asked, "Any word on Nico?"

Naomi sighed, picking at her fingers. "None."

Annabeth reached over, taking one of Naomi's fidgeting hands. "We'll find him," she murmured. "He has to be out there somewhere."

She was probably right. Naomi was about eighty percent sure she'd be able to feel if Nico was dead, the same way she'd felt when Bianca died, and she held onto the hope that he was okay wherever he was.

Well, as safe as an orphan child of Hades could be, Naomi supposed.

"Any updates on Chris?" Naomi asked.

Annabeth sighed. "He still isn't doing well. He attacked Clarisse yesterday when she went to see him."

Naomi chewed on her lip. "Do you think he's ever going to be okay?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.

"I don't know," Annabeth admitted. "Whatever he saw in there... it must have been awful."

Naomi fought a shudder. She hated thinking about the situation with Clarisse; she hated the memory of Chris's haunted eyes the one time she'd gone to see him (unsurprisingly, he hadn't recognized her—he barely recognized Clarisse on his good days, which were few and far between). She hated that the war was already taking people out, even before the first official battle.

"Did you hear Chiron's hiring a new swords-master?" Naomi asked, hoping to shift to a lighter subject.

Annabeth nodded. "I don't know anything about him, but if Chiron hired him, he must be good enough to help us. We're going to need all the training we can get. Excluding you, apparently."

"Silena was just exaggerating," Naomi said.

"I doubt that," Annabeth said. "You can't wear yourself out training like that. You could get hurt."

"I have to practice," Naomi insisted. "I'm still getting used to dual-wielding, and there's no one at camp to train me personally. Clarisse's been helping, but her specialty's her spear. After Mount Tam..." Naomi's jaw ticked. "I can't be caught off-guard like that again."

"You weren't caught off-guard," Annabeth told her gently. "You fought a Titan. The fact that you survived is a miracle."

"There'll be more Titans to fight," Naomi murmured. "I'm pretty sure I've reached my cap on miracles—I have to train if I want to survive."

Annabeth looked at her, studying her in worried silence. "Just... don't kill yourself training," she said quietly. "I'm worried about you, Naomi."

"You don't need to be," Naomi insisted. "Honest."

Annabeth didn't seem to believe her, but she conceded with a sigh, leaning her head on Naomi's shoulder.

The bus drove on in a slow crawl, the typical Manhattan traffic giving Naomi a chance to take in the city. It was hard to believe that it had been three years since she'd called it her home. She could still remember the scared thirteen-year-old cowering in an alleyway, facing a Cyclops before she even knew what a Cyclops was.

"Oh no," Annabeth mumbled, lifting her head from Naomi's shoulder.

"What?" Naomi asked. "Monster?"

"Worse," Annabeth muttered.

Naomi followed her gaze to the group of high school boys, who seemed to be jostling one in particular around, pushing him in Naomi and Annabeth's direction. The pushed boy's face was red with embarrassment, but at something one of the other boys said, he glared and then turned in Naomi and Annabeth's direction, his expression morphing into nervousness.

Naomi was more than a little confused as he started making his way toward them.

"Hi," he greeted politely, offering Naomi a nervous smile.

Naomi tried not to frown in confusion. "...Hi?"

"I'm Logan."

"I'm... Naomi."

"I, um..." Logan looked back at his friends, who were all watching him with various grins and thumbs-up. He glared at them again, then returned his attention to Naomi. "I was wondering if... I could get your number?"

Naomi blinked, confused. Why did he want her number?

"I don't..." Naomi looked at Annabeth, who looked away from staring Logan down to look back at Naomi.

"She doesn't have a phone," Annabeth told the boy, her tone hard.

Logan raised his eyebrows. "Oh. I..." He looked between Naomi and Annabeth, then at their hands. "Oh! Oh, shit, I—I'm sorry. I didn't—that's my bad." His cheeks were red with embarrassment. "Uh... happy pride month!"

He scurried back to his friends.

Naomi looked at Annabeth, still very confused. Annabeth's cheeks were tinged pink.

"What was that all about?" Naomi asked.

"He was trying to get your number," Annabeth said.

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I got that part. But why?"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow at her. "He thinks you're cute."

Naomi's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Don't act so surprised," Annabeth muttered. "You're cute. People notice."

Naomi's face felt warm. "But why'd he tell us happy pride month?"

Annabeth shrugged. "I don't know," she said in a tone that usually meant she did know, she just didn't want to say.

"Does he think we're gay?" Naomi asked.

Annabeth shrugged again, though the movement was more stilted. "Would that be a problem?" she mumbled.

"Well, no," Naomi said. "I just didn't think it was that obvious I'm bi."

Annabeth looked at her, her stormy eyes wide. "You're bi? Since when?"

"Since forever," Naomi said. "It's kind of something you're born as."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "That's not what I mean, smartass. When'd you... I dunno, realize?"

"Last year," Naomi said. "Silena gave me a whole lecture on the queer community after she realized Catholic nuns and private schools for troubled students don't really teach kids about sexuality. I started identifying as bi a couple days after."

"Oh," Annabeth said. She was quiet for a moment, then said, "I am too. Bi, I mean."

Naomi looked at her. "Since when?"

Annabeth smirked. "Since forever," she parroted.

Naomi narrowed her eyes at her, a smile tugging at her lips.

"I've known I liked boys and girls for a few years," Annabeth explained. "Some girl at my old school came out as bi. I did some research. Figured out I was bi, too."

"Oh," Naomi said. "Cool."

"Yeah," Annabeth said quietly. "Cool."

They reached their destination. As the bus came to a stop, Annabeth stood, pulling Naomi up by the hand. "C'mon, Buttercup."

"'Buttercup'?" Naomi repeated.

"Would you prefer something like Marigold?" Annabeth shot back.

"Does it have to be a flower?"

Annabeth laughed. "Obviously. Your mother's Persephone."

Naomi rolled her eyes playfully. "Fine," she said. "I'll take Buttercup—Sherlock."

"That is a compliment," Annabeth said.

"You would take it as one," Naomi teased.

"Come on," Annabeth said, still holding Naomi's hand. "Let's go find Percy."

In the end, Percy found them instead of the other way around.

He burst out of an alley like a bat out of Hades, running straight into Annabeth.

"Hey, you're out early!" She laughed, grabbing his shoulders to keep him from tumbling into the street. "Watch where you're going, Seaweed Brain."

She was in a significantly better mood than she'd been in after the bus guy asked for Naomi's number (Naomi figured she was just annoyed).

Then a redhead covered in yellow monster dust came charging out of the alley, yelling, "Percy, wait up!"

Annabeth's smile melted. She stared at the redhead, then in the direction Percy had come from. Naomi followed her gaze, noticing for the first time the black smoke and ringing fire alarms in the distance.

Naomi blinked, staring at Percy. "Did you blow up another school?"

Annabeth frowned at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes at the redhead. "And who is this?"

"Oh, uh, Rachel, this is Annabeth and Naomi. Annabeth, Naomi, this is Rachel. Um, she's a friend, I guess."

"Hi," Rachel said. Then she turned to Percy. "You are in so much trouble. And you still owe me an explanation!"

Police sirens wailed on FDR Drive.

"Percy," Annabeth said coldly, reaching Naomi's hand again. "We should go."

"I want to know more about half-bloods," Rachel insisted. "And monsters. And this stuff about the gods." She grabbed his arm, whipped out a permanent marker, and wrote a phone number on his hand. "You're going to call me and explain, okay? You owe me that. Now get going."

"But—"

"I'll make up some story," Rachel said. "I'll tell them it wasn't your fault. Just go!"

She ran back toward the school, leaving Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy in the street.

Annabeth stared him down for a second. Then she turned and pulled Naomi down the sidewalk.

"Hey!" Percy jogged after them. "There were these two empousai," he tried to explain. "They were cheerleaders, see, and they said camp was going to burn, and—"

"You told a mortal girl about half-bloods?" Annabeth asked.

"She can see through the Mist. She saw the monsters before I did."

"So you told her the truth?"

"She recognized me from Hoover Dam, so—"

"You're met her before?"

Naomi frowned. "Hoover Dam? That's the mortal that helped you get away from the skeleton warriors?"

"Yeah," Percy said.

"She's kind of cute," Annabeth said stiffly.

Naomi looked at her with wide eyes. Annabeth thought she was cute?

Wait...

Naomi might have been a bit oblivious when it came to romance, but she wasn't totally blind.

Annabeth was jealous.

(Naomi tried to ignore the empty pit her stomach turned into at the realization.)

"I—I never thought about it," Percy stammered.

Annabeth kept walking down York Avenue, pulling Naomi along with her.

"I'll deal with the school," Percy said. "Honest, it'll be fine."

Annabeth didn't even look at him. "I guess our afternoon is off. We should get you out of here, now that the police will be searching for you."

"Again," Naomi added.

Behind them, smoke billowed up.

"You're right," Percy said glumly. "We have to get to Camp Half-Blood. Now."

Chapter 67: ii. skia makes a friend

Chapter Text

THERE WAS SOMETHING VERY DANGEROUS about sitting in the backseat of a taxi between a fuming Annabeth and a thoroughly clueless Percy.

Percy tried to talk to Annabeth, but she was acting like he'd just punched her grandmother. All he managed to get out of her was that she'd had a monster-infested spring in San Francisco, she'd come back to camp twice since Christmas (Percy scowled at that), and neither she nor Naomi had learned anything more about Nico's whereabouts.

"Any word on Luke?" Percy asked.

Annabeth just shook her head. Luke was always a touchy subject, even when she wasn't already angry.

"Mount Tam is still overrun with monsters," Annabeth said. "I didn't dare go close, but I don't think Luke is up there. I think I would know if he was."

That pit in Naomi's stomach just kept getting deeper.

"What about Grover?" Percy asked.

"He's at camp," Naomi said. "We'll see him today."

"Did he have any luck? I mean, with the search for Pan?"

Annabeth fingered her bead necklace, the way she always did when she was worried. "You'll see."

As they headed through Brooklyn, Percy used Annabeth's phone to call his mom and let her know what was going on, leaving a message.

They rode in tense silence after that. The city melted away until they were off the expressway and rolling through the countryside of northern Long Island, past orchards and wineries and fresh produce stands.

Eventually, the taxi exited Route 25A. They headed through the woods along the North Shore until a low ridge of hills appeared on their left. Annabeth told the driver to pull over on Farm Road 3.141, at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

The driver frowned. "There ain't nothing here, miss. You sure you want out?"

"Yes, please." Annabeth handed him a roll of cash, and the driver decided not to argue.

The three hiked up to the crest of the hill. Peleus was dozing, coiled around the pine tree, but he lifted his coppery head as they approached and let Annabeth scratch under his chin. Steam hissed out of his nostrils like a kettle and he went cross-eyed with pleasure.

"Hey, Peleus," Annabeth said. "Keeping everything safe?"

Down below, Camp Half-Blood looked as peaceful as ever—rolling green fields, the expansive forest, the shiny white Greek-style buildings. The Big House sat proudly in the midst of the strawberry fields. To the north, past the beach, the Long Island Sound glittered in the sunlight.

But there was tension in the air, as if the hill itself was holding its breath, waiting for disaster.

They walked down into the valley and found the summer session in full swing. The satyrs were playing their pipes, making the strawberry fields grow with their woodland magic. Campers were having flying lessons, swooping over the woods on their pegasi. Smoke rose from the forges and hammers rang as kids made their own weapons for arts & crafts. Annabeth and Naomi's cabins were having a chariot race today (Katie finally figured out a way to build a sustainable chariot, so no healthy trees were harmed in the process). Over at the canoe lake, a couple of kids in a Greek trireme were fighting a large orange sea serpent.

A typical day at camp.

"I need to talk to Clarisse," Annabeth said.

Percy stared at her. "What for?"

"We've been working on something," Annabeth said. "I'll see you guys later."

"Working on what?" Percy asked.

Annabeth glanced toward the forest. "I'll tell Chiron you're here," she said. "He'll want to talk to you before the hearing."

"What hearing?"

But she jogged down the path toward the archery field without looking back.

Percy looked at Naomi. "What was that about?"

Naomi shrugged. "She and Clarisse are working on something," she said. "It's kind of... top secret, at the moment."

"Do you know about it?" he asked.

"A little," Naomi admitted. "But not all of it. Annie said they're waiting to figure some things out before they tell us everything."

Percy sighed. Naomi tried to ignore how tall he'd gotten over the last few months—and the consequent butterflies flurrying in her stomach. His dark hair had gotten a little longer, but it still had that windswept quality Naomi loved. And of course, like always, his eyes were a perfect reflection of the sea—deep, intense, enchanting.

Naomi forced herself to look away before he caught her staring. "I'm heading to the arena," she said. "Wanna come?"

He nodded. "Sure."

They headed to the sword arena, passing a few friends along the way—the Stolls, trying to hot-wire the camp's van; Silena, flying past on her pegasi; Drew and Lizzy getting killed by Lee and Jordan on the volleyball court.

Naomi and Percy walked into the amphitheater, stopping short in the entryway. In the middle of the arena floor, with its back to them, was a hellhound even bigger than Skia.

Acting on instinct, Naomi whistled sharply. It was a double-edged sword—it gained the strange, huge hellhound's attention, but it also summoned Skia, who bounded out of the shadows without a second to spare, crouching in front of Naomi in a defensive stance.

"Whoa!" a man's voice called out. "Easy there!"

Skia barked as the strange hellhound pricked up its ears.

Naomi turned, seeing a gray-haired man in Greek armor push off of the wall of the arena, walking over to them with a sword in one hand, his other raised in surrender. Even so, Percy summoned Riptide, standing between Naomi and the man.

Naomi put a hand on Skia's back. "It's okay, girl," she said cautiously. "Where did that hellhound come from?"

"That's Mrs. O'Leary," the man said. "She's harmless."

"Mrs. O'Leary?" Percy asked.

At the sound of her name, the hellhound barked again. Naomi realized she wasn't angry—she was excited. She crouched in front of Skia, looking like she wanted to get closer.

"Who's your hellhound?" the man asked.

"Skia," Naomi said.

"Ahh," he said. "Shadow."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Yeah."

Skia crouched again, but the tension was gone from her body. She cautiously approached Mrs. O'Leary, who stayed crouched, and the two beasts sniffed at each other, their tails slowly starting to wag.

"Chiron didn't mention that there was a child of Hades at camp," the man said, though he sounded more curious than suspicious.

"There's not," Naomi said carefully. "My mother's Persephone."

The man raised his eyebrows. "Oh. I didn't know she had half-blood children."

"I'm sort of limited edition," Naomi said.

The man laughed. "I see."

Mrs. O'Leary nudged a soggy, badly chewed target dummy toward him, her entire body shaking with the force of her tail-wagging. Skia seemed just as excited, watching the man with anticipation in her eyes.

"Good girl," the man said. With his free hand he grabbed the armored mannequin by the neck and heaved it toward the stands. "Get the Greek! Get the Greek!"

Mrs. O'Leary and Skia both bounded after the dummy, which ended in a tug-of-war contest that lasted about four seconds before the dummy was torn in half. Skia chewed happily on a leg while Mrs. O'Leary gnawed on its helmet.

The swordsman smiled dryly. He looked like he was in his fifties, with short gray hair and a clipped gray beard. He was in good shape for an older guy. He wore black mountain-climbing trousers and a bronze breastplate strapped over an orange camp t-shirt. At the base of his neck was a strange mark, a purplish blotch like a birthmark or a tattoo, but before Naomi could make out what it was, he shifted his armor straps and the mark disappeared under his collar.

"Mrs. O'Leary is my pet," he explained.

"Who are you?" Percy asked.

"Promise not to kill me if I put my sword away?" the man joked.

"I guess," Percy said.

The man sheathed his sword and held out his hand. "Quintus."

He shook Naomi and Percy's hands. His was as rough as sandpaper.

"Percy Jackson," Percy introduced himself.

"Naomi Sakura," Naomi said. "Sorry about that. Are... are you a child of Hades?"

"No, definitely not," Quintus said with a laugh.

"Then how did you...?"

"Get a hellhound for a pet? Long story, involving many close calls with death and quite a few giant chew toys. I'm the new sword instructor, by the way. Helping out while Mr. D is away."

"Oh," Percy said. "Wait, Mr. D is away?"

"Yes, well... busy times," Quintus said. "Even old Dionysus must help out. He's gone to visit some old friends. Make sure they're on the right side. I probably shouldn't say more than that."

Off to the left, there was a loud BUMP. Six wooden crates the size of picnic tables were stacked nearby, and they were rattling. Mrs. O'Leary and Skia both cocked their heads and bounded toward them.

Naomi whistled. "Get out of there!"

She'd only meant to call Skia back, but Mrs. O'Leary turned away as well, pouting from the looks of it. Feeling a little bad, Naomi reached out a hand and pet Mrs. O'Leary's snout, which ended in her face getting soaked as Mrs. O'Leary gave her a kiss.

"What's in the boxes?" Percy asked.

"A little surprise," Quintus said. "Training activity for tomorrow night. You'll love it."

"Uh, okay," Percy said.

Quintus threw a bronze shield like a frisbee, and the hellhounds bounded after it. "You young ones need more challenges. They didn't have camps like this when I was a boy."

"You—you're a half-blood?" Percy asked in shock.

Quintus chuckled. "Some of us do survive to adulthood, you know. Not all of us are the subjects of terrible prophecies."

"You know about the prophecy?" Percy asked.

"I've heard a few things."

Before Naomi could even think to grill him about what he knew, Chiron clip-clopped into the arena. "Percy, there you are!"

He must've just come from teaching archery. He had a quiver and bow slung over his #1 CENTAUR T-shirt. He'd trimmed his curly brown hair and beard for the summer, and his lower half, which was a white stallion, was flecked with mud and grass.

"I see you two have met our new instructor." Chiron's tone was light, but there was an uneasy look in his eyes. "Quintus, do you mind if I borrow Percy?"

"Not at all, Master Chiron."

"No need to call me 'Master'," Chiron said, though he sounded sort of pleased. "Come, Percy. We have much to discuss." He looked at Naomi. "We'll see you at the hearing?"

"Of course," Naomi said.

Percy and Chiron bid Naomi and the new sword-instructor goodbye.

"I saw what you did to those automatons earlier today," Quintus said, picking up the bronze shield as Mrs. O'Leary dropped it at his feet. He threw it again for her and Skia to chase once more.

Naomi frowned. "I didn't realize you were watching."

"I like to observe my students when they're not aware they're being observed," he said. "Cuts down on performance anxiety, gives me a chance to see their true ability." He nodded at her hands. "You use twin swords. Like a dimachaerus."

"A what?" Naomi asked.

"A dimachaerus," he repeated. "Latin for 'bearing two knives,' essentially. It's a Roman style of gladiator-fighting. Though they typically fought with two curved swords, not regular xiphe."

Naomi shrugged. "My mom gave me the second one this past winter," she explained. "I figure that was a sign to try dual-wielding."

"One of them is Stygian iron, if I'm not mistaken?"

Naomi nodded. She summoned Asphodel, the black sword springing to life. "I've never even heard of it before."

"It's a special kind of metal forged in the Underworld," Quintus explained. "Forged in the waters of the River Styx, so only children of Underworld deities are capable of wielding it. Have you used it against a monster yet?"

Naomi shook her head. "Haven't really gotten the chance."

"It kills differently than Celestial bronze," Quintus informed her. "The blade actually absorbs your opponent's soul rather than turning them into dust. It's also quite effective against spirits."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "How do you know so much about it?"

Quintus smiled. "I'm a swordsman through-and-through," he told her. "I know a lot about blades—even ones I could never wield."

Naomi's wristwatch beeped, alerting her to the time. "Oh, I have to get going." She looked at Skia, who was currently engaged in yet another tug-of-war with Mrs. O'Leary. "I can send her away if—"

Quintus waved a hand. "They seem to be getting along great," he said. "She can stay."

Naomi nodded. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Quintus."

He laughed. "Just Quintus is fine. I'll see you at dinner!"

Naomi waved, willing Asphodel back into a ring and heading to the forest.

Naomi reached the clearing with moments to spare, sitting down in the spot Annabeth had saved between her and Juniper just before Grover started talking. Clarisse was on the other side of Juniper, and she gave Naomi a nod in greeting.

Juniper snagged Naomi's hand as soon as she sat down. Nymphs tended to take a liking to Naomi, especially the anthousai (like Lilium) and dryads, given Persephone's connection to nature. She'd made quite a few nymph friends during her time at camp, especially during the school year when so many campers were gone.

Juniper had been crying from the looks of it, her handkerchief clutched in her free hand. "What if they take his searcher's license?" she whispered tearfully to Naomi, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. "It'll kill him!"

"You can't think like that," Naomi whispered back. She rubbed Juniper's back soothingly. "Grover's done more for the search for Pan than any other satyr. The Council has to recognize that."

Juniper sniffled. "I hope so."

As Grover continued his story, Chiron and Percy arrived. Chiron dropped Percy down next to Clarisse then trotted off to join the Council.

"It's going terribly," Juniper sniffled mournfully, watching Grover nervously tell his story before the ornery-looking Council.

"He'll be fine," Naomi reassured her.

"Master Underwood!" the council member on the right shouted, cutting off whatever Grover was trying to say. "Do you seriously expect us to believe this?"

"B-but Silenus," Grover stammered. "It's the truth!"

Silenus turned to his colleagues and muttered something. After conversing shortly, Silenus tugged his yellow polo shirt over his belly and adjusted himself on his rosebush throne. "Master Underwood, for six months—six months—we have been hearing these scandalous claims that you heard the wild god Pan speak."

"But I did!"

"Impudence!" said the elder on the left.

"Now, Maron," Chiron said. "Patience."

"Patience, indeed!" Maron said. "I've had it up to my horns with this nonsense. As if the wild god would speak to... to him."

Juniper looked like she wanted to charge the old satyr and beat him up, but Naomi and Clarisse held her back.

"Wrong fight, girlie," Clarisse muttered. "Wait."

"For six months," Silenus continued, "we have indulged you, Master Underwood. We let you travel. We allowed you to keep your searcher's license. We waited for you to bring proof of your preposterous claim. And what have you found in six months of travel?"

"I just need more time," Grover pleaded.

"Nothing!" the elder in the middle chimed in. "You have found nothing."

"But, Leneus—"

Silenus raised his hand. Chiron leaned in and said something to the satyrs. The satyrs didn't look happy. They muttered and argued among themselves, but Chiron said something else, and Silenus sighed. He nodded reluctantly.

"Master Underwood," Silenus announced, "we will give you one more chance."

Grover brightened. "Thank you!"

"One more week."

"What?" Grover's relief turned into horror. "But sir! That's impossible!"

"One more week, Master Underwood. And then, if you cannot prove your claims, it will be time for you to pursue another career. Something to suit your dramatic talents. Puppet theater, perhaps. Or tap dancing."

"But sir, I—I can't lose my searcher's license. My whole life—"

"This meeting of the council is adjourned," Silenus said. "And now let us enjoy our noonday meal!"

The old satyr clapped his hands, and a bunch of nymphs melted out of the trees with platters of vegetables, fruits, tin cans, and other goat delicacies. The circle of satyrs broke and charged the food.

Grover walked over to his friends, his expression crestfallen.

"Hi, Percy," he greeted, so depressed he didn't even offer to shake his hand. "That went well, huh?"

"Those old goats!" Juniper said. "Oh, Grover, they don't know how hard you've tried!"

"There is another option," Clarisse said darkly.

"No. No." Juniper shook her head. "Grover, I won't let you."

His face was ashen. "I—I'll have to think about it. But we don't even know where to look."

"What are you talking about?" Percy asked.

In the distance, a conch horn sounded.

Annabeth pursed her lips. "Naomi and I'll fill you in later, Percy. We'd better get back to our cabins. Inspection is starting."

Chapter 68: iii. the swordsman makes an assumption

Chapter Text

WHEN IT CAME TO CABIN INSPECTIONS, Cabin Four never got last place, all thanks to Katie's neat-freak tendencies. The only time they'd come close was when the Stolls had tried to sabotage their cabin and scatter laundry, trinkets, and literal dirt all over the floor so the Hermes cabin would have a chance at not getting last place (and the kitchen duty that came with it). Katie had given Travis a black eye and managed to enlist the help of a couple of dryads to get the cabin spick-and-span once again.

At Katie's request, Naomi summoned fresh flowers in the window boxes. She grew a couple of honeysuckle vines around the doorway for the fragrance, stealing one to taste the nectar from it (picking a favorite flower felt a little like trying to pick a favorite child, but honeysuckle was a strong contender). She covered the grass roof in wildflowers as well, just for the added aesthetic.

Silena was in charge of inspections today, which was bad news for most cabins. Like Katie, she was a total neat freak.

Across the green, the Hermes kids were scrambling around in a panic, yelling at each other and throwing what looked like dirty clothes at each other.

"Animals," Katie muttered distastefully.

"You're the one who's in love with their counselor," Miranda teased.

Katie's cheeks got red. "I am not in love with that slob."

"Sure," Asher said, drawing out the vowel.

Katie rolled her eyes. "This is why Naomi's my favorite."

Naomi grinned, sticking her tongue out at her cabinmates.

As expected, Silena gave them a perfect score, adding that the honeysuckle were a nice touch. Some—namely the Stolls—might accuse Silena of favoritism when it came to Naomi's cabin, but they were the only ones who complained.

Everyone knew the Demeter cabin was one of the neatest.

After cabin inspections, Naomi tried to sneak off to the arena, but Katie grabbed her arm and dragged her to the strawberry fields with the rest of the cabin. After an hour of picking strawberries, Naomi managed to convince Katie to let her get in some training, having to promise to drink plenty of water and get to dinner on time later.

Quintus was there, though Naomi wasn't sure he'd ever left. Skia was gone—back to the Underworld, no doubt—but Mrs. O'Leary was there, and she barked happily upon seeing Naomi.

"Ah, Naomi!" Quintus said. "I didn't expect to see you here again so soon."

Naomi shrugged sheepishly. "I wanted to get some extra training in."

"Twenty rounds a day isn't enough?" Quintus teased.

Naomi's face flushed.

"Is there a reason you're training so hard?" he asked her, his tone curious. "Besides the obvious?"

Naomi summoned Hemlock, studying it so she didn't have to look at Quintus. "I had a run-in with the Titan Atlas this past winter," she said quietly. "Met Death. Kind of hoping to avoid ever doing that again."

Quintus nodded in understanding. "Nothing like a brush with death to kick us into high-gear, ay?"

Naomi cracked a smile. "Yeah."

"But that's not all, is it?"

Naomi was a bit surprised—but then, maybe she shouldn't have been. Quintus had been a half-blood far longer than anyone else at camp. He'd seen far more than she had.

She sighed, fiddling with the hilt of her sword. "Have you ever had this feeling that... that something's going to happen to you. Something... life-changing? And you can't explain it, but you know it's coming, and... and it might end in your death?"

"What do you think's going to happen?" Quintus asked her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "It's just this... this feeling. Like something's waiting for me, and I have no choice but to prepare as best as I can, not even knowing what it is in the first place."

(What she was still too afraid to say out loud: that she'd been having the same nightmare every night for a solid month; that every time she fell asleep, she found herself in an endless void, screaming without any echo until her throat was raw and her lungs heaving; that she was terrified it was a premonition, that there would come a day, soon, where she'd stand in that void—awake, terrified, clinging to nothing more than memories of the light outside of that endless darkness.)

"I guess that's why I'm training so hard," she said quietly. "It's the only way I really know how to prepare."

Quintus was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle—she never would have pegged him as the type to comfort, but maybe being a half-blood as long as he had gave you a healthy sense of empathy for your younger counterparts.

"I wish I could say it's probably nothing, but... demigod instincts are usually pretty strong," he said. "If you think something's going to happen..."

He trailed off, but Naomi knew what he was saying.

"It'll probably happen," she finished.

His eyes were soft with pity. Naomi cringed inwardly at the sight, but before she could stammer out an excuse and escape his pitying gaze, he said, "Why don't I give you a few pointers? I've watched a few dual-wielders in my day, studied their techniques. I could give you a few tips."

Naomi blinked, surprised by the offer. Again, she probably shouldn't have been—he was the camp's new sword-instructor, after all.

"That'd be great," she said. "Thank you."

Quintus shrugged. "It's my job. Now—one advantage of dual-wielding is that you can defend with one blade and attack with the other, like you were doing earlier," he told her. "Most half-bloods only use one weapon, so if they use it to block one of your swords, you'll still have another blade to strike with."

Naomi nodded. That all sounded like common sense, though she appreciated the interest Quintus was taking in the subject.

"Dimachaeri typically fought heavily armored opponents in gladiatorial combat," Quintus informed her. "And they're best suited for close combat, which is where speed becomes an asset. Your stamina's going to have to be good, too—wielding two swords isn't easy work.

"Now, suppose I'm another half-blood," Quintus said. He unsheathed his sword, raising it in the air. "If I came at you like this—" he slowly brought his sword straight down, like he was going to split her skull down the middle "—you could block it with one sword, which would give you a chance to do your own attack, but depending on your energy and upper-body strength, I could power through your sword and still knock you in the head."

"So... I probably shouldn't do that," Naomi guessed.

Quintus chuckled. "It's not recommended. Now, another way you could block it would be to cross your swords—yep, just like that. Once you've got me in this position, you can do one of two things. The first—you could twist one blade over mine, forcing me to either lose my grip or my balance. That takes a bit more brute strength, though. The second option would be to use your feet, which is where your balance comes in. As long as you can balance well enough, you could kick me—though you've gotta be careful not to let your foot linger, otherwise I could grab your leg and bring you down."

Naomi bit her lip. "So, the first—" She tried the technique, mindful of Asphodel, and twisted Hemlock over Quintus's sword. She knew he wasn't fighting back that hard, letting Hemlock force his sword down and to the side until he let go, the blade clattering to the floor.

"Good," he said. "Now—" he got back into the same position "—try the second."

Naomi crossed her swords again, catching his blade between her own. As quick as a serpent's strike, she kicked his knee, making it bend and forcing Quintus to stumble. Naomi used Asphodel to knock his sword aside, placing the tip of Hemlock lightly against the hollow of the man's throat.

Naomi grinned. "Like that?"

"Just like that," Quintus confirmed, accepting her hand to help him back to his feet. "Excellent work." His gaze shifted to something behind her. "Ah, hello, Percy. And this must be...?"

Naomi turned. "Tyson!"

Percy's Cyclops half-brother lifted her off her feet in a near-suffocating bear hug, though Naomi didn't mind in the slightest. She'd missed him.

"I missed you!" Tyson said.

"I missed you, too," Naomi said with a laugh.

Once he set her back on her feet, his eyes landed on Mrs. O'Leary, who was currently tearing up one of the dummies who'd seen better days. "Doggie!"

Mrs. O'Leary was clearly happy for another friend.

Percy crossed his arms over his chest, a rare stern look on his face as he looked at Naomi. "You're training too much."

Naomi raised an eyebrow. "Annabeth talked to you?" she guessed.

"Silena, actually," Percy said.

"Traitor," Naomi muttered.

"She's worried about you," he said. "And now so am I."

"I'm fine," Naomi insisted. "Extra training's never killed anyone."

"I'm almost positive it has," Percy said.

Naomi glared at him. Percy just stared back, unwavering.

Quintus chuckled, drawing them out of their staring contest. "He may have a point, Naomi," he said. "Why don't you take a break so I can teach your boyfriend here a few moves?"

Naomi's face heated up like a match was struck underneath her skin. She and Percy immediately looked away from each other.

"We—we're not—" Naomi stuttered.

"I'm not—" Percy stammered.

Quintus raised his hands in surrender, the amusement on his face growing. "My apologies, I just assumed—" He seemed to be holding in a laugh. "Sorry. Uh, Percy—why don't you—"

"Yeah," Percy nodded his head rapidly. His face was as red as cherry Kool-Aid.

Naomi didn't look at either of the two as she rushed to join Tyson and Mrs. O'Leary on the other side of the arena.

As Mrs. O'Leary dumped her front half onto Naomi's lap for pets, Tyson leaned over and whispered innocently, "What is a boyfriend?"

Naomi's cheeks flared up even more. "Ask Percy," she whispered back.

Tyson nodded sagely. "I will."

By dinner that night, Quintus's mistaken assumption was forgotten (or, rather, buried so deeply in Naomi's mind she'd need a bulldozer to access it again).

That night, after everyone else in the Demeter cabin had fallen asleep, Naomi laid awake. She feared she would close her eyes and fall back into that endless void. She feared one day the dream would shift into reality, and she'd disappear from camp like so many half-bloods, lost in a darkness even she couldn't comprehend.

It was past midnight by the time she gave up on sleeping. She quietly got out of bed, slipping on a pair of sandals and a sweatshirt (fervently ignoring the fact that it was one of Percy's). Barely making a sound, she slipped out of the cabin, sitting down on the porch steps for a breath of fresh air.

She tilted her head back, looking at the blanket of stars overhead. She traced Zoë's constellation with her eyes, her heart twisting at the memory of the girl whose soul now lived in the stars, watching over her sisters in the Hunt forever.

She jumped at a sudden, unexpected whish, startled even more as one of the sprinklers in front of the cabin started going off. That wasn't supposed to happen—they were on a schedule.

Then the light of the full moon seemed to glow brighter, the silvery rays gliding through the sprinkler's mist. Rainbow colors shimmered inside of the mist, and a pleasant female voice spoke from the steam: Please deposit one drachma.

Naomi frowned, looking around, but no cabin lights went on at the sound of the voice. Even her own cabin was silent behind her, as if only she could hear the voice in the mist.

Naomi wasn't sure what to think. She'd never gotten a collect Iris-message before. Even stranger—a golden drachma was already in the pocket of her pajama shorts, though she was positive it hadn't been there before.

She took out the drachma, tossing it into the mist with a frown. "O, Iris, goddess of the rainbow," she whispered. "Show me... whatever you want to show me."

The mist shimmered. She saw the dark shore of a river. Wisps of fog drifted across black water. The beach was strewn with jagged volcanic rock. A young boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned an unnatural blue color.

Then she saw the boy's face and her breath caught in her throat.

Nico di Angelo.

He was throwing pieces of paper into the fire—Mythomagic trading cards, part of the game he'd been obsessed with last winter.

He was only ten—maybe eleven now—but he looked older. Or maybe worn was the better word. His hair had grown longer. It was shaggy and almost touched his shoulders. His eyes were dark. His olive skin was paler now, as if he hadn't seen the sun since he ran from the dining pavilion months ago. He wore ripped black jeans and a battered aviator's jacket that was several sizes too big, unzipped over a black shirt. His face was grimy, his eyes a little wild. He looked like a kid who'd lived on the streets his whole life.

Naomi waited for him to look at her—for him to get mad and accuse her of letting his sister die. But he didn't seem to notice her.

She stayed quiet, not daring to move. If he hadn't sent this Iris-message, who had?

Nico tossed another trading card into the blue flames. "Useless," he muttered. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

"A childish game, master," another voice agreed. It seemed to come from near the fire, but Naomi couldn't see who was talking.

Nico stared across the river. On the far shore was black beach shrouded in haze. Naomi recognized it in an instant: the Underworld. Nico was camping at the edge of the River Styx.

"I've failed," he muttered. "There's no way to get her back."

The other voice kept silent.

Nico turned toward it doubtfully. "Is there? Speak."

Something shimmered. At first, Naomi thought it was just firelight. Then she realized it was the form of a man—a wisp of blue smoke, a shadow. A ghost. It was hard to focus on him, but when she looked at him in her peripheral, she could just make out his shape.

"It has never been done," the ghost said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," Nico commanded. His eyes shined with a fierce, almost desperate light.

"An exchange," the ghost said. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

"Not yours," the ghost said. "You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

Nico's face darkened. "Not that again. You're talking about murder."

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost said. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing."

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you get older."

Nico stared at the flames. "Why can't I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would... she would help me."

"I will help you," the ghost promised. "Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?"

Naomi didn't like the ghost's tone. He sounded like he was trying to manipulate Nico into doing what he wanted, gaslighting him with reminders of all he'd done for the kid.

Nico turned from the fire so the ghost couldn't see him, but Naomi could. A tear traced its way down his face, and Naomi's heart twisted painfully. "Very well. You have a plan?"

"Oh, yes," the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. "We have many dark roads to travel. We must start—"

The image shimmered. Nico vanished. The woman's voice from the mist said, Please deposit one drachma for another five minutes.

Naomi dug in her pockets, searched all around her, but there were no more drachmas. Before she could rush into her cabin and look for one, the Iris-message blinked out, and the night was dark once more.

She sat there in silence, her mind reeling.

Nico was alive—she'd already suspected (hoped) so, but she was relieved to have the confirmation.

He was trying to bring Bianca back from the dead. And he needed a soul to exchange hers for—the soul of someone who'd cheated death.

Naomi remembered the feeling of Atlas's spear in her side like a phantom pain; the pitying look of Death as he said goodbye to a soul he wouldn't collect. She had met Death, and lived to tell the tale—something no mortal should have been able to do.

She'd cheated death, and Nico di Angelo would come to make things right.

Chapter 69: iv. annabeth turns naomi into a delinquent

Chapter Text

THE NEXT MORNING, there was an excited buzz about the camp.

Apparently around three in the morning (after Naomi had finally passed out from exhaustion, thankfully bypassing any awful nightmares—thank Morpheus), an Aethiopian drakon had been spotted at the borders of camp. Naomi slept through the screaming. The magical boundaries had kept the monster out, but it prowled the hills, looking for weak spots in their defenses, and it didn't seem anxious to go away until Lee Fletcher from Apollo's cabin led a couple of his siblings in pursuit. After a few dozen arrows lodged in the chinks of the drakon's armor, it got the message and withdrew.

"It's still out there," Lee warned them during announcements. "Twenty arrows in its hide, and we just made it mad. The thing was thirty feet long and bright green. Its eyes—" He shuddered.

"You did well, Lee," Chiron patted him on the shoulder. "Everyone stay alert, but stay calm. This has happened before."

"Aye," Quintus said from the head table. "And it will happen again. More and more frequently."

The campers murmured among themselves.

Everyone had heard the rumors: Luke and his army of monsters were planning an invasion of the camp. Most of them expected it to happen this summer, but no one knew how or when. It didn't help that attendance was down—there were only around eighty campers left. Three years ago, when Naomi and Percy had first joined the camp, there had been more than a hundred.

Some had died. Some had joined Luke. Some had just disappeared.

"This is a good reason for new war games," Quintus continued, a glint in his eyes. "We'll see how you all do with that tonight."

"Yes..." Chiron said. "Well, enough announcements. Let us bless this meal and eat." He raised his goblet. "To the gods."

The campers raised their glasses and repeated the toast.

Naomi followed her cabinmates to the brazier, offering a portion of her Cheerios and sliced bananas to the gods.

She murmured, "Hades," and wordlessly, prayed: Help me help your son.

She had only just sat down when Annabeth grabbed her arm. "Come on."

Naomi held her bowl of cereal to her chest, letting Annabeth drag her...

"Where are we going?" she asked

Instead of answering, Annabeth just kept walking, dragging her over to Percy... at the Poseidon table... where they were not supposed to be.

"What's he talking about?" Percy was asking Grover as she and Annabeth approached.

"I'll tell you what it's about," Annabeth said, sliding onto the bench and pulling Naomi down next to her. "The Labyrinth."

Naomi noticed that the dining pavilion had gotten weirdly quiet. Campers were stealing glances at the Poseidon table and whispering.

Percy stared at Annabeth and Naomi. "You guys aren't supposed to be here."

"We need to talk," Annabeth insisted.

"But the rules..."

Annabeth knew as well as anyone that campers weren't just allowed to sit wherever they pleased. Satyrs were different—they weren't demigods. But half-bloods had to sit with their own cabins. Even Naomi had had to get special permission from her grandmother for her to move into Cabin Four. Gods were weirdly territorial about the cabins and dining tables.

If Mr. D were there, he probably would've strangled Annabeth and Naomi with magical grapevines or something—but he wasn't there. Chiron had already left the pavilion. Quintus looked over and raised an eyebrow, but he didn't say anything.

"Look," Annabeth said. "Grover is in trouble. There's only one way we can figure out to help him. It's the Labyrinth. That's what Clarisse and I have been investigating."

Percy shifted his weight nervously. "You mean the maze where they kept the Minotaur, back in the old days?"

"Exactly," Annabeth said.

"So... it's not under the king's palace in Crete anymore," Percy guessed. "The Labyrinth is under some building in America."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Under a building? Please, Percy. The Labyrinth is huge. It wouldn't fit under a single city, much less a single building."

Naomi thought about her Iris-message the night before.

Did I not lead you through the maze? Wasn't that what Nico's ghost friend had said?

"Is the Labyrinth part of the Underworld?" she asked.

"No." Annabeth frowned. "Well, there may be passages from the Labyrinth down into the Underworld. I'm not sure. But the Underworld is way, way down. The Labyrinth is right under the surface of the mortal world, kind of like a second skin. It's been growing for thousands of years, lacing its way under Western cities, connecting everything together underground. You can get anywhere through the Labyrinth."

"If you don't get lost," Grover muttered. "And die a horrible death."

"Grover, there has to be a way," Annabeth said. "Clarisse lived."

"Barely!" Grover said. "And the other guy—"

"He was driven insane. He didn't die."

"Some might argue that's worse," Naomi reminded her.

Annabeth gave her an unimpressed look.

"Whoa," Percy said. "Back up. What's this about Clarisse and a crazy guy?"

Annabeth glanced over toward the Ares table. Clarisse was watching them like she knew what they were talking about, but then she fixed her eyes on her breakfast plate.

Naomi shifted her own gaze to her cereal bowl. She wasn't all that hungry anymore.

"Last year," Annabeth said, lowering her voice, "Clarisse went on a mission for Chiron."

"I remember," Percy said. "It was secret."

Annabeth nodded. "It was secret," she agreed, "because she found Chris Rodriguez."

"The guy from the Hermes cabin?" Percy asked.

"Yeah," Annabeth said. "Last summer he just appeared in Phoenix, Arizona, near Clarisse's mom's house."

"What do you mean he just appeared?"

"He was wandering around the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armor, babbling about string."

"String," Percy repeated.

"He'd been driven completely insane. Clarisse brought him back to her mom's house so the mortals wouldn't institutionalize him. She tried to nurse him back to health. Chiron came out and interviewed him, but it wasn't much good. The only thing they got out of him: Luke's men have been exploring the Labyrinth."

"Okay," Percy said. "Why were they exploring the Labyrinth?"

"We weren't sure," Annabeth said. "That's why Clarisse went on a scouting expedition. Chiron kept things hushed up because he didn't want anyone panicking. He got me involved because... well, the Labyrinth has always been one of my favorite subjects. The architecture involved—" Her expression turned a little dreamy. "The builder, Daedalus, was a genius. But the point is, the Labyrinth has entrances everywhere. If Luke could figure out how to navigate it, he could move his army around with incredible speed."

"Except it's a maze, right?"

"Full of horrible traps," Grover agreed. "Dead ends. Illusions. Psychotic goat-killing monsters."

"But not if you had Ariadne's string," Annabeth said. "In the old days, Ariadne's string guided Theseus out of the maze. It was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris Rodriguez was mumbling about string."

"So Luke is trying to find Ariadne's string," Percy said. "Why? What's he planning?"

Annabeth shook her head. "I don't know. I thought maybe he wanted to invade camp through the maze, but that doesn't make any sense. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan, which wouldn't help Luke get past our borders. Clarisse explored a little way into the tunnels, but... it was very dangerous. She had some close calls. I researched everything I could find about Daedalus. I'm afraid it didn't help much. I don't understand exactly what Luke's planning, but I do know this: the Labyrinth might be the key to Grover's problem."

Percy blinked. "You think Pan is underground?"

"It would explain why he's been impossible to find."

Grover shuddered. "Satyrs hate going underground. No searcher would ever try going in that place. No flowers. No sunshine. No coffee shops!"

"But," Annabeth said, "the Labyrinth can lead you almost anywhere. It reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, trick you and kill you; but if you can make the Labyrinth work for you—"

"It could lead you to the wild god," Percy said.

"I can't do it." Grover hugged his stomach. "Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up my silverware."

"Grover, it may be your last chance," Annabeth said. "The council is serious. One week or you learn to tap dance!"

Over at the head table, Quintus cleared his throat. Naomi's cheeks were warm again.

"We'll talk later." Annabeth squeezed Percy's arm. "Convince him, will you?"

She returned to the Athena table, and Naomi hurried back to the Demeter table, ignoring the suggestive eyebrows Drew shot at her from across the pavilion.

Katie raised an eyebrow at her. "What was that about?"

"Don't ask," Naomi mumbled into her cereal. "Please."

That night after dinner, Quintus had the campers suit up in combat armor like they were getting ready for capture the flag, but the mood among the campers was a lot more serious. Sometime during the day, the crates in the arena had disappeared, and Naomi had a feeling whatever had been in them had been emptied into the woods.

"Right," Quintus said, standing on the head dinner table to be seen by everyone. "Gather round."

He was dressed in black leather and bronze. In the torchlight, his gray hair made him look like a ghost. Mrs. O'Leary bounded happily around him, foraging for dinner scraps.

"You will be in teams of two," Quintus announced. When everybody started talking and trying to grab their friends (Drew pointed directly at Naomi with a very firm look on her face, narrowing her eyes at Percy when he turned toward her), he yelled: "Which have already been chosen!"

Drew's glare could've melted steel.

"Your goal is simple: collect the gold laurels without dying. The wreath is wrapped in a silk package, tied to the back of one of the monsters. There are six monsters. Each has a silk package. Only one holds the laurels. You must find the wreath before the other teams. And, of course... you will have to slay the monster to get it, and stay alive."

The crowd started murmuring excitedly. The task sounded pretty straightforward. They'd all faced monsters before—it was what they trained for, after all.

"I will now announce your partners," Quintus said. "There will be no trading. No switching. No complaining."

"Aroooof!" Mrs. O'Leary buried her face in a plate of pizza.

Quintus produced a big scroll and started reading off names. Beckendorf with Silena (they were both pleased by that); Travis with Connor—no surprise there. Clarisse was with Lee Fletcher from the Apollo cabin—melee and ranged combat combined, they would be a tough combo to beat, if they didn't kill each other first (they were both very snarky). Drew was paired with Lizzy, her on-again off-again girlfriend. They were currently off, which Naomi figured was going to make the exercise extra fun for them.

"Naomi Sakura with Anthony Colson," Quintus announced.

Naomi made a face at Annabeth. "Who?"

"Son of Nike, I think," Annabeth said. "The guy with the red hair, the one looking over here."

Naomi found the boy, offering a hesitant wave.

Anthony Colson just glowered at her.

"Did I do something to him?" Naomi whispered to her friends.

"Maybe he's allergic to flowers or something," Percy suggested.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's it."

"It's possible!"

"Percy Jackson with Annabeth Chase," Quintus announced.

"Not fair," Naomi complained.

"Nice." Percy grinned at Annabeth.

"Your armor is crooked," was her only comment, and she redid the straps for him.

"Grover Underwood," Quintus said, "with Tyson."

Grover just about jumped out of his goat fur. "What? B-but—"

"No, no," Tyson whimpered. "Must be a mistake. I will go with Naomi—"

"No complaining and no switching!" Quintus ordered. "Get with your partner. You have two minutes to prepare!"

Naomi walked over to Anthony, offering him a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Naomi."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "I heard."

Naomi blinked, surprised. "Um, so, do you have an idea for a plan, or—"

"Just stay out of my way," the son of Nike said. "You'll only slow me down."

Naomi opened her mouth to respond, but the boy walked off before Naomi could even get a word out.

She grumbled a few choice curses under her breath, walking back over to her friends. "I'm hijacking your team. Anthony Colson's a dick."

Annabeth snorted. "I think that's cheating."

"I never said I'd help you," Naomi said smartly. "I'll just follow you around like an annoyingly persistent cheerleader."

Percy grimaced. "As long as you don't try to kill me like the last cheerleader I met."

Naomi just shrugged. "We'll see."

True to her words (and her morals), Naomi silently followed after the two as they followed a set of tracks, calling out monotone encouragements so she felt like she was contributing.

They jumped a creek and heard some twigs snapping nearby. They crouched behind a boulder, but it was only the Stolls tripping through the woods and cursing. Their dad was the god of thieves, but they were about as stealthy as water buffaloes.

Once the Hermes brothers passed, the trio forged deeper into the west woods, where the monsters were getting wilder. They were standing on a ledge overlooking a marshy bond when Annabeth tensed. "This is where we stopped looking."

It took a moment for Naomi to realize what she meant. Last winter, when they'd been searching for Nico di Angelo, this was where they'd stopped searching. Naomi, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover had stood on this rock, and Naomi and Percy had convinced the other two not to tell Chiron the truth: that Nico was a son of Hades.

Six months later, and the only clue Naomi had gotten was a mysterious collect-IM from the Underworld.

"I saw him last night," she said.

Percy and Annabeth both looked confused.

"What do you mean?" Annabeth asked.

Naomi told them about the Iris-message. When she was done, Annabeth stared into the shadows of the woods. "He's summoning the dead? That's not good."

"The ghost was giving him bad advice," Naomi said. "Telling him to take revenge."

"Yeah... spirits are never good advisers. They've got their own agendas. Old grudges. And they resent the living."

"He's going to come after me," Naomi said quietly. "And the spirit mentioned a maze."

Annabeth nodded. "That settles it. We have to figure out the Labyrinth."

"Maybe," Percy said uncomfortably. "But who sent the Iris-message? If Nico didn't know you were there—"

A branch snapped in the woods. Dry leaves rustled. Something large was moving in the trees, just beyond the ridge.

"That's not the Stoll brothers," Annabeth whispered.

She and Percy drew their swords.

They got to Zeus's Fist, a huge pile of boulders in the middle of the west woods. It was a natural landmark where campers often rendezvoused on hunting expeditions, but now there was nobody around.

"Over there," Annabeth whispered.

"No, wait," Percy said. "Behind us."

It was weird. Scuttling noises seemed to be coming in several different directions. Despite her previous declaration, Naomi drew Hemlock, tensing for an attack.

Someone right behind them said, "Hi!"

The three whirled around, and Juniper yelped.

"Put those down!" she protested. "Dryads don't like sharp blades, okay?"

"Juniper," Annabeth exhaled. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

Percy lowered his sword. "In the boulders?"

She pointed toward the edge of the clearing. "In the juniper. Duh. Are you guys busy?"

"Well," Percy said, "we're in the middle of this game against a bunch of monsters and we're trying not to die."

Naomi smacked his arm. "We're not busy," she said. "What's wrong, Juniper?"

Juniper sniffled. She wiped her silky sleeve under her eyes. "It's Grover. He seems so distraught. All year he's been out looking for Pan. And every time he comes back, it's worse. I thought maybe, at first, he was seeing another tree."

"No," Naomi said as Juniper started crying. "I'm sure that's not it."

"He had a crush on a blueberry bush once," Juniper said miserably.

"Juniper," Annabeth said, "Grover would never even look at another tree. He's just stressed out about his searcher's license."

"He can't go underground!" she protested. "You can't let him."

Annabeth looked uncomfortable. "It might be the only way to help him; if we just knew where to start."

"Ah." Juniper wiped a green tear off her cheek. "About that..."

Another rustle in the woods, and Juniper yelled, "Hide!"

Before they could ask why, she went poof into green mist.

The trio turned. Coming out of the woods was a glistening amber insect, ten feet long, with jagged pincers, an armored tail, and a stinger almost as long as Naomi's sword. A scorpion. Tied to its back was a red silk package.

"I should've just sat out," Naomi muttered to herself.

"One of us gets behind it," Annabeth told Percy as the thing clattered toward them. "Cut off its tail while the other distracts it from the front."

"I'll take point," Percy said. "You've got the invisibility hat."

She nodded.

"This is all you guys," Naomi said. "Good lu—oh, Hades."

Two more scorpions appeared from the woods.

"Three?" Annabeth said. "That's not possible! The whole woods, and half the monsters come at us?"

The scorpions scurried toward them, whipping their barbed tails like they'd come there just to kill them. Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy put their backs against the nearest boulder.

"Climb?" Percy suggested.

"No time," Annabeth said.

She was right. The scorpions were already surrounding them. They were so close Naomi could see their hideous mouths foaming, anticipating a nice demigodly three-course meal.

"Look out!" Annabeth parried away a sting with the flat of her blade. Percy stabbed with his sword, but the scorpion backed out of range. The trio clambered sideways along the boulders, but the scorpions followed them. Naomi slashed at one with Asphodel, but going on the offensive was too dangerous. If she went for the body, she'd get the tail. If she went for the tail, she'd get the pincers. All they could do was defend, and they wouldn't be able to keep that up forever.

"In here," Percy said.

Naomi looked at what he was pointing to. There was a crack between two of the largest boulders, something she'd probably passed by a million times.

Annabeth looked at Percy like he was crazy. "In there? It's too narrow."

"I'll cover you guys. Go!"

Annabeth ducked behind him and started squeezing between the two boulders. Then she yelped and grabbed Naomi's arm, and she only managed to grab Percy's armor straps as she tumbled into a pit that definitely hadn't been there before. She could see the scorpions above them, the purple evening sky and the trees, and then the hole shut like the lens of a camera, and they were in complete darkness.

Chapter 70: v. another deadly quest is issued

Chapter Text

DARKNESS. ENDLESS DARKNESS.

Naomi scrambled to her feet, her nightmare coming to life around her, the darkness pressing in. "No, no, no!"

Hands grabbed her face before the panic could take hold completely. "Nay!"

Like they usually did, Naomi's eyes adjusted with relative ease, allowing her to see Percy's face in front of hers, his brow pinched with worry. His hands were warm and calloused on her cheeks, anchoring her back to reality, out of that awful, awful nightmare.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice echoing.

The darkness wasn't endless. Not with that echo.

She swallowed hard against the lingering panic. "Sorry," she gasped. "I—sorry."

Percy studied her face, clearly worried. "You don't have to apologize. Just breathe."

Naomi forced herself to take a deep breath, tasting the moss in the air.

When Percy seemed to deem her okay, he let go of her face, but he put a hand on her arm. He drew his sword with the other, the faint glow of the blade just enough to illuminate Annabeth's frightened face and the mossy stone walls on either side of them.

Their breathing echoed against stone.

"Wh—where are we?" Annabeth said.

"Safe from scorpions, anyway," Percy said.

It didn't make sense—there shouldn't be a cave here. It was like the ground had opened up and swallowed them, like the fissure in the dining room pavilion. Was that what had happened to them?

Percy lifted his sword higher for more light.

"It's a long room," he muttered.

"It's not a room," Annabeth said. "It's a corridor."

She was right. The darkness felt empty. There was a warm breeze, like in subway tunnels, only it felt older, more dangerous somehow.

But still not as terrifying as the darkness in Naomi's nightmare. She was glad for that.

Percy started forward, but Annabeth stopped him. "Don't take another step," she warned. "We need to find the exit."

She sounded really scared now.

"It's okay," Percy promised. "It's right—"

He faltered.

Naomi looked up the way they'd come, but she couldn't see where they'd fallen in from. The ceiling was solid stone. The corridor seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions.

Percy's hand slipped from Naomi's arm and grabbed her hand.

"Two steps back," Annabeth advised on Percy's other side.

They stepped backwards together like they were in a minefield.

"Okay," she said. "Help me examine the walls."

"What for?" Percy asked.

"The mark of Daedalus."

"Uh, okay. What kind of—"

"Got it!" Annabeth said with relief. She set her hand on the wall and pressed against a tiny fissure, which began to glow blue. A Greek symbol appeared: Δ, the ancient Greek Delta.

The roof slid open and they saw the night sky, stars blazing. It was a lot darker than it should've been. Metal ladder rungs appeared on the side of the wall, leading up, and Naomi could hear people yelling their names.

"Percy! Annabeth! Naomi!" Tyson's voice bellowed the loudest, but others were calling out, too.

The three looked at each other nervously. Then they began to climb.

They made their way around the rocks and ran into Clarisse and a bunch of other campers carrying torches.

"Where have you three been?" Clarisse demanded. "We've been looking forever."

"But we were only gone a few minutes," Percy said.

Chiron trotted up, followed by Tyson and Grover.

"Percy!" Tyson said. "You are okay?"

"We're fine," Percy told him. "We fell in a hole."

The others looked at him skeptically, then at Annabeth and Naomi.

"Honest!" Percy said. "There were three scorpions after us, so we ran and hid in the rocks. But we were only gone a minute."

"You've been missing for almost an hour," Chiron said. "The game is over."

"Yeah," Grover muttered. "We would've won, but a Cyclops sat on me."

"Was an accident!" Tyson protested, and then he sneezed.

Clarisse was wearing the gold laurels, but she didn't even brag about winning them, which wasn't like her. "A hole?" she said suspiciously.

Annabeth took a deep breath. She looked around at the other campers. "Chiron...maybe we should talk about this at the Big House."

Clarisse gasped. "You found it, didn't you?"

Annabeth bit her lip. "I—Yeah. Yeah, we did."

Naomi's stomach twisted with dread.

A bunch of campers started asking questions, looking confused, but Chiron raised his hand for silence. "Tonight is not the right time, and this is not the right place." He stared at boulders as if he'd just noticed how dangerous they were. "All of you, back to your cabins. Get some sleep. A game well played, but curfew is past!"

There was a lot of mumbling and complaints, but the campers drifted off, talking among themselves and giving the trio suspicious looks.

"This explains a lot," Clarisse said. "It explains what Luke is after."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "What do you mean? What did we find?"

Annabeth turned toward him, her eyes dark with worry. "An entrance to the Labyrinth. An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp."

As the campers headed back to their cabins, Silena fussed over Naomi like the big sister she was.

"I thought Percy and Annabeth snuck off to canoodle or something," Drew said boredly, even though she was watching Silena check Naomi over with just as critical an eye. "'Til we realized you were missing, too."

Silena scowled at her sister. "Hush, Drew."

Connor Stoll squeezed in between Drew and Naomi, earning a scowl from the former. "Sucks being the third wheel, doesn't it?" he said. "If I have to listen to my brother and your aunt threaten to kill each other with those stupid puppy-dog eyes one more time—"

"Get lost, Stoll," Drew said, shoving him back toward his own cabin.

"You love me, Tanaka!" Connor called as he walked away.

"I'd sacrifice you to Hades for a stale Cheez-it!" Drew shouted back. She snorted a laugh once he was out of earshot. "He's right, though. Being the third-wheel sucks." She looked pointedly at Silena over Naomi's head. "We'll have to find you someone by the time Percy and Annabeth finally admit they're in love and start dating. Sherman Yang's single."

"Sherman Yang's an asshole," Silena said. "Don't listen to her, Nay."

"It's a fair warning," Drew said innocently. "Third-wheeling can and should be avoided whenever possible. It's easier when everyone's got somebody."

Silena rolled her eyes. "Sleep well, Naomi," she said as they reached the Aphrodite cabin. "I'll see you in the morning."

Naomi bid the sisters good night, trailing after her own cabinmates back to her cabin. She tried to ignore the way the pit in her stomach had doubled in size.

Third-wheel.

Was that what she was becoming?

It was almost impossible to sleep after all of that, and when the sun rose once again, Naomi wasn't sure she'd gotten any actual REM sleep during the night. She still felt groggy as she followed Katie to the war council.

Usually Naomi wasn't let in on the war council, seeing as she wasn't a cabin counselor, but since she'd been with Percy and Annabeth when they discovered the Labyrinth entrance, Chiron had invited her to join.

The meeting was held in the sword arena rather than the Big House, which was strange, but Naomi was pleased to see Mrs. O'Leary having the time of her life chewing on a giant squeaky toy. There was something precious about watching a dog play—even when that dog was the size of a school bus.

Naomi sat down between Katie and Silena. Chiron and Quintus stood at the front by the weapons rack, Clarisse and Annabeth sitting together as they led the briefing. Tyson and Grover sat as far away from each other as possible. Also present were Percy, Juniper, Beckendorf, the Stolls, Lee Fletcher, and even Argus, the camp's hundred-eyed head of security. That's how Naomi knew this was serious—Argus only showed up when something really major was going on. The whole time Annabeth spoke, he kept his hundred blue eyes trained on her so hard, his whole body turned bloodshot.

"Luke must have known about the Labyrinth entrance," Annabeth said. "He knew everything about camp."

Juniper cleared her throat. "That's what I was trying to tell you last night. The cave entrance has been there a long time. Luke used to use it."

Silena frowned. "You knew about the Labyrinth entrance, and you didn't say anything?"

Juniper's face flushed green. "I didn't know it was important. Just a cave. I don't like yucky old caves."

"She has good taste," Grover said.

"I wouldn't have paid any attention except... well, it was Luke." She blushed even greener.

Grover huffed. "Forget what I said about good taste."

"Interesting." Quintus polished his sword as he spoke—far more casual in this emergency war council than Naomi would have been able to be. Then again, he was a middle-aged demigod—he was probably used to this kind of stress. "And you believe this young man, Luke, would dare use the Labyrinth as an invasion route?"

"Definitely," Clarisse said. "If he could get an army of monsters inside Camp Half-Blood, just pop up in the middle of the woods without having to worry about our magical boundaries, we wouldn't stand a chance. He could wipe us out easy. He must've been planning this for months."

"He's been sending scouts into the maze," Annabeth said. "We know because... because we found one."

"Chris Rodriguez," Chiron said. He gave Quintus a meaningful look.

"Ah," Quintus said. "The one in the... Yes, I understand."

"The one in the what?" Percy asked.

Clarisse glared at him. "The point is, Luke has been looking for a way to navigate the maze. He's searching for Daedalus's workshop."

"The guy who created the maze," Percy said.

"Yes," Annabeth said. "The greatest architect, the greatest inventor of all time. If the legends are true, his workshop is in the center of the Labyrinth. He's the only one who knew how to navigate the maze perfectly. If Luke managed to find the workshop and convince Daedalus to help him, Luke wouldn't have to fumble around searching for paths, or risk losing his army in the maze's traps. He could navigate anywhere he wanted—quickly and safely. First to Camp Half-Blood to wipe us out. Then... to Olympus."

The arena was silent except for Mrs. O'Leary's yak-shaped chew toy's last words as the hellhound disemboweled it: SQUEAK! SQUEAK!

Finally Beckendorf put his huge hands on the table. "Back up a sec, Annabeth, you said 'convince Daedalus'? Isn't Daedalus dead?"

Quintus grunted. "I would hope so. He lived, what, three thousand years ago? And even if he were alive, don't the old stories say he fled from the Labyrinth?"

Chiron clopped restlessly on his hooves. "That's the problem, my dear Quintus. No one knows. There are rumors... well, there are many disturbing rumors about Daedalus, but one is that he disappeared back into the Labyrinth toward the end of his life. He might still be there."

"We need to go in," Annabeth announced. "We have to find the workshop before Luke does. If Daedalus is alive, we convince him to help us, not Luke. If Ariadne's string still exists, we make sure it never falls into Luke's hands."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "If we're worried about an attack, why not just blow up the entrance? Seal the tunnel?"

"Great idea!" Grover said. "I'll get the dynamite!"

"It's not so easy, stupid," Clarisse growled. "We tried that at the entrance we found in Phoenix. It didn't go well."

Annabeth nodded. "The Labyrinth is magical architecture, Percy. It would take huge power to seal even one of its entrances. In Phoenix, Clarisse demolished a whole building with a wrecking ball, and the maze entrance just shifted a few feet. The best we can do is prevent Luke from learning to navigate the Labyrinth."

"We could fight," Lee Fletcher said. "We know where the entrance is now. We can set up a defensive line and wait for them. If an army tries to come through, they'll find us waiting with our bows."

"We will certainly set up defenses," Chiron agreed. "But I fear Clarisse is right. The magical borders have kept this camp safe for hundreds of years. If Luke manages to get a large army of monsters into the center of camp, bypassing our boundaries... we may not have the strength to defeat them."

Naomi fidgeted with her fingers anxiously. Chiron had always tried to be an optimist, at least in front of the campers. If he was predicting they couldn't hold off an attack, that didn't bode well for any of them.

"We have to get to Daedalus's workshop first," Annabeth insisted. "Find Ariadne's string and prevent Luke from using it."

"But if nobody can navigate in there," Percy said, "what chance do we have?"

"I've been studying architecture for years," she said. "I know Daedalus's Labyrinth better than anybody."

"From reading about it."

"Well, yes."

"That's not enough."

"It has to be!"

"It isn't!"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Everyone was watching Annabeth and Percy go back and forth like they were watching a tennis match. Mrs. O'Leary's squeaky yak went EEK! as she ripped off its pink rubber head.

Chiron cleared his throat. "First things first. We need a quest. Someone must enter the Labyrinth, find the workshop of Daedalus, and prevent Luke from using the maze to invade this camp."

"We all know who should lead this," Clarisse said. "Annabeth."

There was an expected murmur of agreement. Naomi knew Annabeth had been waiting for her own quest since she was a little kid, but she looked uncomfortable, either from the attention or from the very idea of venturing into the Labyrinth.

"You've done as much as I have, Clarisse," she said. "You should go, too."

Clarisse shook her head. "I'm not going back in there."

Travis Stoll laughed. "Don't tell me you're scared. Clarisse, chicken?"

Clarisse got to her feet. In a shaky voice, she said, "You don't understand anything, punk. I'm never going in there again. Never!"

She stormed out of the arena.

Travis looked around sheepishly. "I didn't mean to—"

Chiron raised his hand. "The poor girl has had a difficult year. Now, do we have agreement that Annabeth should lead this quest?"

The entire council nodded.

"Very well." Chiron turned to Annabeth. "My dear, it's your time to visit the Oracle. Assuming you return to us in one piece, we shall discuss what to do next."

Annabeth did return in one piece, but it took far longer than Naomi's sanity could take.

"My dear," Chiron finally said, looking toward the entrance. "You made it."

Annabeth walked into the arena. She sat on a stone bench and stared at the floor.

"Well?" Quintus asked.

Annabeth looked at Naomi, then at Percy. There was a haunted look in her eyes, as if she'd met her own ghost, and she wasn't much older than her.

Then she focused on Quintus. "I got the prophecy. I will lead the quest to find Daedalus's workshop."

Nobody cheered, though it wasn't for lack of love for Annabeth. Naomi doubted there was anyone unhappy to see Annabeth finally get a quest, but this one already seemed deadlier than most.

Chiron scraped a hoof on the dirt floor. "What did the prophecy say exactly, my dear? The wording is important."

Annabeth took a deep breath. "I, ah... well, it said, You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze..."

They waited.

"The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise."

Grover perked up. "The lost one! That must mean Pan! That's great!"

"With the dead and the traitor," Naomi added, chewing on her bottom lip. "Not so great."

"And?" Chiron asked.

Annabeth hesitated. "The flower listens to the shadow's calls." She swallowed. "Lost in darkness, the chosen falls."

Naomi tried to ignore the not-so-subtle glances thrown her way.

Lost in darkness... Could it be the darkness from her nightmares? She prayed not, but... what else could it be?

"What is the rest?" Chiron asked.

"You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand," Annabeth finished, "the child of Athena's final stand."

Everyone looked around uncomfortably. Annabeth was a daughter of Athena—and a final stand didn't sound good.

"Hey... we shouldn't jump to conclusions," Silena said. "Annabeth isn't the only child of Athena, right?"

"But who's this ghost king?" Beckendorf asked.

Nobody answered. Naomi thought about the Iris-message she'd seen of Nico summoning spirits. She had a bad feeling the prophecy was connected to that.

"Are there more lines?" Chiron asked. "The prophecy does not sound complete."

Annabeth hesitated. "I don't remember exactly."

Chiron raised an eyebrow. Annabeth was known for her memory—forgetting was practically unheard of from her.

Annabeth shifted on her bench. "Something about... Destroy with a hero's final breath."

"And?" Chiron asked.

She stood. "Look, the point is, I have to go in. I'll find the workshop and stop Luke. And... I need help." She turned to Naomi. "The line about the flower... Will you come?"

"Of course," Naomi answered without hesitation.

"And Percy?" Annabeth asked.

"I'm in."

Annabeth smiled slightly, looking relieved. "Grover, you too? The wild god is waiting."

Grover seemed to forget how much he hated the underground. The line about the "lost one" had completely energized him. "I'll pack extra recyclables for snacks!"

"And Tyson," Annabeth said. "I'll need you too."

"Yay! Blow-things-up time!" Tyson clapped so hard he woke up Mrs. O'Leary, who'd dozed off in the corner.

"Wait, Annabeth," Chiron said. "This goes against the ancient laws. A hero is allowed only three companions."

"I need them all," she insisted. "Chiron, it's important."

"Annabeth." Chiron flicked his tail nervously. "Consider well. You would be breaking ancient laws, and there are always consequences. Last winter, six went on a quest to save Artemis. Only four came back."

Annabeth took a deep breath. "I know," she said. "But we have to. Please."

It was clear Chiron didn't like it. Quintus was studying the questers, like he was trying to decide which of them would come back alive.

Chiron sighed. "Very well. Let us adjourn. The members of the quest must prepare themselves. Tomorrow at dawn, we send you into the Labyrinth."

Chapter 71: vi. screw the world

Chapter Text

AS NAOMI'S CABINMATES left for the strawberry fields and Silena's headed for their flying lessons, Silena helped Naomi pack for the quest.

"You're going to do great," Silena said, though it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself along with Naomi. She folded another camp t-shirt, placing it neatly in the backpack. "It's your fourth quest—you're a pro by now!"

Naomi chewed on the inside of her cheek, shoving another pair of socks into the bag, only for Silena to tsk and immediately take them out to bundle them. "Sit down and take a deep breath," she said. "I'll do the packing."

Naomi did as she was told, taking a seat on her bunk.

"What's got you so nervous?" Silena asked.

"I've just been having bad dreams," Naomi said quietly. "Dreams where I'm in some dark void, unable to find my way out. And there's this screaming, and it's like... it's like what death felt like, but... scarier."

Silena frowned. She bundled another pair of socks and placed them in the backpack. "You think that void's in the Labyrinth?"

"Why else would I keep having that same dream every night?" Naomi asked. "And now with the line in the prophecy... it's inevitable."

"Nothing's inevitable," Silena said.

"Change, old age, death, taxes," Naomi listed.

"Okay, smartass," Silena mumbled, folding up a pair of leggings. "You're spending too much time with Annabeth."

Naomi rolled her eyes, but the pit in her stomach made itself known once more. Quietly, she mumbled, "Maybe I am."

Silena raised an eyebrow. "I was being facetious," she said. "I didn't actually mean that."

"You might still have a point."

Silena put her hands on her hips, turning her undivided attention to Naomi now that the backpack was all but finished—she just needed to grab some supplies from the infirmary. "Is this about what Connor and Drew said last night?"

Naomi sighed. Nothing ever got past Silena.

Silena sat down on the bunk next to Naomi. "Don't let what they said get to your head, Naomi," she said gently, brushing some of Naomi's hair away from her face. "You think Connor Stoll has any room to talk when it comes to romance?"

"It's not like he's wrong," Naomi mumbled. She drew up her legs, hugging them and resting her chin on her knees. "I have been a third-wheel. I mean, it was fine when we were younger, but... I guess it's weird, now. Maybe I should give them space to... I don't know, get together?"

"Naomi, Percy and Annabeth are your best friends," Silena said. "You don't have to give them space unless they ask you to, and frankly, I don't see that happening anytime soon. You three are a package deal around here."

"For quests, yeah," Naomi said. "But we're fifteen, Silena. And you've seen the two of them—they're inevitable. Just like taxes."

"Some might argue you and Percy are inevitable," Silena said. "Or you and Annabeth."

Naomi remembered Quintus's assumption, and the strange interaction with that Logan kid on the bus, but she pushed them both out of her mind. "You didn't see Annabeth when we saw Percy with that Rachel girl," Naomi said. "She was mad. Jealous-mad. You don't get that kind of jealous over someone who's just a friend."

"She's never been jealous of Percy hanging out with you," Silena pointed out.

"That's different," Naomi said.

"How is it different?"

"Because—because she knows Percy and me are just friends?" Naomi said. "I don't know."

Silena hummed quietly, like she tended to when she was thinking hard about something. "Did you know you're the only person who calls Annabeth 'Annie'?"

Naomi looked at her. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Silena raised an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between amused and exasperated. "She's never let anyone call her Annie before you," she said. "Travis called her that once and she spiked a volleyball right into his face. She maintains that it was an accident, but everyone knows it wasn't."

Naomi shrugged, unsure what to make of that. "It's just a nickname," she mumbled. "Doesn't mean anything."

Silena studied her for a moment, in that child-of-Aphrodite way that could unnerve even the most stoic of heroes. "Here's a question for you," she said. "If you had to choose one of them to date, who would it be—Annabeth or Percy?"

The question caught Naomi off-guard. "Wha—what kind of question is that?"

"Just answer it," Silena said gently.

"I—I don't know," Naomi said. "I don't—I don't want to choose."

"Don't want to?" Silena asked. "Or can't?"

"I—" Naomi stammered. "I don't... I don't think I can."

Silena's expression softened into something caught between nostalgia and grief. "You know what I think?" she asked softly. When Naomi didn't speak, she continued. "I think you're in love with Annabeth and Percy."

Naomi turned her head sharply, waiting to see amusement or disgust in Silena's eyes. But her soft expression remained, like sunlight through parted clouds.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," Naomi stuttered.

"I think you do," Silena said, her tone still gentle.

Naomi stared at her. She was waiting for one of the Stolls to jump out and declare this all a cruel prank; she was waiting for Silena to break and start laughing, or worse, start scolding Naomi for feeling that way, for being selfish in love, as if it was something she had any control over; worst of all, she was waiting for Percy and Annabeth to come out of the shadows, disgusted with a girl they'd only ever seen as a friend.

But none of that happened.

Finally, Naomi's shoulders fell in defeat. "I know it's wrong," she whispered.

Silena frowned, scooching closer. "What's wrong about it?"

"You're not supposed to like two people at the same time, in the same way," Naomi mumbled. "Not like that."

"Says who?" Silena asked.

"Says... I don't know, says the world."

"Who cares what the world thinks?"

"I do!" Naomi exclaimed. Her shoulders slumped down further. "I'm enough of an outcast as it is because of my mom. I don't want to be even more of a freak."

"Naomi." Silena's voice had turned into something like steel, her hand a steady comfort on Naomi's shoulder. "Loving two people doesn't make you a freak. You have a big heart—that's not something you should ever be ashamed of."

"If anyone else found out, they'd think I'm weird," Naomi whispered. "Or selfish, or indecisive, or—"

"That doesn't matter," Silena told her. "You want my advice?"

Naomi took a deep breath, leaning into Silena's warmth. "You know I do," she mumbled.

Silena leaned her cheek on top of Naomi's head. "Screw the world," she whispered. "Screw what anyone else will think. I'm not saying you have to go out and do some big grand romantic gesture to either of them, or even tell them if you're not ready to, I just..."

She got quiet for a moment, and Naomi watched her fidget with her wrist for a moment, with two of the handful of bracelets she always wore—a red and black braided cord she'd only started wearing a few months ago, and the rose-gold charm bracelet Beckendorf had made her for their one-month anniversary. Silena hooked her finger around them both, like a nervous habit.

Softly, she said, "Love's already complicated enough. It's so easy to mess it up, to miss out on something great because you're worried it'll crash and burn." She sighed. "Naomi, life... life's hard enough for people like us. It's your heart, no one else's—don't let what other people think control what you do with it."

Naomi couldn't speak for a moment—she just watched Silena rub the two bracelets between her thumb and index finger. They didn't match, a fact Silena must have known. But she still wore them together, as if she couldn't bear the thought of taking either one of them off.

Naomi had seen the red and black bracelet before—tied to a spear that Naomi had faced in training multiple times.

"When you say people like us..." Naomi said. "Do you mean demigods, or...?"

Naomi looked up, and she saw that Silena's eyes glittered with the faintest hint of tears. She smiled down at Naomi, but there was a deep sadness in it, like regret.

Silena didn't have to speak. Her silence was all the answer Naomi needed.

Unfortunately, Naomi didn't get much sleep that night. She had yet another stuck-in-an-endless-void nightmare, which forced her awake too early to justify being awake but too late to attempt to go back to sleep. Defeated, she got dressed and slipped out of the cabin door, hoping to watch the sunrise.

Gods knew when she'd get to see it again once they set off into the Labyrinth.

She'd only just settled down on the porch steps when the sprinklers went haywire again.

It happened as it had the first time—the moon seemed to almost purposefully angle itself so it penetrated the fine mist just the right way, creating a rainbow in the air. Unlike the first time, though, there was no voice asking for a deposit.

Naomi frowned at the mist. She went out on a limb: "Show me Nico di Angelo."

She didn't even have to throw in a drachma this time. The mist shimmered, and the image of Nico appeared, but he was no longer in the Underworld. He was standing in a graveyard under a starry sky. Giant willow trees loomed all around him.

He was watching some gravediggers work. Naomi heard shovels and saw dirt flying out of a whole. Nico was dressed in a black cloak. The night was foggy. It was warm and humid and there were frogs croaking somewhere. A large Wal-Mart bag sat next to Nico's feet.

"Is it deep enough yet?" Nico asked. He sounded irritated.

"Nearly, my lord." It was the same ghost Naomi had seen with Nico last time. "But, my lord, I tell you, this is unnecessary. You already have me for advice."

"I want a second opinion!" Nico snapped his fingers, and the digging stopped. Two figures climbed out of the hole. They weren't people. They were skeletons dressed in rags.

"You are dismissed," Nico said. "Thank you."

The skeletons collapsed into piles of bones.

"You might as well thank the shovels," the ghost complained. "They have as much sense."

Nico ignored him. He reached into his Wal-Mart bag and pulled out a twelve-pack of Coke. He popped open a can, but instead of drinking it, he poured it into the grave.

"Let the dead taste again," he murmured. "Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember."

He dropped the rest of the Cokes into the grave and pulled out a white paper bag decorated with cartoons. Naomi hadn't seen one in years, but she recognized it—a McDonald's Happy Meal.

He turned it upside down and shook the fries and hamburger into the grave.

"In my day, we used animal blood," the ghost mumbled. "It's perfectly good enough. They can't taste the difference."

"I will treat them with respect," Nico said.

"At least let me keep the toy," the ghost said.

"Be quiet!" Nico ordered. He emptied another twelve-pack of soda and three more Happy Meals into the grave, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. Naomi only caught some of the words—a lot about the dead and memories and returning from the grave.

Nico was really leaning into the whole son-of-Hades thing.

The grave started to bubble. Frothy brown liquid rose to the top like the whole thing was filling with soda. The fog thickened. The frogs stopped croaking. Dozens of figures began to appear among the gravestones: bluish, vaguely human shapes.

Nico had summoned the dead with Coke and cheeseburgers.

"There are too many," the ghost said nervously. "You don't know your own powers."

"I've got it under control," Nico said, though his voice sounded fragile. He drew his sword—a short blade made of the same Stygian iron as Asphodel. The crowd of shades retreated at the sight of it.

"One at a time," Nico commanded.

A single figure floated forward and knelt at the pool. It made slurping sounds as it drank. Its ghostly hands scooped French fries out of the pool. When it stood again, Naomi could see it much more clearly—a teenage boy in Greek armor. His hair was dark and curly, his eyes green like the sea. A seashell-shaped clasp held his cloak together at the base of his throat.

"Who are you?" Nico said. "Speak."

The young man frowned, as if he was having trouble remembering. Then he spoke in a voice like dry, crumpling paper: "I am Theseus."

Naomi's eyes widened. That couldn't be the Theseus—could it? When she heard the stories of him fighting the Minotaur, she'd always imagined a twenty-something with ridiculous muscles. But the ghost she was looking at wasn't strong or tall. He was just a kid, the same age as Naomi.

"How can I retrieve my sister?" Nico asked.

Theseus's eyes were lifeless as glass. "Do not try. It is madness."

"Just tell me!"

"My stepfather died," Theseus remembered. "He threw himself into the sea because he thought I was dead in the Labyrinth. I wanted to bring him back, but I could not."

Nico's ghost hissed. "My lord, the soul exchange! Ask him about that!"

Theseus scowled. "That voice. I know that voice."

"No you don't, fool!" the ghost said. "Answer the lord's questions and nothing more!"

"I know you," Theseus insisted, as if wracking his brain for the memory.

"I want to hear about my sister," Nico said. "Will this quest into the Labyrinth help me win her back?"

Theseus was looking for the ghost, but apparently couldn't see him. Slowly he turned his eyes back on Nico. "The Labyrinth is treacherous. There is only one thing that saw me through: the love of a mortal girl. The string was only part of the answer. It was the princess who guided me."

"We don't need any of that," the ghost said. "I will guide you, my lord. Ask him if it is true about an exchange of souls. He will tell you."

"A soul for a soul," Nico asked. "Is it true?"

"I—I must say yes. But the specter—"

"Just answer the questions, knave!" the ghost said.

Suddenly, around the edges of the pool, the other ghosts became restless. They stirred, whispering in nervous tones.

"I want to see my sister!" Nico demanded. "Where is she?"

"He is coming," Theseus said fearfully. "He has sensed your summons. He comes."

"Who?" Nico demanded.

"He comes to find the source of this power," Theseus said. "You must release us."

The image in the mist became fuzzy, the world within it shaking with power. The graveyard started to glow until Naomi was squinting at it, a headache forming behind her eyes.

"Stop," she whispered. A thousand knots had tied together in her stomach, dread flooding through her like a tsunami. "It's not safe."

Purple light glowed from the message, bathing the entire Demeter cabin in the violet hue. A spectral hand reached out from the image, and Naomi reeled back. Asphodel appeared in her hand in an instant, and she slashed through the image, her entire body trembling.

Naomi's mind was still reeling as she met her companions at Zeus's Fist. A trail of wildflowers led back to Cabin Four—that tended to happen when she was emotional. It was more than a little embarrassing, but she was used to it by now.

It was a clear morning. The fog had disappeared and the sky was a pretty shade of blue. Campers would be having their lessons today—flying pegasi and archery and lava wall climbing. Meanwhile, Naomi and her friends would be heading underground for who knows how long.

Juniper and Grover stood apart from the group. Juniper had been crying again, but she was trying to keep it together for Grover's sake. She kept fussing with his clothes, straightening his Rasta cap and brushing goat fur off his shirt. Since they had no idea what they would encounter, he was dressed in his human disguise, with the cap to hide his horns, and jeans, fake feet, and sneakers to hide his goat legs.

Chiron, Quintus, and Mrs. O'Leary stood with the other campers who'd come to wish them well, but there was too much activity for it to feel like a happy send-off. A couple of tents had been set up by the rocks for guard duty. Beckendorf and his siblings were working on a line of defensive spikes and trenches. Chiron had decided the Labyrinth exit needed to be guarded at all times, just in case.

Annabeth was doing one last check on her supply pack with Percy and Tyson when Naomi walked over. Annabeth frowned when she looked at her. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"A couple, actually," Naomi muttered.

Chiron trotted over before Naomi could elaborate. "Well, it appears you are ready!"

He tried to sound upbeat, but it was clear he was nervous.

"Hey, uh, Chiron, can I ask you a favor while I'm gone?" Percy asked.

"Of course, my boy."

"Be right back, guys."

Percy and Chiron walked out of earshot.

Naomi managed a smile. "Ready for this?" she asked Annabeth.

Annabeth nodded, quadruple-checking her bag. "I have to be," she said, as if she was trying to convince herself.

She zipped her bag with a sense of finality, slinging it onto her back. "Thanks for coming, Nay," Annabeth said.

"What, you thought I'd sit out on your big quest?" Naomi asked. "Not a chance."

Annabeth smiled—one of those rare, dizzying smiles that put even the most gorgeous flowers to shame.

Naomi's insides felt warm. She looked down at the grass, hoping Annabeth wouldn't notice her flushed face. She bent down to pluck a four-leaf clover, then handed it to Annabeth, smiling nervously. "For luck."

Somehow, Annabeth's smile got even more beautiful. "We're going to need a lot of it."

She tucked the clover carefully into her hair, securing it with a clip.

A few minutes later, the five questers stood before the rocks.

"Well," Grover said nervously, "goodbye sunshine."

"Hello rocks," Tyson agreed.

And, together, they descended into the darkness.

Chapter 72: vii. a picnic with the queen of the gods

Chapter Text

THEY MADE IT A HUNDRED FEET before they were hopelessly lost—which, all things considered, was probably an accomplishment.

The tunnel looked nothing like the one Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy had stumbled into before. Now it was round like a sewer, constructed of red brick with iron-barred portholes every ten feet.

Annabeth did her best to guide them. She had this idea that they could stick to the left wall.

"If we keep one hand on the left wall and follow it," she explained, "we should be able to find our way out again by reversing course."

The only problem with that: as soon as she said it, the left wall disappeared. They found themselves in the middle of a circular chamber with eight tunnels leading out, and no idea how they'd gotten there.

"Um, which way did we come in?" Grover said nervously.

"Just turn around," Annabeth said.

Everyone turned toward a different tunnel. It would have been funny if it wasn't terrifying.

"Left walls are mean," Tyson said. "Which way now?"

Annabeth swept her flashlight beam over the archways of the eight tunnels. As far as Naomi could tell, they were exactly the same. "That way," she said.

"How do you know?" Percy asked.

"Deductive reasoning."

"So... you're guessing."

"Just come on," she said.

The tunnel she'd chosen narrowed quickly. The walls turned to gray cement, and the ceiling got so low that pretty soon they were hunched over. Poor Tyson was forced to crawl.

They'd been walking (and crawling) for maybe a minute when Naomi heard it.

Komori.

It was a male's voice, clear as day. It sounded like the speaker was right next to her, but it didn't sound like anyone Naomi knew, and when she looked, there was only the shadow-covered wall beside her.

"What was that?" she asked.

"What was what?" Annabeth asked.

"That... that voice," Naomi said.

"All I hear is Grover's hyperventilating," Percy said.

"It was clear as day!" Naomi said. "Komori."

"Pretty," Tyson commented.

Naomi frowned. "No one else heard it?"

Naomi could practically feel Annabeth's anxiety from the front of the pack. "It's like the prophecy said—the flower hears the shadow's calls."

"But what's a komori?" Percy asked. "Is it a person? A warning?"

"Did the voice say anything else?" Annabeth asked.

Naomi shook her head. "Just komori."

"Maybe it's a warning," Grover said. "I think it's a warning. We should go."

"Grover, we've been down here maybe five minutes," Annabeth said.

"It's been longer than that," Grover insisted. "And why would Pan be down here? This is the opposite of the wild!"

They kept shuffling forward. Just when Naomi was sure the tunnel would get so narrow it would squish them, it opened into a huge room. Percy shone his light around the walls. "Whoa."

The whole room was covered in mosaic tiles. The pictures were covered with grime and faded with age, but she could still make out the colors—red, blue, green, gold. The frieze showed the Olympian gods at a feast. There was Poseidon with his trident, holding out grapes for Dionysus to turn into wine. Zeus was partying with satyrs, and Hermes was flying through the air on his winged sandals.

In the middle of the room was a three-tiered fountain that looked like it had been dry for centuries.

"What is this place?" Naomi asked. "It looks—"

"Roman," Annabeth said. "Those mosaics are about two thousand years old."

"But how can they be Roman?" Percy asked.

"The Labyrinth is a patchwork," Annabeth explained. "I told you, it's always expanding, adding pieces. It's the only work of architecture that grows by itself."

"You make it sound like it's alive."

A groaning noise echoed from the tunnel before them.

"Let's not talk about it being alive," Grover whimpered. "Please?"

"All right," Annabeth said. "Forward."

"Down the hall with the bad sounds?" Tyson said.

"Yeah," Annabeth said. "The architecture is getting older. That's a good sign. Daedalus's workshop would be in the oldest part."

That made sense. Soon, though, the maze began to toy with them—they went fifty feet and the tunnel turned back to cement, with brass pipes running down the sides. The walls were spray-painted with graffiti. A neon tag sign read: moz rulz.

"Not Roman," Naomi guessed.

Annabeth took a deep breath, then forged ahead.

Every few feet the tunnels twisted and branched off. The floor beneath them changed from cement to mud to bricks and back again. There was no sense to anything. They stumbled into a wine cellar like they were walking through someone's basement, but there was no exit ahead, only more tunnels.

Later, the ceiling turned to wooden planks and I could hear voices above them and the creaking of footsteps, as if they were walking under some kind of bar. It was reassuring to hear actual people talk, but it wasn't like they could get to them. They were stuck underground with no way out.

Then they found their first skeleton.

He was dressed in white clothes, like some kind of uniform. A wooden crate of glass bottles sat next to him.

"A milkman," Annabeth said.

"What?" Percy asked.

"They used to deliver milk."

"Yeah, I know what they are, but... that was when my mom was little, like a million years ago," Percy said. "What's he doing here?"

Naomi looked at the skeleton. "He died of starvation," she said, not quite sure how she knew, but confident anyway. She supposed it was a Persephone-kid thing. "So... bright side: at least he wasn't attacked by anything."

"He was probably mortal," Annabeth said. "Monsters usually don't bother with them."

"But what's he doing here?" Percy asked again. "In the Labyrinth?"

"Some people wander in by mistake," Annabeth said. "Some come exploring on purpose and never make it back. A long time ago, the Cretans sent people in here as human sacrifices."

Naomi tried not to think about which category they fit into.

Grover gulped. "He's been down here a long time." He pointed to the skeleton's bottles, which were coated with white dust. The skeleton's fingers were clawing at the brick wall, like he had died trying to get out.

"Only bones," Tyson said. "Don't worry, goat boy. The milkman is dead."

"The milkman doesn't bother me," Grover said. "It's the smell. Monsters. Can't you smell it?"

Tyson nodded. "Lots of monsters. But underground smells like that. Monsters and dead milk people."

"Oh, good," Grover whimpered. "I thought maybe I was wrong."

"We have to get deeper into the maze," Annabeth said. "There has to be a way to the center."

She led them to the right, then the left, through a corridor of stainless steel like some kind of air shaft, and they arrived back in the Roman tile room with the fountain.

But this time, they weren't alone.

The first thing Naomi noticed about the strange figure was his faces—or, rather, the fact that he had two. They jutted out from either side of his head, starting over his shoulders, so his head was much wider than looked natural. Looking straight at him, all Naomi saw were two overlapping ears and mirror-image sideburns.

He was dressed like a doorman: a long black overcoat, shiny shoes, and a black top hat that somehow managed to stay on his double-wide head.

"Well, Annabeth?" said the left face. "Hurry up!"

"Don't mind him," said the right face. "He's terribly rude. Right this way, miss."

Annabeth's jaw dropped. "Uh... I don't..."

Tyson frowned. "That funny man has two faces."

"The funny man has ears, you know!" the left face scolded. "Now come along, miss."

"No, no," the right face said. "This way, miss. Talk to me, please."

The two-faced man regarded Annabeth as best he could out of the corners of his eyes. It was impossible to look at him straight on without focusing on one side or the other.

Suddenly Naomi realized what he was asking—he wanted Annabeth to choose.

Behind him were two exits, blocked by wooden doors with huge iron locks. They hadn't been there on the group's first pass through the room. The two-faced doorman held a silver key, which he kept passing from his left hand to his right hand. Naomi wondered if this was even the same room, but the frieze of the gods looked exactly the same.

Behind them, the doorway they'd come through had disappeared, replaced by more mosaics.

The only way out was forward.

"The exits are closed," Annabeth said.

"Duh!" the man's left face said.

"Where do they lead?" she asked.

"One probably leads the way you wish to go," the right face said encouragingly. "The other leads to certain death."

"I—I know who you are," Annabeth said.

"Oh, you're a smart one!" The left face sneered. "But do you know which way to choose? I don't have all day."

"Why are you trying to confuse me?" Annabeth asked.

The right face smiled. "You're in charge now, my dear. All the decisions are on your shoulders. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I—"

"We know you, Annabeth," the left face said. "We know what you wrestle with every day. We know your indecision. You will have to make your choice sooner or later. And the choice may kill you."

Naomi didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded like it was about more than a choice between doors.

The color drained out of Annabeth's face. "No... I don't—"

"Leave her alone," Percy said. "Who are you, anyway?"

"I'm your best friend," the right face said.

"I'm your worst enemy," the left face said.

"That's helpful," Naomi deadpanned.

"I'm Janus," both faces said in harmony. "God of Doorways. Beginnings. Endings. Choices."

"I'll see you soon enough, Perseus Jackson," said the right face. "And you, Naomi Sakura. But for now it's Annabeth's turn." He laughed giddily. "Such fun!"

"Shut up!" his left face said. "This is serious. One bad choice can ruin your whole life. It can kill you and all of your friends. But no pressure, Annabeth. Choose!"

With a sudden chill, Naomi remembered the words of the prophecy: the child of Athena's final stand.

"Don't do it," Naomi said.

"I'm afraid she has to," the right face said cheerfully.

Annabeth moistened her lips. "I—I choose—"

Before she could point to a door, a brilliant light flooded the room.

Janus raised his hands to either side of his head to cover his eyes. When the light died, a woman was standing at the fountain.

She was tall and graceful with long hair the color of chocolate, braided in plaits with gold ribbons. She wore a simple white dress, but when she moved, the fabric shimmered with colors like oil on water.

"Janus," she said, "are we causing trouble again?"

"N-no, milady!" Janus's right face stammered.

"Yes!" the left face said.

"Shut up!" the right face said.

"Excuse me?" the woman asked.

"Not you, milady! I was talking to myself."

"I see," the lady said. "You know very well your visit is premature. The girl's time has not yet come. So I give you a choice: leave these heroes to me, or I shall turn you into a door and break you down."

"What kind of door?" the left face asked.

"Shut up!" the right face said.

"Because French doors are nice," the left face mused. "Lots of natural light."

"Shut up!" the right face wailed. "Not you, milady! Of course I'll leave. I Was just having a bit of fun. Doing my job. Offering choices."

"Causing indecision," the woman corrected. "Now be gone!"

The left face muttered, "Party pooper," then he raised his silver key, inserted it into the air, and disappeared.

The women turned toward Naomi and her companions, and suddenly Naomi was afraid. The woman's eyes shone with power. Leave these heroes to me. It sounded almost ominous.

But the woman only smiled.

"You must be hungry," she said. "Sit with me and talk."

She waved her hand, and the old Roman fountain began to flow. Jets of clear water sprayed into the air. A marble table appeared, laden with platters of sandwiches and pitchers of lemonade.

"Who... who are you?" Percy asked.

"I am Hera." The woman smiled. "Queen of Heaven."

Naomi had seen Hera once before, at a council of the gods this past winter, but she hadn't paid much attention to her then.

She didn't remember Hera looking so... normal. Of course, gods were usually twenty feet tall when they were on Olympus, so that made them look a lot less normal. But, now, Hera looked like a regular PTA mom.

She served them sandwiches and poured lemonade.

"Grover, dear," she said. "Use your napkin. Don't eat it."

"Yes, ma'am," Grover said.

"Tyson, you're wasting away. Would you like another peanut-butter sandwich?"

Tyson stifled a belch. "Yes, nice lady."

"Queen Hera," Annabeth said. "I can't believe it. What are you doing in the Labyrinth?"

Hera smiled. She flicked one finger and Annabeth's hair combed itself. All the dirt and grime disappeared from her face.

"I came to see you, naturally," the goddess said.

Naomi tried not to grimace. Usually when gods came looking for you, it was because they wanted something.

"I didn't think—" Annabeth faltered. "Well, I didn't think you liked heroes."

Hera smiled indulgently. "Because of that little spat I had with Hercules? Honestly I get so much bad press because of one disagreement."

"Didn't you try to kill him, like, a lot of times?" Annabeth asked.

Hera waved her hand dismissively. "Water under the bridge, my dear. Besides, he was one of my loving husband's children by another woman. My patience wore thin, I'll admit it. But Zeus and I have had some excellent marriage counseling sessions since then. We've aired our feelings and come to an understanding—especially after that last little incident."

"You mean when he sired Thalia?" Percy guessed.

This time, Naomi couldn't hide her grimace.

Hera's eyes turned toward him frostily.

"Percy Jackson, isn't it? One of Poseidon's... children," Hera said. "As I recall, I voted to let you and your friend here live at the winter solstice. I hope I voted correctly."

She turned her uncomfortably cold eyes on Naomi. "I'm glad to see you've survived this long, Naomi," she said, her voice kind but her eyes still cold.

Naomi shifted nervously. "You say that like you're... surprised."

"Yes," Hera agreed. "Most of us are."

Before Naomi could ask what she meant by that, the queen of the gods returned her attention to Annabeth, her smile turning friendly once more. "At any rate, I certainly bear you no ill will, my girl. I appreciate the difficulty of your quest. Especially when you have troublemakers like Janus to deal with."

Annabeth lowered her gaze. "Why was he here? He was driving me crazy."

"He was trying to," Hera agreed. "You must understand, the minor gods like Janus have always been frustrated by the small parts they play in the universe. Some, I fear, have little love for Olympus, and could easily be swayed to support the rise of my father."

"Your father?" Percy asked. Then he seemed to realize what she meant. "Oh. Right."

"We must watch the minor gods," Hera said, and Naomi knew it wasn't her imagination when Hera's eyes settled on her for a moment longer than would seem natural. "Janus. Hecate. Morpheus. They give lip service to Olympus, and yet—"

"That's where Dionysus went," Percy realized. "He was checking on the minor gods."

"Indeed." Hera stared at the fading mosaics of the Olympians. "You see, in times of trouble, even gods can lose faith. They start putting their trust in the wrong things. They stop looking at the big picture and start being selfish. But I'm the goddess of marriage, you see. I'm used to perseverance. You have to rise above the squabbling and chaos, and keep believing. You have to always keep your goals in mind."

"What are your goals?" Annabeth asked.

Hera smiled. "To keep my family, the Olympians, together, of course. At the moment, the best way I can do that is by helping you. Zeus does not allow me to interfere much, I am afraid. But once every century or so, for a quest I care deeply about, he allows me to grant a wish."

"A wish?"

"Before you ask it, let me give you some advice, which I can do for free. I know you seek Daedalus. His Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as it is to you. But if you want to know his fate, I would visit my son Hephaestus at his forge. Daedalus was a great inventor, a mortal after Hephaestus's heart. There has never been a mortal Hephaestus admired more. If anyone would have kept up with Daedalus and could tell you his fate, it is Hephaestus."

"But how do we get there?" Annabeth asked. "That's my wish. I want a way to navigate the Labyrinth."

Hera looked disappointed. "So be it. You wish for something, however, that you have already been given."

"I don't understand."

"The means is already within your grasp." She looked at Percy. "Percy knows the answer."

"I do?" Percy asked.

Hera shook her head. "Getting something and having the wits to use it... those are two different things. I'm sure your mother Athena would agree."

The room rumbled like distant thunder. Hera stood. "That would be my cue. Zeus grows impatient. Think on what I have said, Annabeth. Seek out Hephaestus. You will have to pass through the ranch, I imagine. But keep going. And use all the means at your disposal, however common they may seem."

She pointed toward the two doors and they melted away, revealing twin corridors, open and dark. "One last thing, Annabeth. I have postponed your day of choice, I have not prevented it. Soon, as Janus said, you will have to make a decision. Farewell!"

She waved a hand and turned into white smoke. So did the food, just as Tyson chomped down on a sandwich that turned to mist in his mouth. The fountain trickled to a stop. The mosaic walls dimmed and turned grungy and faded again.

Annabeth stamped her foot in frustration. "What sort of help was that? 'Here, have a sandwich. Make a wish. Oops, I can't help you!' Poof!"

"Poof," Tyson agreed sadly, looking at his empty plate.

"Well," Grover sighed, "she said Percy knows the answer. That's something."

They all looked at the boy in question.

"But I don't," Percy protested. "I don't know what she was talking about."

Annabeth sighed. "All right. Then we'll just keep going."

"Which way?" Naomi asked.

Grover and Tyson both tensed. They stood up together, like they'd rehearsed it. "Left," they both said.

Annabeth frowned. "How can you be sure?"

"Because something is coming from the right," Grover said.

"Something big," Tyson agreed. "In a hurry."

"Left is sounding pretty good," Percy decided.

Together, they plunged into the dark corridor.

Chapter 73: viii. percy has a gun

Chapter Text

GOOD NEWS: the left tunnel was straight with no side exits, twists, or turns.

Bad news: it was a dead end.

After sprinting a hundred yards, they ran into an enormous boulder that completely blocked their path. Behind them, the sounds of dragging footsteps and heavy breathing echoed down the corridor. Something—definitely not human—was on their trail.

"Tyson," Percy said, "can you—"

"Yes!" He slammed his shoulder against the rock so hard the whole tunnel shook. Dust trickled from the stone ceiling.

"Hurry!" Grover said. "Don't bring the roof down, but hurry!"

The boulder finally gave way with a horrific grinding noise. Tyson pushed it into a small room, and they all dashed through behind it.

"Close the entrance!" Annabeth said.

They all got on the other side of the boulder and pushed. Whatever was chasing them wailed in frustration as they heaved the rock back into place and sealed the corridor.

"We trapped it," Percy said.

"Or trapped ourselves," Grover said.

Naomi turned. They were in a twenty-foot-square cement room and the opposite wall was covered with metal bars. They'd tunneled straight into a jail cell.

"What in Hades?" Annabeth tugged on the bars. They didn't budge. Through the bars, Naomi could see rows of cells in a ring around a dark courtyard—at least three stories of metal doors and metal catwalks.

"A prison," Percy said. "Maybe Tyson can break—"

"Shh," Grover said. "Listen."

Somewhere above them, deep sobbing echoed through the building. There was another sound, too—a raspy voice muttering something that Naomi couldn't make out. The words were strange, like rocks in a tumbler.

"What's that language?" Percy whispered.

Tyson's eye widened. "Can't be."

"What?" Naomi asked.

Tyson grabbed two bars on the cell door and bent them wide enough for even a Cyclops to slip through.

"Wait!" Grover called.

But Tyson wasn't about to wait. They ran after him. The prison was dark, with only a few dim fluorescent lights to help them see.

"I know this place," Annabeth said. "This is Alcatraz."

"You mean that island near San Francisco?" Percy asked.

Annabeth nodded. "My school took a field trip here. It's like a museum."

It didn't seem possible that they could've popped out of the Labyrinth on the other side of the country, but Annabeth had been living in San Francisco all year, keeping an eye on Mount Tamalpais just across the bay. Naomi figured she knew what she was talking about.

"Freeze," Grover warned.

But Tyson kept going.

Grover grabbed his arm and pulled him back with all his strength. "Stop, Tyson!" he whispered. "Can't you see it?"

Naomi looked where he was pointing, and her heart stopped. On the second-floor balcony, across the courtyard, was the most horrific monster Naomi had ever seen.

It looked a bit like a centaur, with a woman's body from the waist up. But her lower half was that of a dragon—at least twenty feet long, with black scales, deadly claws, and a barbed tail. Her legs looked like they were tangled in vines, but then Naomi realized they were snakes, not vines—hundreds of vipers darting around, constantly looking for something to sink their teeth into. The woman's hair was also made of snakes, like Medusa's. Weirdest of all, though, was her waist. Where the human upper half met the dragon lower half, her skin bubbled and morphed, occasionally producing the heads of animals. Naomi saw a vicious wolf, a roaring bear, a snarling lion—like she was wearing a belt of ever-changing predators. Naomi had a feeling she was looking at something only half-formed; a monster from the very beginning of time, before shapes had been fully defined.

"It's her," Tyson whimpered.

"Get down!" Grover said.

They crouched in the shadows, but the monster wasn't paying them any attention. It seemed to be talking to someone inside a cell on the second floor. That's where the sobbing was coming from. The dragon woman said something in her strange, rumbling language.

"What's she saying?" Percy muttered. "What's that language?"

"The tongue of the old times." Tyson shivered. "What Mother Earth spoke to Titans and... her other children. Before the gods."

"You understand it?" Percy asked. "Can you translate?"

Tyson closed his eyes and began to speak in a horrible, raspy woman's voice. "You will work for the master or suffer."

Annabeth shuddered. "I hate when he does that."

Like all Cyclopes, Tyson had superhuman hearing and an uncanny ability to mimic voices. It was almost like he entered a trance when he spoke in other voices.

"I will not serve," Tyson said in a deep, wounded voice.

He switched to the monster's voice: "Then I shall enjoy your pain, Briares." Tyson faltered when he said that name. Naomi had never heard him break character when he was mimicking someone, but he let out a strangled gasp.

Then he continued in the monster's voice. "If you thought your first imprisonment was unbearable, you have yet to feel true torment. Think on this until I return."

The dragon lady tromped toward the stairwell, vipers hissing around her legs like grass skirts. She spread her wings, which Naomi had somehow missed in her first terrified look-over—huge, terrible wings she kept folded against her dragon back. She leaped off the catwalk and soared across the courtyard. Naomi and her companions crouched lower in the shadows, and Naomi made sure they were covered completely as the monster flew over.

Then, the terrifying creature disappeared around the corner.

"H-h-horrible," Grover said. "I've never smelt any monster that strong."

"Cyclopes' worst nightmare," Tyson murmured. "Kampê."

"Who?" Percy asked.

Tyson swallowed. "Every Cyclops knows about her. Stories about her scare us when we're babies. She was our jailer in the bad years."

Annabeth nodded. "I remember now. When the Titans ruled, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos's earlier children—the Cyclopes and the Hekatonkheires."

"The Heka-wha?" Naomi asked.

"The Hundred-Handed Ones," she said. "They called them that because... well, they had a hundred hands. They were elder brothers of the Cyclopes."

"Very powerful," Tyson said. "Wonderful! As tall as the sky. So strong they could break mountains!"

"Cool," Percy said. "Unless you're a mountain."

"Kampê was the jailer," Tyson said. "She worked for Kronos. She kept our brothers locked up in Tartarus, tortured them always, until Zeus came. He killed Kampê and freed Cyclopes and Hundred-Handed Ones to help fight against the Titans in the big war."

"And now Kampê is back," Percy said.

"Bad," Tyson summed up.

"So who's in that cell?" Naomi asked. "You said a name—"

"Briares!" Tyson perked up. "He is a Hundred-Handed One. They are as tall as the sky and—"

"Yeah," Percy said. "They break mountains."

Naomi looked up at the cells above them, wondering how something as tall as the sky could fit in a tiny cell, and why he was crying.

"I guess we should check it out," Annabeth said, "before Kampê comes back."

As they approached the cell, the weeping got louder. When Naomi first saw the creature inside, she wasn't sure what she was looking at. He was human-size and his skin was pale, the color of milk. He wore a loincloth like a big diaper. His feet seemed too big for his body, with cracked dirty toenails, eight toes on each foot. But the top half of his body was the weird part. He made Janus look downright normal. His chest sprouted more arms than Naomi could feasibly count (though she went ahead and assumed there were a hundred, since... well, it was in the name). The arms looked like normal arms, but they all tangled together, so his chest looked a bit like a naked honeysuckle bush in the winter. Several hands were covering his face as he sobbed.

"Either the sky isn't as tall as it used to be," Percy muttered, "or he's short."

"Don't make fun of people's heights!" Naomi protested.

"I'm just saying!"

Tyson didn't pay them any attention. He fell to his knees.

"Briares!" he called.

The sobbing stopped.

"Great Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson said. "Help us!"

Briares looked up. His face was long and sad, with a crooked nose and bad teeth. He had deep brown eyes—completely brown with no whites or black pupils, like they'd been made out of clay.

"Run while you can, Cyclops," Briares said miserably. "I cannot even help myself."

"You are a Hundred-Handed One!" Tyson insisted. "You can do anything!"

Briares wiped his nose with five or six hands. Several others were fidgeting with little pieces of metal and wood from a broken bed, the way Tyson always played with spare parts. It was amazing to watch. The hands seemed to have a mind of their own. They built a toy boat out of wood, then disassembled it just as fast. Other hands were scratching at the cement floor for no apparent reason. Others were playing rock, paper, scissors. A few others were making ducky and doggie shadow puppets against the wall.

"I cannot," Briares moaned. "Kampê is back! The Titans will rise and throw us back into Tartarus."

"Put on your brave face!" Tyson said.

Immediately Briares's face morphed into something else. Same brown eyes, but otherwise totally different features. He had an upturned nose, arched eyebrows, and a weird smile, like he was trying to act brave. But then his face turned back to what it had been before.

"No good," he said. "My scared face keeps coming back."

"How did you do that?" Percy asked.

Annabeth elbowed him. "Don't be rude. The Hundred-Handed Ones all have fifty different faces."

"Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture."

Tyson was still entranced. "It will be okay, Briares! We will help you! Can I have your autograph?"

Briares sniffled. "Do you have one hundred pens?"

"Guys," Grover interrupted. "We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back. She'll sense us sooner or later."

"Break the bars," Annabeth said.

"Yes!" Tyson said, smiling proudly. "Briares can do it. He is very strong. Stronger than Cyclopes, even! Watch!"

Briares whimpered. A dozen of his hands started playing patty-cake, but none of them made any attempt to break the bars.

"If he's so strong," Percy said, "why is he stuck in jail?"

Annabeth ribbed him again. "He's terrified," she whispered. "Kampê had imprisoned him in Tartarus for thousands of years. How would you feel?"

The Hundred-Handed One covered his face again.

"Briares?" Tyson asked. "What... what is wrong? Show us your great strength!"

"Tyson," Annabeth said, "I think you'd better break the bars."

Tyson's smile melted slowly.

"I will break the bars," he repeated. He grabbed the cell door and ripped it off its hinges like it was made of wet clay.

"Come on, Briares," Annabeth said. "Let's get you out of here."

She held out her hand. For a second, Briares's face morphed to a hopeful expression. Several of his arms reached out, but twice as many slapped them away.

"I cannot," he said. "She will punish me."

"It's all right," Annabeth promised. "You fought the Titans before, and you won, remember?"

"I remember the war." Briares's face changed again—furrowed brow and a pouting mouth. His brooding face, maybe? "Lightning shook the world. We threw many rocks. The Titans and the monsters almost won. Now they are getting strong again. Kampê said so."

"Don't listen to her," Percy said. "Come on!"

He didn't move. Naomi knew Grover was right—they didn't have much time before Kampê returned. But they couldn't just leave Briares. It wouldn't be right.

"One game of rock, paper, scissors," Percy blurted out. "If I win, you come with us. If I lose, we'll leave you in jail."

Annabeth looked at him like he was crazy.

Briares's face morphed to doubtful. "I always win rock, paper, scissors."

"Then let's do it!" Percy pounded his fist in his palm three times.

Briares did the same with all one hundred hands, which sounded like an army marching three steps forward. He came up with a whole avalanche of rocks, a classroom set of scissors, and enough paper to make a fleet of airplanes.

"I told you," he said sadly. "I always—" His face morphed to confusion. "What is that you made?"

"A gun," Percy told him, showing him his finger gun. "A gun beats anything."

Naomi leaned over to Annabeth. "Can he do that?" she whispered.

Annabeth blinked, staring at Percy with a look that was torn between amazement and disbelief. "...I don't know."

"That's not fair," Briares complained.

"I didn't say anything about fair," Percy said. "Kampê's not going to be fair if we hang around. She's going to blame you for ripping off the bars. Now come on!"

Briares sniffled. "Demigods are cheaters." But he slowly rose to his feet and followed them out of the cell.

Naomi started to feel hopeful. All they had to do was get downstairs and find the Labyrinth entrance. But then Tyson froze.

On the ground floor right below, Kampê was snarling at them.

"The other way," Percy said.

They all bolted down the catwalk. This time Briares was happy to follow them. In fact, he sprinted out front, a hundred arms waving in panic.

Behind them, Naomi heard the sound of giant wings as Kampê took to the air. She hissed and growled in her ancient language, but Naomi didn't need a translation to know she was planning to kill them. It was pretty obvious.

They scrambled down the stairs, through a corridor, and past a guard's station—out into another block of prison cells.

"Left," Annabeth said. "I remember this from the tour."

They burst outside and found themselves in the prison yard, ringed by security towers and barbed wire. After being inside for so long, the daylight almost blinded Naomi. Tourists were milling around, taking pictures. The wind whipped cold off the bay. In the south, San Francisco gleamed all white and beautiful, but in the north, over Mount Tamalpais, huge storm clouds swirled. The whole sky seemed like a black top spinning from the mountain where Atlas was imprisoned, where the Titan palace of Mount Othrys was rising anew, and where Naomi had met Death. It was hard to believe the tourists couldn't see the supernatural storm brewing, but they didn't give any hint that anything was wrong.

"It's even worse," Annabeth said, gazing to the north. "The storms have been bad all year, but that—"

"Keep moving," Briares wailed. "She is behind us!"

They ran to the far end of the yard, as far from the cellblock as possible.

"Kampê's too big to get through the doors," Percy said hopefully.

Then the wall exploded.

"You jinxed it!" Naomi yelped.

Tourists screamed as Kampê appeared from the dust and rubble, her wings spread out as wide as the yard. She was holding two swords—long bronze scimitars that glowed with a weird greenish aura, boiling wisps of vapor that smelled sour and hot even across the yard.

"Poison!" Grover yelped. "Don't let those things touch you or..."

"Or we'll die?" Percy guessed.

"Well... after you shrivel slowly to dust, yes."

"Let's avoid the swords," Percy decided.

"Briares, fight!" Tyson urged. "Grow to full size!"

Instead, Briares looked like he was trying to shrink even smaller. He appeared to be wearing his absolutely terrified face.

Kampê thundered toward them on her dragon legs, hundreds of snakes slithering around her body.

"Run," Percy said unnecessarily.

There was no fighting that monster. They ran through the yard and out of the gates of the prison, Kampê right behind them. Mortals screamed and ran. Emergency sirens began to blare.

They hit the wharf just as a tour boat was unloading. The new group of visitors froze as they saw the five teenagers charging toward them, followed by a mob of frightened tourists, followed by... Naomi wasn't sure what they saw through the Mist, but she doubted it was good.

"The boat?" Grover asked.

"Too slow," Tyson said. "Back into the maze. Only chance."

"We need a diversion," Annabeth said.

Tyson ripped a metal lamppost out of the ground. "I will distract Kampê. You run ahead."

"I'll help you," Percy said.

"No," Tyson said. "You go. Poison will hurt Cyclopes. A lot of pain. But it won't kill."

"Are you sure?"

"Go, brother. I will meet you inside."

There was no time to argue. Naomi, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy each took one of Briares's hands and dragged him toward the concession stands while Tyson bellowed, lowered his pole, and charged Kampê like a jousting knight.

She'd been glaring at Briares, but Tyson got her attention as soon as he nailed her in the chest with the pole, pushing her back into the wall. She shrieked and slashed with her swords, slicing the pole to shreds. Poison dripped in pools all around her, sizzling into the cement.

Tyson jumped back as Kampê's hair lashed and hissed, and the vipers around her legs darted their tongues in every direction. A lion popped out of the weird half-formed faces around her waist and roared.

As they sprinted for the cellblocks, the last thing Naomi saw was Tyson picking up a Dippin' Dots stand and throwing it at Kampê. Ice cream and poison exploded everywhere, all the little snakes in Kampê's hair dotted with tutti-frutti. The questers dashed back into the jail yard.

"Can't make it," Briares huffed.

"Tyson is risking his life to help you!" Percy yelled at him. "You will make it."

As they reached the door of the cellblock, Naomi heard an angry roar. She glanced back and saw Tyson running toward them at full speed, Kampê right behind him. She was plastered in ice cream and T-shirts. One of the bear heads on her waist was now wearing a pair of crooked plastic Alcatraz sunglasses.

"Hurry!" Annabeth said, like it needed to be said.

They finally found the cell where they'd come in, but the back wall was completely smooth—no sign of a boulder or anything.

"Look for the mark!" Annabeth said.

"There!" Grover touched a tiny scratch, and it became a Greek . The mark of Daedalus glowed blue, and the stone wall grinded open.

Too slowly. Tyson was coming through the cellblock, Kampê's swords lashing out behind him, slicing indiscriminately through cell bars and stone walls.

Percy pushed Briares inside the maze, then Naomi, Annabeth, and Grover.

"You can do it!" he shouted at Tyson.

Kampê was gaining. She raised her swords.

Percy slapped his wristwatch and it spiraled into a bronze shield. He lobbed it at the monster's face.

SMACK! The shield hit her in the face and she faltered just long enough for Tyson to dive past Percy into the maze. Percy was right behind him.

Kampê charged, but she was too late. The stone door closed and its magic sealed them in. Naomi could feel the whole tunnel shake as Kampê pounded against it, roaring furiously. They didn't stick around to play knock, knock with her, though. They raced into the darkness, and for the first time (and the last), Naomi was glad to be back in the Labyrinth.

Chapter 74: ix. never meet your heroes

Chapter Text

THEY FINALLY STOPPED in a room full of waterfalls. The floor was one giant pit, with a slippery stone walkway that circled around it. All around them from all four walls, water tumbled from huge pipes. It spilled down into the pit, and even when Percy shone a light down, there was no telling how deep it was.

Briares slumped over against the wall. He scooped up water in a dozen hands and washed his face. "This pit goes straight to Tartarus," he murmured. "I should jump in and save you the trouble."

"Don't talk that way," Annabeth told him. "You can come back to camp with us. You can help us prepare. You know more about fighting Titans than anybody."

"I have nothing to offer," Briares said. "I have lost everything."

"What about your brothers?" Tyson asked. "The other two must still stand tall as mountains! We can take you to them."

Briares's expression morphed into something even sadder: his grieving face. "They are no more. They faded."

The waterfalls thundered. Tyson stared into the pit and blinked tears out of his eye.

"What do you mean, they faded?" Naomi asked, lost. "I thought monsters were immortal."

"Nay," Grover said weakly. "Even immortality has limits. Sometimes... sometimes monsters get forgotten and they lose their will to stay immortal."

Looking at Grover's face, Naomi wondered if he was thinking of Pan.

Naomi had never given much thought to how old the gods and monsters were, but now, looking at Briares, she realized how terrible it would be to live so long, the years passing like leaves on the wind, never stopping to give you a moment's glance. She couldn't imagine how lonely it must have been.

"I must go," Briares said.

"Kronos's army will invade camp," Tyson said. "We need help."

Briares hung his head. "I cannot, Cyclops."

"You are strong."

"Not anymore." Briares rose.

Percy tried to talk him out of it, but the years had weighed on Briares. He turned and trudged off down the corridor, until he was lost in the shadows.

Tyson sobbed.

"It's okay." Grover hesitantly patted his shoulder, which must've taken all his courage.

Tyson sneezed. "It's not okay, goat bot. He was my hero."

Naomi wished she could find something to say, but what do you tell someone when they realize their hero wasn't as heroic as they'd always thought?

Finally, Annabeth stood and shouldered her backpack. "Come on, guys. This pit is making me nervous. Let's find a better place to camp for the night."

They settled in a corridor made of huge marble blocks. It looked like it could've been part of a Greek tomb, with bronze torch holders fastened to the walls. It had to be an older part of the maze, and Annabeth decided it was a good sign.

"We must be close to Daedalus's workshop," she said. "Get some rest, everybody. We'll keep going in the morning."

"How do we know when it's morning?" Grover asked.

"Just rest," she insisted.

Grover didn't need to be told twice. He pulled a heap of straw out of his pack, ate some of it, made a pillow out of the rest, and was snoring in no time. Tyson took longer getting to sleep. He tinkered with some metal scraps from his building kit for a while, but whatever he was making, he wasn't happy with it. He kept disassembling the pieces.

Naomi settled down next to Annabeth, who was taking first watch.

As tired as Naomi was, she wasn't sure she could fall asleep—or if she even wanted to. She feared what would happen if she had another nightmare and woke up to more darkness. Gods only knew how much more fear her heart could take before it just gave out.

She leaned her head on Annabeth's shoulder. "You'll figure it out," she murmured, already knowing what the tense silence from Annabeth meant.

"What if I don't?" Annabeth whispered.

"Then it's impossible," Naomi said softly. "If you can't figure it out, it can't be figured out."

Annabeth sighed, leaning her head against the top of Naomi's.

A few minutes later, Percy sat down on Annabeth's other side.

"You guys should sleep," Annabeth said, though she didn't sound too insistent.

"Can't," Perc said. "You doing all right?"

"Sure," Annabeth mumbled. "First day leading the quest. Just great."

"We'll get there," Percy said. "We'll find the workshop before Luke does."

"I just wish the quest was logical," she complained. "I mean, we're traveling but we have no idea where we'll end up. How can you walk from New York to California in a day?"

"Space isn't the same in the maze."

"I know, I know. It's just..." Annabeth sighed in defeat. "I was kidding myself. All that planning and reading—I don't have a clue where we're going."

"You're doing great," Percy said. "Besides, we never know what we're doing. It always works out. Remember Circe's island?"

Annabeth snorted. "You made a cute guinea pig."

"And Waterland, how you got us thrown off that ride?"

"That was your fault," Naomi argued.

"See?" Percy said. "It'll be fine."

Annabeth must have smiled—the air seemed to get warmer, though it might have just been Naomi's imagination.

"Percy, what did Hera mean when she said you knew the way to get through the maze?" Annabeth asked after a moment.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Honestly."

"You'd tell me if you did?"

"Sure. Maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe if you told me the last line of the prophecy, it would help."

Annabeth shivered. "Not here. Not in the dark."

"What about the choice Janus mentioned? Hera said—"

"Stop," Annabeth snapped. Then she took a shaky breath. "I'm sorry, Percy. I'm just stressed. But I don't... I've got to think about it."

They sat in silence, listening to the strange creaks and groans in the maze, the echo of stones grinding together as tunnels changed, grew and expanded. The dark made Naomi think about the visions she'd seen of Nico, and then she realized something.

"Nico is down here," she said. "That's how he disappeared from camp. He found the Labyrinth. Then he found a path that led down even further—to the Underworld. But now he's back in the maze."

Annabeth and Percy were both quiet for a long time.

"Nay, I hope you're wrong," Annabeth finally said. "But if you're right about this ritual he wants to do..." She stared at the flashlight beam casting a dim circle on the stone wall. Naomi had a feeling she was thinking about her prophecy. She'd never seen her look so... tired.

"How about I take first watch?" Percy offered. "I'll wake you guys up if anything happens."

Annabeth looked like she wanted to protest, and she just nodded, slumped onto her bedroll and closed her eyes.

Naomi laid down as well. She wasn't sure what awaited her in dreamland, but she prayed it wouldn't end with her screaming awake.

Sleep came for her quicker than usual, and then she was falling once more.

It was the same darkness—the same endless, horrifying darkness, as if the world had disappeared.

Naomi wondered if this was what Chaos looked like. Was this what the universe had been before the world came into being? Before Gaea and Erebus and Ouranos were born out of nothing and created the world Naomi knew?

She loathed to think it. How lonely it must have been, to be the nothingness that the world came from. But how incredible, too—to be the abyss from which life first sprang into being.

But this—this wasn't Chaos. It wasn't nothingness. Just pure, inescapable darkness.

"Hello?" Naomi's voice didn't echo—it never did, as if there were no walls for the soundwaves to bounce off of. Her voice just faded into nothing, drifting away like it was carried off by the wind. But there was no wind down here; no heat or cold, no sound, nothing.

Just darkness.

The usual panic seized Naomi's heart. No matter how many nights she dreamed of this place, it was as if the memory was lost, and she was here for the first time, terrified and alone and pleading for rescue.

"Hello?" Naomi called again, almost screaming. "Please, is someone there?"

There was never an answer—never any indication that Naomi wasn't completely, totally alone.

Until tonight.

Komori.

It was the same voice from before—the same soft, masculine tone.

"Who's there?" Naomi asked. She took a step forward—at least, she thought she did. She couldn't tell, though. The ground was still just as smooth beneath her bare feet. There was no way to judge if she'd even moved, or if she'd just thought of moving.

Komori, the voice repeated. Come.

Naomi wasn't a fool, and she wasn't always naïve, even if others might disagree, so she didn't move from her spot.

"Who are you?" she demanded again.

You know me.

"No, I don't!" Naomi protested. "Where am I?"

Right where you are meant to be.

"That doesn't make any sense!" she protested.

It will, the voice promised. Your time is coming.

Naomi hated how ominous that sounded. Her time—did that mean her death? Was the voice that of a monster, waiting for her to step into his territory, to tear her to pieces and render her nothing more than a memory, a name to be carved into some gravestone, forgotten in a few years when greater heroes than her fell?

But the voice didn't sound threatening. It was gentle, a sharp contrast to the frightening darkness all around her. Maybe that was the point—maybe the monster was luring her into a false sense of security, pulling her closer, until there would be no escaping his clutches, just as there would be no escaping this darkness.

Rest, komori, the voice whispered. You will need your strength.

The suffocating darkness fell away, leaving only sleep in its place.

There was no morning in the maze, but once everyone woke up and had a gourmet breakfast of granola bars and juice boxes, they kept moving. Naomi spent much of the journey tapping her thigh anxiously, as if the act could dispel some of the anxious energy her dream had left her with. It was only partially successful.

The old stone tunnels changed to earth with cedar beams, like a gold mine or something. Annabeth started getting agitated.

"This isn't right," she said. "It should still be stone."

They came to a cave where stalactites hung low from the ceiling. In the center of the dirt floor was a rectangular pit, like a grave.

Grover shivered. "It smells like the Underworld in here."

Then Naomi saw something glinting at the edge of the pit—a foil wrapper. She shone her flashlight into the hole and saw a half-chewed cheeseburger floating in brown carbonated muck.

"Nico," she realized. "He was summoning the dead again."

Tyson whimpered, moving closer to Naomi. "Ghosts were here. I don't like ghosts."

"We've got to find him." Naomi wasn't sure why, but standing at the edge of that pit filled her with a sense of urgency. Nico was close, she could feel it. She couldn't let him wander around down here, alone save for the dead. Not when she was right there.

She started to run.

"Naomi!" Annabeth called after her.

Naomi ducked into a tunnel and saw light up ahead. By the time the others caught up to her, she was staring at daylight streaming through a set of bars above her head. They were under a steel grate made of metal pipes. Through the bars she could see trees and crystal clear skies.

"Where are we?" Percy wondered.

Then a shadow fell across the grate and a cow stared down at them. It looked like a normal cow except it was bright red, like a cherry. Naomi didn't know much about livestock, but she was fairly certain normal cows didn't come in shades of red.

The cow mooed, put one hoof tentatively on the bars, then backed away.

"It's a cattle grid," Grover said.

"A what?" Percy asked.

"They put them at the gates of ranches so cows can't get out. They can't walk on them."

"How do you know that?"

Grover huffed indignantly. "Believe me, if you had hooves, you'd know about cattle guards. They're annoying!"

"Didn't Hera say something about a ranch?" Percy said. "We need to check it out. Nico might be there."

Annabeth hesitated. "All right. But how do we get out?"

Tyson solved the problem by hitting the cattle grid with both hands. It popped off and went flying out of sight. There was a CLANG! and a startled "Moo!"

Tyson blushed. "Sorry, cow!"

Then he gave everyone a boost out of the tunnel.

They were on a ranch, all right. Rolling hills stretched to the horizon, dotted with oak trees and cacti and boulders. A barbed-wire fence ran from the gate in either direction. Cherry-colored cows roamed around, grazing on clumps of grass.

"Red cattle," Annabeth said. "The cattle of the sun."

"What?" Percy asked.

"They're sacred to Apollo."

"Holy cows?"

"Exactly. But what are they doing—"

"Wait," Grover said. "Listen."

At first everything seemed quiet... then Naomi heard it: the distant baying of dogs. The sound got louder. Then the underbrush rustled, and two dogs broke through. No, not two dogs—one dog with two heads. It looked like a greyhound, long and snaky and sleek brown, but its neck V'ed into two heads, both of them snapping and snarling and generally not very happy to see the quest group.

"Bad Janus dog!" Tyson cried.

"Arf!" Grover told it, and raised a hand in greeting.

The two-headed dog bared its teeth, apparently unimpressed that Grover could speak animal. Then its master lumbered out of the woods, and Naomi realized the dog was the least of their problems.

He was a huge guy with stark white hair, a straw cowboy hat, and a braided white beard. He was wearing jeans, a Don't Mess with Texas t-shirt, and a denim jacket with the sleeves ripped off to expose his muscles. On his right bicep was a crossed-swords tattoo. He held a wooden club about the size of a nuclear warhead, with six-inch spikes bristling at the business end.

"Heel, Orthus," he told the dog.

The dog growled at them once more—just to make sure the teenagers knew they were already on his bad side—then circled back to his master's feet. The man looked the questers up and down, keeping his club ready.

"What've we got here?" he asked. "Cattle rustlers?"

"Just travelers," Annabeth said. "We're on a quest."

The man's eye twitched. "Half-bloods, eh?"

Percy started to say, "How did you know—"

Annabeth put her hand on his arm. "I'm Annabeth, daughter of Athena. This is Percy, son of Poseidon. Naomi, daughter of Persephone. Grover the satyr. Tyson the—"

"Cyclops," the man finished. "Yes, I can see that." He glowered at Percy. "And I know half-bloods because I am one, sonny. I'm Eurytion, the cowherd for this here ranch. Son of Ares. You came through the Labyrinth like the other one, I reckon."

"The other one?" Naomi asked. "You mean Nico di Angelo?"

"We get a load of visitors from the Labyrinth," Eurytion said darkly. "Not many ever leave."

"Wow," Percy said. "I feel welcome."

The cowherd glanced behind him like someone was watching. Then he lowered his voice. "I'm only going to say this once, demigods. Get back in the maze now. Before it's too late."

"We're not leaving," Annabeth insisted. "Not until we see this other demigod. Please."

Eurytion grunted. "Then you leave me no choice, missy. I've got to take you to the boss."

Naomi couldn't tell if they were hostages or not. Eurytion walked alongside them with his club over his shoulder. Orthus the two-headed dog growled a lot and sniffed at Grover's legs and shot into the bushes once in a while to chase animals, but Eurytion kept him more or less under control.

They walked down a dirt path that seemed to go on forever. It must've been about a hundred degrees. Heat shimmered off the ground. Insects buzzed in the trees. Before they'd gone very far, Naomi was sweating like crazy. Flies swarmed them. Every so often they'd see a pen full of red cows or even stranger animals. Once they passed a corral where the fence was coated in asbestos. Inside, a herd of fire-breathing horses milled around. The hay in their feeding trough was on fire. The ground smoked around their feet, but the horses seemed tame enough.

"What are they for?" Percy asked.

Eurytion scowled. "We raise animals for lots of clients. Apollo, Diomedes, and... others."

"Like who?"

"No more questions."

Finally they came out of the woods. Perched on a hill above us was a big ranch house—all white stone and wood and big windows.

"It looks like a Frank Lloyd Wright!" Annabeth said.

Naomi wasn't sure what that was, but Annabeth seemed excited.

They hiked up the hill.

"Don't break the rules," Eurytion warned as they walked up the steps to the front porch. "No fighting. No drawing weapons. And don't make any comments about the boss's appearance."

"Why?" Percy asked. "What does he look like?"

Before Eurytion could reply, a new voice said, "Welcome to the Triple G Ranch."

The man on the porch was... surprising. His face was weathered and brown from years in the sun. He had slick black hair and a black pencil mustache like a villain from some old movie. He smiled at them, but it was decidedly more sinister than friendly.

Naomi didn't think hard on his smile though, because that's when she noticed his body... well, bodies. He had three of them. His neck connected to the middle chest like normal, but he had two more chests on either side, connected at the shoulders, with a few inches in between. His left arm grew out of his left chest, and the same on the right, so he had two arms, but four armpits. The chests all connected into one enormous torso, with two regular but very thick legs, and he wore the most oversized pair of jeans Naomi had ever seen. His chests each wore a different color Western shirt—green, yellow, red, like a stoplight. Naomi wondered how he dressed the middle, since it had no arms.

Eurytion nudged Percy. "Say hello to Mr. Geryon."

"Hi," Percy said. "Nice chests—uh, ranch! Nice ranch you have."

Before the three-bodied man could respond, Nico di Angelo came out of the glass doors onto the porch. "Geryon, I won't wait for—"

He froze when he saw the quest group. Then he drew his sword—Stygian iron, just like Asphodel, but a tad longer.

Geryon snarled when he saw it. "Put that away, Mr. di Angelo. I ain't gonna have my guests killin' each other."

"But that's—"

"Percy Jackson," Geryon supplied. "Naomi Murphy. Annabeth Chase. And a couple of their monster friends. Yes, I know."

"Monster friends?" Grover said indignantly.

"I go by Sakura now, actually," Naomi corrected.

"That man is wearing three shirts," Tyson said, like he was just realizing this.

"They let my sister die!" Nico's voice trembled with rage. "They're here to kill me!"

"Nico, we're not here to kill you," Naomi insisted. She held her hands up. "What happened to Bianca was—"

"Don't speak her name!" Nico shouted. "You're not worthy to even talk about her!"

"Wait a minute." Annabeth pointed at Geryon. "How do you know our names?"

The three-bodied man winked. "I make it my business to keep informed, darlin'. Everybody pops into the ranch from time to time. Everyone needs something from ole Geryon. Now, Mr. di Angelo, put that ugly sword away before I have Eurytion take it from you."

Eurytion sighed, but he hefted his spiked club. At his feet, Orthus growled.

Nico hesitated. He looked thinner and paler than he had in the Iris-messages. Naomi wondered when the last time he'd eaten was. His black clothes were dusty from traveling in the Labyrinth, and his dark eyes were full of hate. He was too young to look so angry. Naomi still remembered the cheerful little kid who played Mythomagic and couldn't wait to learn how to swordfight.

Reluctantly, he sheathed his sword. "If either of you come near me," he hissed, glaring at Naomi and Percy, "I'll summon help. You don't want to meet my helpers, I promise."

"I believe you," Percy said.

Geryon patted Nico's shoulder. "There, we've all made nice. Now come along, folks. I want to give you a tour of the ranch."

Chapter 75: x. we are (not) family

Chapter Text

GERYON HAD SOME KIND OF TROLLEY—like those kiddie trains that take you around zoos. It was painted black and white like a cow's hide. The driver's car had a set of longhorns stuck to the hood, and the horn sounded like a cowbell.

Nico sat in the very back, probably to keep an eye on his self-declared enemies. Eurytion crawled in next to him with his spiked club and pulled his cowboy hat over his eyes like he was going to take a nap. Orthus jumped in the front seat next to Geryon and began barking happily in two-part harmony.

Naomi and her friends took the middle two cars.

"We have a huge operation!" Geryon boasted as the moo-mobile lurched forward. "Horses and cattle mostly, but all sorts of exotic varieties, too."

They came over a hill, and Annabeth gasped. "Hippalektryons? I thought they were extinct!"

At the bottom of the hill was a fenced-in pasture with a dozen of the strangest animals Naomi had ever seen. Each had the front half of a horse and the back half of a rooster. Their rear feet were huge yellow claws. They had feathery tails and red wings. As Naomi watched, two of them got in a fight over a seed. They reared up on their back legs and whinnied and flapped their wings at each other until the smaller one galloped away, its rear bird-legs putting a little hop in its step.

"Rooster ponies," Tyson said in amazement. "Do they lay eggs?"

"Once a year!" Geryon grinned in the rearview mirror. "Very much in demand for omelets!"

"That's horrible!" Annabeth said. "They must be an endangered species!"

Geryon waved his hand. "Gold is gold, darling. And you haven't tasted the omelets."

"That's not right," Grover murmured, but Geryon just kept narrating the tour.

"Now, over here," he said, "we have our fire-breathing horses, which you may have seen on your way in. They're bred for war, naturally."

"What war?" Percy asked.

Geryon grinned slyly. "Oh, whichever one comes along. And over yonder, of course, are our prize red cows."

Sure enough, hundreds of the cherry-colored cattle were grazing the side of the hill.

"So many," Grover said.

"Yes, well, Apollo is too busy to see them," Geryon explained, "so he subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously because there's such a demand."

"For what?" Naomi asked.

Geryon raised an eyebrow. "Meat, of course! Armies have to eat."

"You kill the sacred cows of the sun god for hamburger meat?" Grover said. "That's against the ancient laws!"

"Oh, don't get so worked up, satyr. They're just animals."

"Just animals!"

"Yes, and if Apollo cared, I'm sure he would tell us."

"If he knew," Percy muttered.

Nico sat forward. "I don't care about any of this, Geryon. We had business to discuss, and this wasn't it!"

"All in good time, Mr. di Angelo. Look over here; some of my exotic game."

The next field was ringed in barbed wire. The whole area was crawling with giant scorpions.

"Triple G Ranch," Percy said. "Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you."

"Quintus..." Geryon mused. "Short gray hair, muscular, swordsman?"

"Yeah."

"Never heard of him," Geryon said. "Now, over here are my prize stables! You must see them."

Naomi didn't need to see them, because as soon as they got within three hundred yards she started to smell them. Near the banks of a green river was a horse corral the size of a football field. Stables lined one side of it. About a hundred horses were milling around in the muck.

Naomi slapped a hand over her nose and mouth. "I'm gonna be sick."

Even Nico gagged. "What is that?"

"My stables!" Geryon said. "Well, actually they belong to Aegas, but we watch over them for a small monthly fee. Aren't they lovely?"

"They're disgusting!" Annabeth said.

"Lots of poop," Tyson observed.

"How can you keep animals like that?" Grover cried.

"Y'all getting on my nerves," Geryon said. "These are flesh-eating horses, see? They like these conditions."

"Plus, you're too cheap to have them cleaned," Eurytion mumbled from under his hat.

"Quiet!" Geryon snapped. "All right, perhaps the stables are a bit challenging to clean. Perhaps they do make me nauseous when the wind blows the wrong way. But so what? My clients still pay me well."

"What clients?" Percy demanded.

"Oh, you'd be surprised how many people will pay for a flesh-eating horse. They make great garbage disposals. Wonderful way to terrify your enemies. Great at birthday parties! We rent them out all the time."

"You're a monster," Annabeth decided.

Geryon stopped the moo-mobile and turned to look at her. "What gave it away? Was it the three bodies?"

"You have to let these animals go," Grover said. "It's not right!"

"And the clients you keep talking about," Annabeth said. "You work for Kronos, don't you? You're supplying his army with horses, food, whatever they need."

Geryon shrugged, which was very weird since he had three sets of shoulders. It looked like he was doing the wave all by himself. "I work for anyone with gold, young lady. I'm a businessman. And I sell them anything I have to offer."

He climbed out of the moo-mobile and strolled toward the stables as if enjoying the fresh air. It would've been a nice view, with the river and the trees and hills and all, except for the quagmire of horse muck.

Nico got out of the back car and stormed over to Geryon. The cowherd Eurytion wasn't as sleepy as he looked. He hefted his club and walked after Nico.

"I came here for business, Geryon," Nico said. "And you haven't answered me."

"Mmm." Geryon examined a cactus. His left arm reached over and scratched his middle-chest. "Yes, you'll get a deal, all right."

"My ghost told me you could help. He said you could guide us to the soul we need."

"Wait a second," Naomi said. "I thought I was the soul you wanted."

Nico looked at her like she was crazy. "You? Why would I want you? Bianca's soul is worth a thousand of yours!"

"Okay, first of all, ouch," Naomi mumbled. "I can't tell whether I should be relieved or offended."

Nico rolled his eyes at her—a childish thing to do, though given the fact that he was a kid, it was understandable. He turned back to the three-bodied animal abuser. "Now, can you help me, Geryon, or not?"

"Oh, I imagine I could," the rancher said. "Your ghost friend, by the way, where is he?"

Nico looked uneasy. "He can't form in broad daylight. It's hard for him. But he's around somewhere."

Geryon smiled. "I'm sure. Minos likes to disappear when things get... difficult."

"Minos?" Percy asked. "You mean that evil king? That's the ghost who's been giving you advice?"

"It's none of your business, Percy!" Nico turned back to Geryon. "And what do you mean about things getting difficult?"

The three-bodied man sighed. "Well, you see, Nico—can I call you Nico?"

"No."

"You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering very good money for half-bloods. Especially powerful half-bloods. And I'm sure when he learns your little secret, who you really are, he'll pay very, very well indeed."

Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion knocked it out of his hand. Before Naomi could get up, Orthus jumped into the car and pounced on Percy's chest, growling.

"I would stay in the car, all of you," Geryon warned. "Or Orthus will tear Mr. Jackson's throat out. Now, Eurytion, if you would be so kind, secure Nico and the Persephone girl."

Naomi wasn't even surprised at this point. Annoyed, but not surprised. She'd gotten used to kidnapping attempts, unfortunately.

The cowherd spit into the grass. "Do I have to?"

"Yes, you fool!"

Eurytion looked bowed, but he wrapped one huge arm around Nico and lifted him up like a wrestler. Naomi fought against instincts, leaving her swords in their ring form as the son of Ares hauled her out of the car by the arm. He'd just disarm her or sic Orthus on Percy. If she kept her weapons hidden, it'd give her an advantage.

Of course, there was one crucial detail Naomi forgot—Eurytion was a son of Ares.

He held out a hand. "Rings."

Naomi stared at him. "Uh—why?"

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I know weapons when I see them," he said. He bent his fingers in an impatient motion. "Rings, now, or your friend's my dog's lunch."

Naomi bit back a few choice words, slipping her rings off and put them in his hand. She half-hoped Asphodel would do something crazy like turn him into dust at the touch, but apparently, Stygian iron was only dangerous in actual weapon form.

He slid the rings into his pocket.

"Pick up the sword, too," Geryon said with distaste.

Eurytion looked at him. "My hands are a bit full at the moment, sir."

"Figure it out!"

Eurytion sighed. "Stay put or your friend bites it," he told Naomi, letting go of her arm to pick up Nico's sword—careful not to touch the blade itself.

Naomi glared at him, but decided it was better not to risk Percy getting his throat ripped out.

"Now," Geryon said cheerfully, "we've had the tour. Let's go back to the lodge, have some lunch, and send an Iris-message to our friends in the Titan army."

"You fiend!" Annabeth cried. "Let Naomi go!"

Geryon smiled at her. "Don't worry, my dear. Once I've delivered Mr. di Angelo and Miss Murphy, you and the rest of your party can go. I don't interfere with quests any more than I have to. Besides, I've been paid well to give you safe passage, which does not, I'm afraid, include Mr. di Angelo and Miss Murphy."

"Again, it's Sakura, not Murphy," Naomi huffed, but she was ignored.

"Paid by whom?" Annabeth said. "What do you mean?"

"Never you mind, darlin'. Let's be off, shall we?"

"Wait!" Percy said, and Orthus growled. He stayed perfectly still as he continued, "Geryon, you said you're a businessman. Make me a deal."

Geryon narrowed his eyes. "What sort of deal? Do you have gold?"

"I've got something better. Barter."

"But Mr. Jackson, you've got nothing."

"You could have him clean the stables," Eurytion suggested innocently.

"I'll do it!" Percy said. "If I fail, you get all of us. Trade us all to Luke for gold."

"Assuming the horses don't eat you," Geryon observed.

"Either way, you get my friends," Percy said. "But if I succeed, you've got to let all of us go, including Naomi and Nico."

"No!" Nico screamed. "Don't do me any favors, Percy. I don't want your help!"

"You're really going to argue with someone who's trying to save your life?" Naomi demanded.

"Someone who got my sister killed?" Nico shot back. "Yeah, I am."

Naomi was really starting to understand why Bianca was so ready to join the Hunt, but she kept her mouth shut.

Geryon chuckled. "Percy Jackson, those stables haven't been cleaned in a thousand years... though it's true I might be able to sell more stable space if all that poop was cleared away."

"So what have you got to lose?"

The rancher hesitated. "All right, I'll accept your offer, but you have to get it done by sunset. If you fail, your friends get sold, and I get rich."

"Deal."

He nodded. "I'm going to take your friends with me, back to the lodge. We'll wait for you there."

Eurytion whistled, and the dog jumped off Percy and onto Annabeth's lap. She yelped. Naomi knew Tyson and Grover would never try anything as long as Annabeth was a hostage.

Percy got out of the car.

Geryon got behind the driver's wheel. Eurytion hauled Nico and Naomi into the back seat.

"Sunset," Geryon reminded Percy. "No later."

He laughed once more, sounded his cowbell horn, and the trolley rumbled off down the trail.

Naomi considered herself to be a relatively patient person—it took quite a bit to get her angry, and even when she did get mad, it didn't last very long.

But Nico seemed to be a special case.

"Nico, if you would just listen for one second—"

"I'm not going to listen to the girl who got my sister killed," Nico spat. "I'd rather eat glass."

"First of all, that's really overdramatic," Naomi said, trying to contain her annoyance. "Second, it's not like I wanted Bianca to—"

"Don't speak her name!"

"I get that I didn't know her that long, but she was still my friend!" Naomi yelled at him.

"She was my sister!" Nico shouted. "And you let her die!"

"I didn't let her do anything!" Naomi argued. "I tried to stop her! You think I wanted her to die? She was my friend—"

"And you got her killed!"

"Sheesh," Geryon said. "And I thought me and my sister fought a lot."

"She is not my sister!" Nico snapped.

"I mean, technically y'all are step-siblings, right?" Geryon said. He started seasoning the ribs and burgers he'd gotten out of the fridge a few moments ago. "Or did Persephone and Hades get divorced and I didn't hear about it? 'Cause if Persephone's single now..."

Naomi grimaced. "Gross. That's my mom."

"It doesn't count," Nico spat. "I'm not going to call my sister's killer family."

Naomi let out a frustrated noise. "For the last time, I did not kill Bi—"

"Don't say it!"

"If my hands weren't tied right now I swear to the gods—"

"See! You are trying to kill me!"

"I'm considering it!"

Geryon sighed. "As entertaining as this is, all this bickering is giving me a headache," he said. "Eurytion?"

The ranch hand sighed, standing up.

A minute later, Naomi and her companions were gagged.

Naomi glared at Nico. This is your fault, she grumbled, her voice muffled by the gag.

Nico just glared back.

The sun was almost completely gone by the time Percy came running up the porch. When he saw his friends, he yelled, "Let them go! I cleaned the stables!"

Geryon turned. "Did you, now? How'd you manage it?"

Percy glared at him, but he told the story.

Geryon nodded appreciatively. "Very ingenious. It would've been better if you'd poisoned that pesky naiad, but no matter."

"Let my friends go," Percy said. "We had a deal."

"Ah, I've been thinking about that. The problem is, if I let them go, I don't get paid."

"You promised!"

Geryon made a tsk-tsk noise. "But did you make me swear on the River Styx? No you didn't. So it's not binding. When you're conducting business, sonny, you should always get a binding oath."

Percy drew his sword. Orthus growled. One head leaned down next to Grover's ear and bared its fangs.

"Eurytion," Geryon said, "the boy is starting to annoy me. Kill him."

Eurytion studied Percy. After a moment, he looked at his boss. "Kill him yourself."

Geryon raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Eurytion grumbled. "You keep sending me out to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no good reason, and I'm getting tired of dying for you. You want to fight the kid, do it yourself."

It was the most un-Ares-like thing Naomi had ever heard a child of Ares say.

Geryon threw down his spatula. "You dare defy me? I should fire you right now!"

"And who'd take care of your cattle? Orthus, heel."

The dog immediately stopped growling at Grover and came to sit by the cowherd's feet.

"Fine!" Geryon snarled. "I'll deal with you later, after the boy is dead!"

He picked up two carving knives and threw them at Percy, who deflected one with his sword, the other impaling itself in the picnic table an inch from Eurytion's hand.

Percy went on the offensive. Geryon parried the first strike with a pair of red-hot tongs and lunged at Percy's face with a barbeque fork. Percy got inside his next thrust and stabbed him right through the middle chest.

"Aghhh!" Geryon crumpled to his knees. Naomi waited for him to disintegrate, but instead he only grimaced and began to stand back up. The bleeding slice through his chef's apron began to heal.

"Nice try, sonny," he said. "Thing is, I have three hearts. The perfect backup system."

He tipped over the barbeque, and coals spilled everywhere. Naomi wasn't sure what good it would do, but instincts made her raise her bound hands, a wall of shadows forming in front of herself and her friends. Naomi heard a dozen tiny hits, the shadow-wall blocking the coals.

Nico looked at her, for once not glaring. "How did you do that?"

Naomi shrugged. "It's an Underworld-kid thing."

He scowled. "I don't know how to do that."

"I've been doing this a little longer than you," Naomi pointed out.

His scowl deepened with annoyance.

The shadow-wall disintegrated, and Naomi saw Percy jab Geryon in the left chest. The monster only laughed. Percy stuck him in the right stomach—no good. Geryon didn't even flinch.

Percy ran into the house.

"Coward!" Geryon cried. "Come back and die right!"

He disappeared into the house after Percy. There was some yelling (mostly Geryon boasting), then silence.

Percy came back out unscathed, thank the gods. Geryon didn't follow.

Eurytion didn't try to stop Percy as he untied his friends.

"Yay for Percy!" Tyson cried.

"Can we tie up this cowherd now?" Nico asked.

"Yeah!" Grover agreed. "And that dog almost killed me!"

Percy looked at Eurytion, who looked unbothered. Orthus had both his heads on the cowherd's knees.

"How long will it take Geryon to reform?" Percy asked.

Eurytion shrugged. "Hundred years? He's not one of those fast re-formers, thank the gods. You've done me a favor."

"You said you'd died for him before," Percy remembered. "How?"

"I've worked for that creep for thousands of years. Started as a regular half-blood, but I chose immortality when my dad offered it. Worst mistake I ever made. Now I'm stuck here at this ranch. I can't leave. I can't quit. I just tend the cows and fight Geryon's fights. We're kinda tied together."

"Maybe you can change things," Percy said.

Eurytion narrowed his eyes. "How?"

"Be nice to the animals. Take care of them. Stop selling them for food. And stop dealing with the Titans."

Eurytion thought about that. "That'd be alright."

"Get the animals on your side, and they'll help you. Once Geryon gets back, maybe he'll be working for you this time."

Eurytion grinned. "Now, that I could live with."

"You won't try to stop us leaving?"

"Shoot, no."

Annabeth rubbed her bruised wrists. She was still looking at Eurytion suspiciously. "Your boss said somebody paid for our safe passage. Who?"

The cowherd shrugged. "Maybe he was just saying that to fool you."

"What about the Titans?" Percy asked. "Did you Iris-message them about Nico yet?"

"Nope. Geryon was waiting until after the barbecue. They don't know about him."

Nico was glaring at Percy like he was still debating running him through with his sword. Naomi doubted he'd ever agree to come with them, but she couldn't just let him roam around on his own.

"You should stay here until we're done with our quest," Naomi told him. "It would be safe."

"Safe?" Nico said. "What do you care if I'm safe? You and Percy got my sister killed!"

"Nico," Annabeth said, "that wasn't their fault. And Geryon wasn't lying about Kronos wanting to capture you. If he knew who you were, he'd do anything to get you on his side."

"I'm not on anyone's side. And I'm not afraid."

"You should be," Annabeth said. "Your sister wouldn't want—"

"If you cared for my sister, you'd help me bring her back!"

"A soul for a soul?" Naomi said.

"Yes!"

"But if you didn't want my soul—"

"I'm not explaining anything to you!" He blinked tears out of his eyes."And I will bring her back."

"Bianca wouldn't want to be brought back, Nico," Naomi said, praying he would listen. "Not like that."

"You didn't know her!" he shouted. "How do you know what she'd want?"

Naomi stared at the flames in the barbeque pit. She thought about the line in Annabeth's prophecy: You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand. That had to be Minos, and they had to convince Nico not to listen to him.

She steeled herself. "Let's ask Bianca."

The sky seemed to grow darker all of a sudden.

"I've tried," Nico said miserably. "She won't answer."

"Try again," Naomi said softly. "I think she'll answer with me here."

"Why would she?"

"Because she's been sending me Iris-messages," Naomi said, sure it was the truth. "She's been trying to warn me what you're up to, so I can protect you."

Nico shook his head. "That's impossible."

"One way to find out. You said you're not afraid." She turned to Eurytion. "We're going to need a pit—like a grave. And food and drinks."

"Naomi," Annabeth warned. "I don't think this is a good—"

"All right," Nico said. "I'll try."

Eurytion scratched his beard. "There's a hole dug out back for a septic tank. We could use that. Cyclops boy, fetch my ice chest from the kitchen. I hope the dead like root beer."

Chapter 76: xi. a final family reunion

Chapter Text

THEY DID THEIR SUMMONS AFTER DARK, at a twenty-foot-long pit in front of the bright-yellow septic tank. Not exactly the best décor for summoning the dead, but Naomi hoped ghosts still kept their senses of humor after death.

The moon was full. Silver clouds drifted across the sky.

"Minos should be here by now," Nico said, frowning. "It's full dark."

"Maybe he got lost," Percy said, sounding hopeful.

Nico poured root beer and tossed barbeque into the pit, then began chanting in Ancient Greek. Immediately the bugs in the woods stopped chirping. Naomi's Stygian iron ring (which Eurytion had so graciously returned) grew colder against her finger.

"Make him stop," Naomi heard Tyson whisper to Percy.

The first spirits appeared. Sulfurous mist seeped out of the ground. Shadows thickened into human forms. One blue shade drifted to the edge of the pit and knelt to drink.

"Stop him!" Nico said, momentarily breaking his chant. "Only Bianca may drink!"

Naomi summoned Asphodel. The ghosts retreated with a collective hiss at the sight of the dark blade, but it was too late to stop the first spirit. He had already solidified into the shape of a bearded man in white robes. A circlet of gold wreathed his head, and even in death his eyes were alive with malice.

"Minos!" Nico said. "What are you doing?"

"My apologies, master," the ghost said, though he didn't sound very sorry. "The sacrifice smelled so good, I couldn't resist." He examined his own hands and smiled. "It is good to see myself again. Almost in solid form—"

"You are disrupting the ritual!" Nico protested. "Get—"

The spirits of the dead began to shimmer dangerously bright, and Nico had to take up the chant again to keep them at bay.

"Yes, quite right, master," Minos said with amusement. "You keep chanting. I've only come to protect you from these liars who would deceive you."

He looked at Percy like he was some kind of rodent (something he'd only been one time, mind you). "Percy Jackson... my, my. The sons of Poseidon haven't improved much over the centuries, have they?"

Naomi scowled at the ghost. "We're looking for Bianca di Angelo," she said. "Get out of here."

Minos ignored her, still focused on Percy. "I understand you once killed my Minotaur with your bare hands. But worse things await you in the maze. Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?"

The other spirits stirred in agitation. Naomi summoned Hemlock as well, holding both swords out and pointed at the spirits, keeping them at bay.

"Daedalus cares nothing for you, half-bloods," Minos warned. "You can't trust him. He is old beyond counting, and crafty. He is bitter from the guilt of murder and is cursed by the gods."

"The guilt of murder?" Percy asked. "Who did he kill?"

"Do not change the subject!" the ghost growled. "You are hindering Nico. You try to persuade him to give up on his goal. I would make him alord!"

"Enough, Minos," Nico commanded.

The ghost sneered. "Master, these are your enemies. You must not listen to them! Let me protect you. I will turn their minds to madness, as I did the others."

"The others?" Annabeth gasped. "You mean Chris Rodriguez? That was you?"

"The maze is my property," the ghost said, "not Daedalus's! Those who intrude deserve madness."

"Be gone, Minos!" Nico demanded. "I want to see my sister!"

The ghost bit back his rage. "As you wish, master. But I warn you. You cannot trust these heroes."

With that, he faded into mist once more.

Other spirits rushed forward, but Percy and Annabeth helped Naomi keep them back.

"Bianca, appear!" Nico intoned. He started chanting faster, and the spirits shifted restlessly.

"Any time now," Grover muttered behind them.

Then a silvery light flickered in the trees—a spirit that seemed brighter and stronger than the others. It came closer, and Naomi let it pass. It knelt to drink at the pit.

When it arose, it was the ghostly form of Bianca di Angelo.

Nico's chanting faltered. Naomi lowered her swords. The other spirits started to crowd forward, but Bianca raised her arms and they retreated into the woods.

"Hello, Naomi," she said. "Percy."

She looked the same as she had in life: a green cap set sideways on her thick black hair, dark eyes and olive skin like her brother. She wore jeans and a silvery jacket, the outfit of a Hunter of Artemis. A bow was slung over her shoulder. She smiled faintly, and her whole form flickered.

Naomi could hardly find her voice. "Bianca." Her voice was thick with guilt and grief. She remembered the horrific drop in her stomach, that horrible knowledge that Bianca had left the world. If she had only said something, if only she'd understood what that feeling meant—

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Naomi," Bianca said. "No one here does. I made my choice. I don't regret it."

"Bianca!" Nico stumbled forward like he was coming out of a daze.

Bianca turned toward her brother. Her expression was sad, as if she'd been dreading this moment. "Hello, Nico. You've gotten so tall."

"Why didn't you answer me sooner?" he cried. "I've been trying for months!"

"I was hoping you would give up."

"Give up?" He sounded heartbroken. "How can you say that? I'm trying to save you!"

"You can't, Nico. Don't do this. Naomi is right."

"No! She let you die! She's not your friend."

Bianca stretched out her hand as if to touch her brother's face, but she was made only of mist. Her hand evaporated as it got close to living skin.

"You must listen to me," she said. "Holding grudges is dangerous for a child of Hades. It is our fatal flaw. You have to forgive. You have to promise me this."

"I can't. Never."

"Naomi has been worried about you, Nico," Bianca said softly. "She's your family. She can help."

"She's not my family!" Nico yelled. "You are!"

Part of Naomi thought she should be offended, but it wasn't possible—not when Nico's grief was so heavy in the air, so thick Naomi felt like she could choke on it.

"She is, too," Bianca murmured. "I let her see what you were up to, hoping she would find you."

"So it was you," Naomi said softly. "You sent those Iris-messages."

Bianca nodded.

"Why are you helping her and not me?" Nico screamed. "It's not fair!"

"You are close to the truth now," Bianca told him. "It's not Naomi you're mad at, or Percy. It's me."

"No."

"You're mad because I left you to become a Hunter of Artemis. You're mad because I died and left you alone. I'm sorry for that, Nico. I truly am. But you must overcome the anger. And stop blaming Naomi and Percy for my choices. It will be your doom."

"She's right," Annabeth broke in. "Kronos is rising, Nico. He'll twist anyone he can to his cause."

"I don't care about Kronos," Nico said. "I just want my sister back."

"You can't have that, Nico," Bianca told him gently.

"I'm the son of Hades! I can."

"Don't try," she said. "If you love me, don't..."

Her voice trailed off. Spirits had started to gather around them again, and they seemed agitated. Their shadows shifted. Their voices whispered, Danger!

"Tartarus stirs," Bianca said. "Your power draws the attention of Kronos. The dead must return to the Underworld. It is not safe for us to remain."

"Wait," Nico said. "Please—"

"Goodbye, Nico," Bianca said. "I love you. Remember what I said."

Her form shivered and the ghosts disappeared, leaving them alone with a pit, a septic tank, and a cold full moon.

No one was anxious to travel that night, so they spent the night at the ranch.

The next morning, they walked down to the cattle grid and said their goodbyes.

"Nico, you could come with us," Percy said.

Nico shook his head. Naomi doubted any of them had slept well in the demon ranch house, but Nico looked the worst out of all of them. His eyes were red and his face chalky. He was wrapped in a black robe that must've belonged to Geryon, because it was three sizes too big even for a grown man (which Nico was decidedly not.)

"I need time to think." His eyes wouldn't meet any of theirs, but Naomi could tell by his tone that he was still angry. The fact that his sister had come out of the Underworld for Naomi and not Nico didn't seem to sit well with him.

"Nico," Annabeth said. "Bianca just wants you to be okay."

She put her hand on his shoulder, but he pulled away and trudged up the road toward the ranch house. Naomi could have been imagining it, but the morning mist seemed to cling to him as he walked.

"I'm worried about him," Annabeth told Naomi. "If he starts talking to Minos's ghost again—"

"He'll be alright," Eurytion promised. The cowherd had cleaned up nicely. He was wearing new jeans and a clean Western shirt and he'd even trimmed his beard. He'd put on Geryon's boots. "The boy can stay here and gather his thoughts as long as he wants. He'll be safe, I promise."

"What about you?" Percy asked.

Eurytion scratched Orthus behind one chin, then the other. "Things are going to be run a little different on this ranch from now on. No more sacred cattle meat. I'm thinking about soybean patties. And I'm going to befriend those flesh-eating horses. Might just sign up for the next rodeo."

Percy shuddered. "Well, good luck."

"Yep." Eurytion spit into the grass. "I reckon you'll be looking for Daedalus's workshop now?"

Annabeth's eyes lit up. "Can you help us?"

Eurytion studied the cattle guard, and Naomi got the feeling the subject of Daedalus's workshop made him uncomfortable. "Don't know where it is. But Hephaestus probably would."

"That's what Hera said," Annabeth agreed. "But how do we find Hephaestus?"

Eurytion pulled something from under the collar of his shirt. It was a necklace—a smooth silver disk on a silver chain. The disk had a depression in the middle, like a thumbprint. He handed it to Annabeth.

"Hephaestus comes here from time to time," Eurytion said. "Studies the animals and such so he can make bronze automaton copies. Last time, I—uh—did him a favor. A little trick he wanted to play on my dad, Ares, and Aphrodite. He gave me that chain in gratitude. Said if I ever needed to find him, the disk would lead me to his forges. But only once."

"And you're giving it to me?" Annabeth asked.

Eurytion blushed. "I don't need to see the forges, miss. Got enough to do here. Just press the button and you'll be on your way."

Annabeth pressed the button and the disk sprang to life. It grew eight metallic legs. Annabeth shrieked and dropped it, much to Eurytion's confusion.

"Spider!" she screamed.

"She's, um, a little scared of spiders," Grover explained. "That old grudge between Athena and Arachne."

"Oh." Eurytion looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry, miss."

The spider scrambled to the cattle guard and disappeared between the bars.

"Hurry," Percy said. "That thing's not going to wait for us."

Annabeth wasn't anxious to follow, but they didn't have much choice. They said their goodbyes to Eurytion, Tyson pulled the cattle guard off the hole, and they dropped back into the maze.

The mechanical spider must have been hopped up on caffeine or something, because that thing moved fast. If it weren't for Tyson's and Grover's excellent hearing, they never would've known which way the thing was going.

They ran down a marble tunnel, then dashed to the left and almost fell into an abyss. Tyson grabbed Percy and hauled him back before he could fall. The tunnel continued in front of them, but there was no floor for about thirty meters, just gaping darkness and a series of iron rungs in the ceiling. The mechanical spider was about halfway across, swinging from bar to bar by shooting out metal web fiber.

"Monkey bars," Annabeth said. "I'm great at these."

She leaped onto the first rung and started swinging her way across. She was scared of tiny spiders, but not of plummeting to her death from a set of monkey bars—go figure.

Annabeth got to the opposite side and ran after the spider. Naomi followed, then Percy. When they were across, Naomi looked back and saw Tyson giving Grover a piggyback ride (goatyback ride?). The big guy made it across in three swings, which was good, since the last iron bar ripped free under his weight just as he landed.

They kept moving and passed a skeleton in the tunnel (cause of death: starvation—surprise, surprise). The spider didn't slow down.

The tunnel opened up into a large room. A blazing light hit them. Once Naomi's eyes adjusted, the first thing she noticed were the skeletons—a lot of skeletons. Dozens littered the floor around them. Some were old and bleached white. Others were more recent and far grosser.

Then Naomi saw the monster. She stood on a glittery dais on the opposite side of the room. She had the body of a huge lion and the head of a woman. She had a blue ribbon badge pinned to her chest that took Naomi a moment to read: THIS MONSTER HAS BEEN RATED EXEMPLARY!

Tyson whimpered. "Sphinx."

Spotlights blazed on either side of the creature. The only exit was a tunnel right behind the dais. The mechanical spider scuttled between the Sphinx's paws and disappeared.

Annabeth started forward, but the Sphinx roared, showing fangs in her otherwise human face. Bars came down on both tunnel exits, behind them and in front.

Immediately the monster's snarl turned into a brilliant smile.

"Welcome, lucky contestants!" she announced. "Get ready to play... ANSWER THAT RIDDLE!"

Canned applause blasted from the ceiling, as if there were invisible loudspeakers. Spotlights swept across the room and reflected off the dais, throwing disco glitter over the skeletons on the floor.

"Fabulous prizes!" the Sphinx said. "Pass the test, and you get to advance! Fail, and I get to eat you! Who will be our contestant?"

After a very short debate (which wasn't a debate at all), Annabeth stepped forward to the contestant's podium, which had a skeleton in a school uniform hunched over it. She pushed the skeleton out of the way, and it clattered to the floor.

"Sorry," Annabeth told it.

"Welcome, Annabeth Chase!" the monster cried, though Annabeth hadn't said her name. "Are you ready for your test?"

"Yes," she said. "Ask your riddle."

"Twenty riddles, actually!" the Sphinx said gleefully.

"What? But back in the old days—"

"Oh, we've raised our standards! To pass, you must show proficiency in all twenty. Isn't that great?"

Applause switched on and off like somebody turning a faucet.

Annabeth glanced back at her friends nervously. Naomi shot her an encouraging thumbs-up.

"Okay," Annabeth told the Sphinx. "I'm ready."

A drumroll sounded from above. The Sphinx's eyes glittered with excitement. "What... is the capital of Bulgaria?"

Annabeth frowned. For a terrible moment, Naomi thought she was stumped.

"Sofia," Annabeth said, "but—"

"Correct!" More artificial applause. The Sphinx smiled so widely her fangs showed. "Please be sure to mark your answer clearly on your test sheet with a number 2 pencil."

"What?" Annabeth looked mystified. Then a test booklet appeared on the podium in front of her, along with a sharpened pencil.

"Make sure you bubble each answer clearly and stay inside the circle," the Sphinx said. "If you have to erase, erase completely or the machine will not be able to read your answers."

"What machine?" Annabeth asked. The Sphinx pointed with her paw. Over by the spotlight was a bronze box with a bunch of gears and levers and a big Greek letter H, Ȇta, on the side—the mark of Hephaestus.

"Now," said the Sphinx, "next question—"

"Wait a second," Annabeth protested. "What about 'What walks on four legs in the morning'?"

"I beg your pardon?" the Sphinx said, clearly annoyed now.

"The riddle about the man. He walks on four legs in the morning, like a baby, two legs in the afternoon, like an adult, and three legs in the evening, as an old man with a cane. That's the riddle you used to ask."

"Exactly why we changed the test!" the Sphinx exclaimed. "You already knew the answer. Now, second question: what is the square root of sixteen?"

"Four," Annabeth said, "but—"

"Correct! Which U.S. president signed the Emancipation Proclamation?"

"Abraham Lincoln, but—"

"Correct! Riddle number four. How much—"

"Hold up!" Annabeth shouted. "These aren't riddles."

"What do you mean?" the Sphinx snapped. "Of course they are. This test material is specially designed—"

"It's just a bunch of dumb, random facts," Annabeth insisted. "Riddles are supposed to make you think."

"Think?" The Sphinx frowned. "How am I supposed to test whether you can think? That's ridiculous! Now, how much force is required—"

"Stop!" Annabeth insisted. "This is a stupid test."

"Annabeth, I will buy you a book of the world's hardest riddles, please just get us out of here," Naomi pleaded.

"I'm a child of Athena," Annabeth insisted. "And this is an insult to my intelligence. I won't answer these questions."

The spotlights glared. The Sphinx's eyes glittered pure black.

"Why then, my dear," the monster said calmly. "If you won't pass, you fail. And since we can't allow any children to be held back, you'll be EATEN!"

The Sphinx bared her claws, which gleamed like stainless steel. She pounced at the podium.

"No!" Tyson charged. He hated it when people threatened Annabeth, but Naomi was still shocked at his bravery.

He tackled the Sphinx in midair and they crashed sideways into a pile of bones. This gave Annabeth just enough time to gather her wits and draw her knife. Tyson got up, his shirt clawed to shreds. The Sphinx growled, looking for an opening.

Naomi drew her swords, her and Percy stepping in front of Annabeth.

"Turn invisible," Percy told her.

"I can fight!"

"No!" Percy yelled. "The Sphinx is after you! Let us get it."

As if to prove his point, the Sphinx knocked Tyson aside and tried to charge past Percy and Naomi. Grover poked her in the eye with somebody's leg bone and she screeched in pain.

Annabeth put on her cap and vanished. The Sphinx pounced right where she'd been standing, but came up with empty paws.

"No fair!" the Sphinx wailed. "Cheater!"

With Annabeth no longer in sight, the Sphinx turned on Percy. He raised his sword, but before he could strike, Tyson ripped the monster's grading machine out of the floor and threw it at the Sphinx's head, ruining her hair bun. It landed in pieces all around her.

"My grading machine!" she cried. "I can't be exemplary without my test scores!"

The bars lifted from the exits. They all dashed for the far tunnel. Naomi could only hope Annabeth was doing the same.

The Sphinx started to follow, but Grover raised his reed pipes and began to play. Suddenly the pencils all around them remembered they used to be parts of trees. They collected around the Sphinx's paws, grew roots and branches, and began wrapping around the monster's legs. The Sphinx ripped through them, but it bought the questers just enough time.

Tyson pulled Grover into the tunnel, and the bars slammed shut behind them.

"Annabeth!" Naomi yelled.

"Here!" she said, right next to her. "Keep moving!"

They ran through the dark tunnels, listening to the roar of the Sphinx behind them as she complained about all the tests she would have to grade by hand.

Chapter 77: xii. splitting up

Chapter Text

NAOMI THOUGHT THEY'D LOST THE SPIDER until Tyson heard a faint pinging sound. They made a few turns, backtracked a few times, and eventually found the spider banging its tiny head on a metal door.

The door looked like an old-fashioned submarine hatch—oval, with metal rivets around the edges and a wheel for a doorknob. Where the porthole should've been was a big brass plaque, green with age, with a Greek Êta inscribed in the middle.

They all looked at each other.

"Ready to meet Hephaestus?" Grover said nervously.

"No," Percy admitted.

"Yes!" Tyson said gleefully, and he turned the wheel.

As soon as the door opened, the spider scuttled inside with Tyson right behind it. The others followed, not quite as anxious.

The room was enormous. It looked like a mechanic's garage, with several hydraulic lifts. Some had cars on them, but others had stranger things: a bronze hippalektryon with its horse head off and a bunch of wires hanging out its rooster tail, a metal lion that seemed to be hooked up to a battery charger, and a Greek war chariot made entirely of flames.

Smaller projects cluttered a dozen worktables. Tools hung along the walls. Each had its own outline on a Peg-Board, but nothing seemed to be in the right place. The hammer was over the screwdriver place. The staple gun was where the hacksaw was supposed to go.

Under the nearest hydraulic lift, which was holding a '98 Toyota Corolla, a pair of legs stuck out—the lower half of a huge man in grubby gray pants and shoes even bigger than Tyson's. One leg was in a metal brace.

The spider scuttled straight under the car, and the sounds of banging stopped.

"Well, well," a deep voice boomed from under the Corolla. "What have we here?"

The mechanic pushed out on a back trolley and sat up. Naomi had seen Hephaestus once before, briefly, on Olympus, though he looked a bit less put-together here. He wore overalls smeared with oil and grime. Hephaestus was embroidered over the chest pocket. His leg creaked and clicked in its metal brace as he stood, and his left shoulder drooped, so he seemed to be leaning even when he was standing up straight. He wore a permanent scowl, his beard smoking and hissing like it was on fire, because it was on fire. His hands were the size of catcher's mitts, but he handled the spider with amazing skill. He disassembled it in two seconds, then put it back together.

"There," he muttered. "Much better."

The spider did a happy flip in his palm, shot a metallic web at the ceiling, and went swinging away.

Hephaestus glowered up at Naomi and her companions. "I didn't make you, did I?"

"Uh," Annabeth said, "no, sir."

"Good," the god grumbled. "Shoddy workmanship."

He studied Annabeth, Percy, and Naomi. "Half-bloods," he grunted. "Could be automatons, of course, but probably not."

"We've met, sir," Percy told him.

"Have we?" the god asked absently. He didn't seem to care either way. "Well then, if I didn't smash you to a pulp the first time we met, I suppose I won't have to do it now."

He looked at Grover and frowned. "Satyr." Then he looked at Tyson, and his eyes twinkled. "Well, a Cyclops. Good, good. What are you doing traveling with this lot?"

"Uh..." said Tyson, staring in wonder at the god.

"Yes, well said," Hephaestus agreed. "So, there'd better be a good reason you're disturbing me. The suspension on this Corolla is no small matter, you know."

"Sir," Annabeth said hesitantly, "we're looking for Daedalus. We thought—"

"Daedalus?" the god roared, making Naomi jump. "You want that old scoundrel? You dare to seek him out!"

His beard burst into flames and his black eyes glowed.

"Uh, yes, sir, please," Annabeth said.

"Humph. You're wasting your time." He frowned at something on his worktable and limped over to it. He picked up a lump of springs and metal plates and tinkered with them. In a few seconds he was holding a bronze and silver falcon. It spread its metal wings, blinked its obsidian eyes, and flew around the room.

Tyson laughed and clapped his hands. The bird landed on Tyson's shoulder and nipped his ear affectionately.

Hephaestus regarded him. The god's scowl didn't change, but Naomi thought there was a kinder twinkle in his eyes. "I sense you have something to tell me, Cyclops."

Tyson's smile faded. "Y-yes, lord. We met a Hundred-Handed One."

Hephaestus nodded, looking unsurprised. "Briares?"

"Yes. He—he was scared. He would not help us."

"And that bothered you."

"Yes!" Tyson's voice wavered. "Briares should be strong! He is older and greater than Cyclopes. But he ran away."

Hephaestus grunted. "There was a time I admired the Hundred-Handed Ones. Back in the days of the first war. But people, monsters, even gods change, young Cyclops. You can't trust 'em. Look at my loving mother, Hera. You met her, didn't you? She'll smile to your face and talk about how important family is, eh? Didn't stop her from pitching me off Mount Olympus when she saw my ugly face."

"But I thought Zeus did that to you," Percy said.

Hephaestus cleared his throat and spat into a bronze spittoon. He snapped his fingers, and the robotic falcon flew back to the worktable.

"Mother likes telling that version of the story," he grumbled. "Makes her seem more likeable, doesn't it? Blaming it all on my dad. The truth is, my mother likes families, but she likes a certain kind of family. Perfect families. She took one look at me and... well, I don't fit the image, do I?"

He pulled a feather from the falcon's back, and the whole automaton fell apart.

"Believe me, young Cyclops," Hephaestus said, "you can't trust others. All you can trust is the work of your own hands."

That seemed like such a lonely way to live, especially for an immortal.

Hephaestus focused on Percy and narrowed his eyes. "Oh, this one doesn't like me," he mused. "No worries, I'm used to that. What would you ask of me, little demigod?"

"We told you," Percy said. "We need to find Daedalus. There's this guy, Luke, and he's working for Kronos. He's trying to find a way to navigate the Labyrinth so he can invade our camp. If we don't get to Daedalus first—"

"And I told you, boy. Looking for Daedalus is a waste of time. He won't help you."

"Why not?"

Hephaestus shrugged. "Some of us get thrown off mountain sides. Some of us... the way we learn not to trust people is more painful. Ask me for gold. Or a flaming sword. Or a magical steed. These I can grant you easily. But a way to Daedalus? That's an expensive favor."

"You know where he is, then," Annabeth pressed.

"It isn't wise to go looking, girl."

"My mother says looking is the nature of wisdom."

Hephaestus narrowed his eyes. "Who's your mother, then?"

"Athena."

"Figures." He sighed. "Fine goddess, Athena. A shame she pledged never to marry. All right, half-blood. I can tell you what you want to know. But there is a price. I need a favor done."

"Name it," Annabeth said.

Hephaestus actually laughed—a booming sound like a huge bellows stoking a fire. "You heroes," he said, "always making rash promises. How refreshing!"

He pressed a button on his workbench, and metal shutters opened along the wall. It was either a huge window or a big-screen TV, Naomi couldn't tell which. They were looking at a gray mountain ringed in forests. It must've been a volcano, because smoke rose from its crest.

"One of my forges," Hephaestus said. "I have many, but that used to be my favorite."

"That's Mount St. Helens," Grover said. "Great forests around there."

"You've been there?" Percy asked.

"Looking for... you know, Pan."

"Wait," Annabeth said, looking at Hephaestus. "You said it used to be your favorite. What happened?"

Hephaestus scratched his smoldering beard. "Well, that's where the monster Typhon is trapped, you know. Used to be under Mount Etna, but when we moved to America, his force got pinned under Mount St. Helens instead. Great source of fire, but a bit dangerous. There's always a chance he will escape. Lots of eruptions these days, smoldering all the time. He's restless with the Titan rebellion."

"What do you want us to do?" Percy said. "Fight him?"

Hephaestus snorted. "That would be suicide. The gods themselves ran from Typhon when he was free. No, pray you never have to see him, much less fight him. But lately I have sensed intruders in my mountain. Someone or something is using my forges. When I go there, it is empty, but I can tell it is being used. They sense me coming, and they disappear. I send my automatons to investigate, but they do not return. Something... ancient is there. Evil. I want to know who dares invade my territory, and if they mean to loose Typhon."

"You want us to find out who it is," Percy said.

"Aye," Hephaestus said. "Go there. They may not sense you coming. You are not gods."

"Glad you noticed," Percy muttered.

"Go and find out what you can," Hephaestus said. "Report back to me, and I will tell you what you need to know about Daedalus."

"All right," Annabeth said. "How do we get there?"

Hephaestus clapped his hands. The spider came swinging down from the rafters. Annabeth flinched when it landed at her feet.

"My creation will show you the way," Hephaestus said. "It is not far through the Labyrinth. And try to stay alive, will you? Humans are much more fragile than automatons."

They were doing okay until they hit the tree roots. The spider raced along and they were keeping up, but then they spotted a tunnel off to the side that was dug from raw earth, and wrapped in thick roots. Grover stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" Naomi asked.

He didn't move. He didn't move. He stared open-mouthed into the dark tunnel. His curly hair rustled in the breeze.

"Come on!" Annabeth said. "We have to keep moving."

"This is the way," Grover muttered in awe. "This is it."

"What way?" Percy asked. "You mean... to Pan?"

Grover looked at Tyson. "Don't you smell it?"

"Dirt," Tyson said. "And plants."

"Yes! This is the way. I'm sure of it!"

Up ahead, the spider was getting farther down the stone corridor. A few more seconds and they'd lose it.

"We'll come back," Annabeth promised. "On our way back to Hephaestus."

"The tunnel will be gone by then," Grover said. "I have to follow it. A door like this won't stay open!"

"But we can't," Annabeth said. "The forges!"

Grover looked at her sadly. "I have to, Annabeth. Don't you understand?"

She looked desperate, like she didn't understand at all. The spider was almost out of sight.

"We'll split up," Percy said.

"No!" Annabeth said. "That's way too dangerous. How will we ever find each other again? And Grover can't go alone."

Tyson put his hand on Grover's shoulder. "I—I will go with him."

Percy looked shocked. "Tyson, are you sure?"

The big guy nodded. "Goat boy needs help. We will find the god person. I am not like Hephaestus. I trust friends."

Grover took a deep breath. "Percy, we'll find each other again. We've still got the empathy link. I just... have to."

Naomi couldn't blame him, not in the slightest—finding Pan was his life's goal. If he didn't find Pan on this journey, the council would never give him another chance.

"I hope you're right," Percy said.

"I know I am." Naomi had never heard Grover sound so confident about anything.

"Be careful," Percy told him. Then he looked at Tyson. They hugged, and then he and Grover disappeared through the tunnel of tree roots and were lost in the darkness.

"This is bad," Annabeth said. "Splitting up is a really, really bad idea."

Naomi reached for her hand, squeezing it. "We'll see them again."

Percy nodded. "Now, come on. The spider is getting away!"

It wasn't long before the tunnel started to get hot. The stone walls glowed. The air felt as if they were walking through an oven. The tunnel sloped down and Naomi heard a loud roar, like a river of metal. The spider skittered along, with Annabeth right behind.

"Hey, wait up," Percy called to her.

She glanced back at him and Naomi. "Yeah?"

"Something Hephaestus said back there... about Athena."

"She swore never to marry," Annabeth said. "Like Artemis and Hestia. She's one of the maiden goddesses."

Percy blinked, surprised. "But then—"

"How come she has demigod children?"

Percy nodded. He might have been blushing, or it could have just been the heat.

"Percy, you know how Athena was born?"

"She sprang from the head of Zeus in full battle armor or something."

"Exactly. She wasn't born in the normal way. She was literally born from thoughts. Her children are born the same way. When Athena falls in love with a mortal man, it's purely intellectual, the way she loved Odysseus in the old stories. It's a meeting of minds. She would tell you that's the purest kind of love."

"So your dad and Athena... so you weren't..."

"I was a brain child," Annabeth said. "Literally. Children of Athena are sprung from the divine thoughts of our mother and the mortal ingenuity of our father. We are supposed to be a gift, a blessing from Athena on the men she favors."

"But—"

"Percy, the spider's getting away. Do you really want me to explain the exact details of how I was born?"

"Um... no. That's okay."

Naomi stifled a laugh as Annabeth smirked. "I thought not." And she ran ahead, leaving Naomi and Percy to follow.

The tunnel got hotter, and then darker—not dark enough to force them to stop, but still dark. A minute or so later, Naomi heard it again.

Komori.

Instinctually, Naomi turned her head toward the direction of the voice, her pace slowing.

It's time.

"Time for what?" she asked, voice louder than she expected in the empty, quiet tunnel.

"Nay?" Percy called from a few feet ahead. "Who are you talking to?"

"I—" Naomi shook her head. "No one, I guess. I just thought I—"

The heat disappeared, replaced by a cold shocking in its suddenness. It wasn't even that cold, but compared to the growing heat, it was a drastic shift in temperature, and it made Naomi shiver.

Come, komori.

A gust of cold wind blew across Naomi's body, and everything turned dark, like she'd been blinded.

And then she was falling.

Chapter 78: xiii. the old darkness

Chapter Text

NAOMI DIDN'T KNOW HOW LONG SHE FELL. She didn't even know if she was falling, or if she was scattering or flying or... nothing.

It could have been days, weeks, or even seconds. It was as if time no longer existed, leaving her dropping endlessly into a nightmare she'd had too many times to count.

But there would be no waking up this time. It was the one thing she was certain of. This—whatever this was—was really happening.

She didn't hit the ground the way she expected to. Rather than smashing into the floor, she landed on her feet, as if she'd been standing on something the entire time. She hadn't realized it until now, but her body had seemed to turn into something vaporous—like the mist Bianca had been the night before. The comparison was enough to double her fear, but thankfully as she came to a stop, her body re-solidified, leaving her with strangely heavy limbs and no idea where she was.

She opened her eyes, not even sure when she'd first closed them. It didn't matter—the darkness of her eyelids was the same as the darkness before her.

Naomi's heart stuttered in her chest. No.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice tinged with panic. "Annabeth? Percy? Somebody?"

She rushed forward, trying to find a wall, a person, a monster—anything. But she was alone, without even an echo to answer back.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no."

She was panicking. She knew it was counterproductive, she knew it would just tire her out and take up energy that she needed to preserve to... to what? What was she supposed to do?

The darkness had no end. There was no tunnel out of it, no exit to walk through.

There was just nothing.

Her rings were gone. She wasn't sure if they'd fallen off, or disappeared, or been taken somehow during the fall. All she knew was that her hands felt naked.

She was alone—weaponless, friendless, hopeless.

She screamed until her throat felt raw. She cycled through her friends' names, the gods' names, begging anyone she could think of to hear her. By the time she gave up, she was on her knees, pressing her hands to the cold, smooth floor beneath her—the one tangible thing in this endless abyss.

A tear slipped down Naomi's cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away—who would see it? She was alone.

"No," she whimpered.

She forced herself back to her feet. She made her feet stumble forward, praying to every god whose name she could remember that her nightmare had been a deception, that there was an end to this void if only she kept walking.

So she kept walking, until the air burned her skin.

She jumped back, yanking her body away from whatever had burned her. Fire? Some kind of poison gas? At some point, the air had turned from an empty cold to a frightening heat, but the burn hadn't been gradual. There had been no hint of the heat before she plunged into it, no warmth to warn her before she was burned.

Hesitantly, Naomi reached a hand in front of her, wondering briefly if she was beginning to hallucinate. It seemed too early for that, but in this emptiness, she thought anything might be possible. It seemed an easy place to go mad in.

Her fingers touched the place where the air turned acidic, and she drew it back as quickly as she could, stumbling away. Her fingertips throbbed painfully as she clutched her hand to her chest.

"Not a hallucination," she whispered.

She tried to bring her hand up to look at it, but this darkness was different from what she could typically see through—her eyes wouldn't adjust like she was used to.

Maybe she wasn't even in a real place. Maybe this was death, not her brief meeting with Thanatos. Maybe she'd died in the Labyrinth, and this was her afterlife.

But what awful thing could she have done to be punished with this? Had she betrayed the gods in a past life, and her subsequent lives were forced to pay a price for something they couldn't remember doing? Was this Hades's revenge on his wife's bastard, denying her entry to the Underworld, leaving her in this nothingness for eternity?

Komori.

Naomi yelped in shock. Had she forgotten so quickly what another voice sounded like?

"Who's there?" she asked.

Come, the voice beckoned. It was the same voice from her last dream, the same voice she'd heard in the Labyrinth, the same voice that had spoken to her just before her fall.

"No," Naomi said, her voice half-angry and half-frantic. "I'm not moving until you tell me who you are!"

You know me, komori.

"No, I don't!" Naomi yelled. "Just tell me who you are! Stop being cryptic!"

You're panicking, the voice said.

"Of course I'm panicking!" Naomi screamed. "I'm in some freaky void and talking to a disembodied voice! How can I not panic?"

Take a deep breath, Naomi. It was the first time the voice had said her name, and it pronounced it strangely—like now-me. Naomi had never heard it said like that before. It didn't sound wrong, just... unfamiliar.

Naomi took a deep, stuttered breath. Her hands were still shaking, but she clenched them into fists, ignoring the pain in her burned fingertips. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm her raging heart.

It took a moment—a lot of them—but eventually, she wasn't hyperventilating. Her heart began to jog instead of sprinting for the finish line.

Good, the voice said.

Naomi swallowed. "Where am I?" she asked, her voice a bit tamer—less angry and more desperate. "And please don't say 'right where you are meant to be.'"

Strangely enough, the voice chuckled, apparently amused by her imitation. You are in the darkness we all must conquer to move forward.

"Who is 'we'?" Naomi demanded. "Demigods?"

No. Those chosen by the shadows, the voice murmured. You. Me. Those who came before us both.

"What is this place?" Naomi asked.

Darkness older than the Titans and younger than Chaos, the voice answered.

Naomi managed a scowl. "Do you always speak in riddles?"

It isn't a riddle, the voice told her. Only the truth.

"So this darkness is old," Naomi said. "But... shadows don't age, they're just... shadows."

This darkness belonged to Tartarus himself, the voice told her. Stolen from his being, embedded into the earth for those of us it calls to. Those with shadows in their blood.

"So... it's an Underworld-kid thing?" Naomi asked.

Not exactly.

"Then what is it?"

These shadows have withstood the reign of the Titans, the Golden Age of the gods. They have never faltered in their depth, nor in their purpose—to grant those who prove their worth their power. This darkness has lived for millennia, and it will live for millennia more.

"Okay," she muttered. "Super old, super scary darkness. Got it."

Yes, the voice said. Very old, komori.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" she asked. "What does it mean?"

It was almost like Naomi could feel the voice smiling—not in amusement, necessarily, but something just as warm.

'Bat,' the voice explained. It's the Japanese word for it. My mother called me that when I was a child. I passed on the tradition.

Naomi swallowed. Understanding began to trickle in, but she blocked it out. If she let the hope flourish, if she let herself believe—no. There was no need. It wasn't possible.

She knew death, and this—this wasn't possible.

"Who are you?" Naomi whispered. "Please, just tell me."

You know me, the voice said softly. Just as I know you.

"I don't," she whispered, because she couldn't. It couldn't be him.

The understanding settled, and the hope followed, breaking through her denial.

You do, the voice insisted, tone still gentle. Blood recognizes blood.

Naomi's throat felt tight with a lifetime of grief, surging back to the surface without invitation. But when did grief ever wait for one? "That's impossible. You're dead."

Is it so inconceivable that death can take on different forms?

Naomi shook her head. "You're trying to trick me."

Open your eyes, komori.

"They are open!" she argued.

Then look.

Naomi felt the void shift, almost imperceptibly. In the darkness before her, an image formed—a memory that wasn't her own: a man, cradling a baby in his arms, looking Death himself in the eye without fear for himself. Only fear for the baby he held against his chest, wishing to shield her from the world's horrors as long as he was able.

This was the last time I held you in my arms, the voice whispered. But it was never the last time I was there for you.

Naomi couldn't stop the tear that slipped down her cheek, or the one that came after. She wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Dad."

The image faded, but the presence lingered, like warmth from a hearth.

There's my girl.

"How are you here?" she whimpered.

I exist in the shadows, he told her. It is the deal I struck with the darkness.

"What?" Naomi asked. "What does that mean?"

You will learn all in time, he said. But not yet.

"Seriously?" Naomi shook her head. If there was anything that was certain in the world, it was that gods and ghosts loved to be needlessly cryptic. "Why didn't you go to the Underworld? Because of Hades?"

Because I wouldn't have been able to help you through this.

Naomi didn't know what to say to that.

"You... you've been here, too?" she asked shakily. "In this... darkness?"

It is a test we all must pass when we reach sixteen, to walk through them, her father told her. I passed. My mother passed. We were some of the few. It is time for you to join us.

Naomi frowned. "But I'm not..."

She faltered. Time moved differently in the maze—a few minutes was an hour outside. A day could turn into a week...

Happy birthday, komori.

Naomi closed her eyes—more out of exasperation than anything. "This is the worst birthday party ever," she mumbled. "You said this was a... a test?"

Yes.

"But I'm terrible at taking tests," Naomi whined.

Those tests were not life and death, her father said. This is.

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

You must pass this test to move forward, komori, he told her. It is the only way.

Naomi was quiet for a long time. When she spoke again, her voice barely reached her own ears. "I'm scared."

It's human to be afraid, he said. But you must embrace your fear to move forward, just as you must embrace the darkness—every facet of it, even the parts lesser mortals tremble before.

"How?" she whispered.

You must walk through the shadows, he told her. You cannot avoid this darkness. You cannot best it. It must be endured.

"But it hurts," Naomi said, clutching her burned hand to her chest. It still pulsed with pain, though the skin was smooth where she touched it. "Why do they hurt?"

That is the test, her father told her. The pain is the only way to separate the worthy from the not. We must prove we can survive in order for the darkness to let us thrive.

Naomi fell quiet again. The only sound she could hear was that of her pounding heart.

Finally, she asked, "If I walk through... I'll get back to my friends?"

Yes, her father promised.

"What if I'm not worthy?"

You are. I'm certain of it.

Naomi swallowed hard. "Will you... will you stay with me?"

Of course.

Naomi took a deep breath.

She was more than scared—she was terrified. She was terrified that the voice was a trick; that it wasn't actually her father, just some sadistic monster luring her to a painful demise. She was terrified that she wasn't worthy, that these ancient shadows would burn her to ashes as soon as she ventured into them.

She wanted another option to jump out of nowhere. She wanted one of her friends to pop up out of nothing. She wanted to wake up and realize all of this was just another instance of the same nightmare, and it didn't actually mean anything in the end.

All the hours of training she'd put in meant nothing in the end. There was no fighting her way out of this—only surviving.

It wasn't a nightmare. It was a test, and her only hope of seeing her friends again was to pass it.

She was afraid, but she wouldn't—couldn't—let that stop her.

She took a step forward, then another, until the cold shifted abruptly into the heat she remembered from before.

Naomi clenched her teeth as the invisible flames began to burn her. She forced her feet to move forward, fighting the urge to scream as the heat intensified. It felt like she was wading through lava. Every survival instinct inside of her screamed for her to go back, to get out of this heat, to forget her father's words and just stay in the safer part of the darkness forever.

She would die, but it would be a kinder death than this invisible inferno.

Find an anchor, her father told her, his voice just barely breaking through the haze of pain that had overtaken her. A tether to the light outside of this darkness. It makes it easier.

Under normal circumstances, Naomi might have been embarrassed by how quickly she thought of Annabeth and Percy.

She didn't know where they were now. She wasn't sure there would even be an answer outside of this agony. But if there was—if there was any way she could get back to them—she would go to whatever lengths it took to do it.

Percy, who had been at her side since they were kids; Annabeth, who had found her way to Naomi's side not long after and never strayed when she could help it. They had all saved each other time and time again, from monsters and grief and the real world. There was a bond between them that Naomi was sure even death couldn't fully sever.

They were out there, somewhere—she was as sure of it as she was sure of her own heart beating in her chest, her own lungs filling with breath. The darkness would not keep her from them.

She kept walking.

As she got deeper into the darkness, she heard voices. Some screamed like she'd heard before. Others prayed to the gods for strength. Others still pleaded for mercy, a reprieve from this agony that could only be found in death.

She shuddered as she realized who the voices must have belonged to—those who'd stepped into these shadows and never made it out. The unworthy, claimed by the ancient darkness, forever reliving their deaths, warning those who came after of the danger.

Naomi kept her mouth shut. If she didn't make it through, she didn't want the next unlucky soul to hear her screams added to the soundtrack.

She forged ahead.

Time blurred into nothing—maybe it had always been nothing. She might have walked for days, or weeks, or mere seconds. It felt like years, like she was being melted only to be shaped back together, but it didn't feel like death anymore. It felt like a rebirth.

The darkness could try, but it would not consume her like it had consumed the unworthy. She had the advantage, because it wasn't just darkness that lingered in her blood, lighting the path through this ancient void. There was life in it, too.

She was a daughter of life and death, of the goddess whose absence made the earth bare and whose return brought life back with her. Her mother was the queen of the dead and the goddess of life, of regrowth, of the world made new again.

Life in the form of flowers bloomed at Naomi's command, never fearing the shadows that bloomed with them. The two lived in harmony inside of Naomi—life and death, light and dark. In them, she was never in danger.

In them, she was home.

As she walked farther into the darkness, her fear faded into nothing. The screaming came to a halt.

The invisible inferno blazed hotter than ever before, and Naomi collapsed, her knees hitting the smooth, hard floor. She bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood, trying with all her might to hold in the scream that clawed at her throat.

This is the hardest part, her father murmured. Be strong, komori.

Tears welled up in Naomi's eyes, dripping steadily down her cheeks. All she could hear was the roar of her blood in her ears, the pounding of her heartbeat in her chest. She had never known pain like this—like she was being skinned alive, every cell in her body aflame, every facet of her being burning into ash.

And then the fire stopped. Naomi opened her eyes, and in the darkness, she saw an outstretched hand—pale, stained with golden blood, shadows curling around the fingers like snakes.

Naomi placed her own in the stained palm, and let herself be pulled to her feet.

The hand disappeared back into the shadows, so quickly Naomi thought she might have imagined it altogether. But when she looked down at her own hand, the skin was tinged with gold.

Another hand—this one invisible, but just as cold—brushed her cheek.

Umbra Electi, her father whispered in the darkness. Dignus es.

Shadow C hosen. You are worthy.

Naomi took one final step forward.

And then, she was gone again.

A second later, light blinded her. The old darkness was gone, replaced by thin, fresh air that Naomi fell into, tripping over her shoes out of the dark corner of a dimly-lit room. She barely managed to regain her balance in time to keep from hitting the floor. Her head spun like a rogue merry-go-round, her stomach flipping like an overachieving gymnast.

As her eyes adjusted to the sudden light, she took in her surroundings.

She was in the Big House. In the meeting room... right in the middle of a counselors' meeting, it seemed.

Ten wide pairs of eyes stared at her in complete and utter shock.

Before Naomi could speak, a chair scraped painfully against the floor. "Naomi?"

Naomi looked, her gaze finding Annabeth as soon as her mind registered her voice. She looked haunted, her eyes bloodshot and red. But she was alive, and that was almost all that mattered.

Except—where was Percy?

A second later, another voice—Chiron's?—asked, "Naomi, how...?"

Naomi raised a finger, as if to ask for a second, but her body decided that wasn't long enough. Her knees buckled as she collapsed, a kinder darkness taking hold.

Chapter 79: xiv. annabeth has a very bad day

Summary:

Annabeth POV

Chapter Text

IT WAS OFFICIAL: this was the worst day of Annabeth Chase's life.

(Or was it the worst week? Time in the Labyrinth was a maze in and of itself).

Travis winced as Naomi's body hit the floor, too quickly for anyone to even think to catch, even if they weren't all sitting in stunned shock. "Oof. That's gonna hurt in the morning."

"Where—" Pollux from the Dionysus cabin looked from Chiron to Naomi's unconscious body. "I—look, I know my dad's the god of madness, but... I didn't just hallucinate her popping up out of nowhere, right? You all saw it?"

Annabeth jolted up and out of her chair with enough force to make it fall noisily to the ground. She ran to Naomi's side with Silena and Katie on her heels.

"Naomi?" Annabeth asked desperately. Her eyes ached from crying, but fresh tears came anyway. She turned Naomi's head to see her face. Her eyes were closed, her expression soft with sleep.

"Lee!" Annabeth yelled.

"Yeah, yeah," Lee said, pushing past Silena and Katie. "Let the medic through, people!"

He knelt down next to Naomi's head, pressing his fingers to her neck. He frowned a little, which sent Annabeth into even more of a panic.

"What?" she demanded. "What's with that face? Is she okay?"

Lee leaned away from the storm Annabeth was rapidly becoming. "Well, she's alive, so there's that," he said. "Her heart rate's a little slow, but it's strong." He hovered his hand over her mouth, and visibly relaxed, if only a little. "And she's breathing. Hooray! We should get her to the infirmary so I can monitor her properly. Beckendorf, can you—"

"I've got her," Annabeth cut him off.

Lee raised an eyebrow at her in question.

From across the room, Chiron said gently, "Annabeth, you've been through a lot. Perhaps you should let—"

"I said I've got her," Annabeth repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument. Before anyone else could even try, she slipped her arms under Naomi's knees and back. She picked her up, and Naomi's head fell against Annabeth's shoulder, heavy enough to momentarily shake the terror that had taken hold of Annabeth.

She'd held the weight of the sky once. Somehow, this felt the same.

She headed to the infirmary, not waiting for anyone as she slipped out of the meeting room. She knew her quest report was incomplete, but she didn't—couldn't—care. Not when Naomi was hurt.

She wouldn't let anything else happen to her. Not after Percy...

Annabeth's throat threatened to close. It took every ounce of her willpower to rein her fear in.

When she reached the infirmary, she carefully laid Naomi down on the nearest empty cot. Lee went to work immediately. As he ran around gathering supplies, Annabeth found a chair and sat down at Naomi's bedside, not taking her eyes off the daughter of Persephone, afraid she might disappear again.

Silena wasn't even half a minute behind Lee. She rushed to Naomi's cot, her expression mournful. Annabeth loved Silena, but in that moment she wanted to take the grief in her eyes and crush it beneath her shoe so she would never have to see it again.

There was nothing to grieve. Naomi would be fine. Annabeth would do whatever it took, make whatever deal she had to make with Apollo or Asclepius or Death to make it so.

Chiron entered the infirmary as well, Katie hovering at the door so as not to crowd. Lee returned to Naomi's bedside, wisely stationing himself on the side of the cot Silena stood at, rather than Annabeth's.

The first thing he did was get an accurate heart-rate. "Still strong," he said, mostly to himself, but Annabeth appreciated him talking out loud. He listened to Naomi's chest. "Lungs are clear."

He tied a rubber band around her arm, then picked up an empty syringe, the thin needle glinting in the dim light of the infirmary. Annabeth had gotten shots before, but she still had to fight a shudder at the sight of the needle.

Lee stabbed it through Naomi's skin gently. He retracted the plunger, and let out an actual gasp at what he saw.

Naomi's blood came out as easily as anyone else's, but it was dark. As Lee slowly filled the syringe, thin wisps of black mist curled in the tiny cylinder, like smoke coming off of dry ice.

"Chiron," Lee said, his voice just a bit panicked. "Have you ever seen this before?"

Chiron wore a rare look of pure confusion. "I have not," he said, taking the syringe as Lee retracted it from Naomi's arm. "It's strange. It almost looks like smoke, or perhaps shadows."

Silena frowned. "Could it be an Underworld thing?"

"She's never bled like that before," Annabeth whispered, remembering the blood that had dripped down Naomi's face on Mount Tamalpais—normal red, with no hint of this strange darkness.

"Perhaps a side effect of wandering the Labyrinth," Chiron suggested.

Annabeth looked down at one of the many scraps on her arms. No black smoke rose from her wounds.

"I'll set up an IV drip to get some vitamins in her," Lee said. "And she'll need nectar and ambrosia."

"How long do you think it'll be before she wakes up?" Silena asked, her tone worried.

"I don't know," Lee admitted. "She might wake up in an hour or tomorrow morning, depending on how much sleep her body needs to recuperate. I just wish I had an idea of what she was recuperating from."

"Who knows what happened to her in the maze," Chiron murmured. "But she has survived. That is all that matters now." He looked at Annabeth. "I'll get the rest of your report later. Rest for now."

Then he trotted out of the infirmary, and after a silent exchange with Silena, Katie followed.

Lee set a glass of nectar and a square of ambrosia on the small table next to Naomi's cot for when she woke up. He glanced at his watch. "I have to go switch out with the patrol by the Labyrinth entrance," he said. "I'll send Will in to keep an eye on her."

"Will's twelve," Silena said with a small frown.

"And he's already a better healer than most of our siblings," Lee countered. "Are you two gonna stay?"

Annabeth lifted her feet onto her chair, curling her arms around her bent legs, making it clear without speaking that she wasn't going anywhere.

"We will," Silena told Lee.

He nodded, and headed out of the room.

Silena found a chair and pulled it up next to Naomi's cot. She looked at Annabeth. "You can go take a shower if you want, or a nap," she offered. "I'll stay with her."

"I'm not going anywhere," Annabeth said firmly.

Silena's eyes were kind, but sad—they looked like that a lot these days. Annabeth wasn't sure why. "She's going to be okay," she said, as if she could speak it into existence. "And Percy... I'm sure he's okay, too."

"You don't know that," Annabeth whispered.

"But I hope," Silena murmured. "Sometimes that's all we can do."

Silena stayed until just a few minutes before lights out. She and Will tried to convince Annabeth to head back to her cabin, but she refused to move. Silena had gotten Drew to bring Annabeth a change of clothes and she'd taken a shower in the infirmary bathroom, but that was the farthest she would move away from Naomi.

Chiron made her eat something, but she could only finish half of her sandwich. Before Naomi had appeared, Annabeth's chest had felt empty, her mind scattered on different possibilities as to what had happened to Naomi and what had happened to Percy. Now, her chest felt only half-empty, but the hollowness still made her ache.

Grover and Tyson were still gods-know-where, still wandering the Labyrinth or already gone. Naomi was unconscious. Percy was missing. And Annabeth only had herself to blame.

In the back of her mind, she knew she was being unfair to herself, but that tiny voice was overpowered by her brain yelling at her, reminding her of Chiron's warning that she'd ignored. She'd taken too many companions into the maze; she'd risked their lives when they weren't hers to risk, and they'd come because they were her friends, because they trusted her, and she let them all down.

She slept fitfully, her head on Naomi's cot, her dreams full of haunting images that she prayed to all the gods were just creations of her imagination and not prophecies or hints about her friends' fates. They were all too horrible to even ponder on for longer than a moment.

Will Solace was a vigilant healer, checking Naomi's temperature and heart rate and breathing excessively. He took meticulous notes, his handwriting messy enough to qualify as a doctor's already. He told Annabeth his findings—her heart rate's steady, she's breathing normally, her temperature's a little high but that could just be her baseline, I don't know, does she usually run hot? He didn't use any medical jargon. Annabeth wasn't sure he'd learned any yet.

When the sun rose again the next morning, Naomi was still unconscious. Katie brought clothes for Naomi to change into when she woke up (the clothes she wore now were covered with soot or something like that, the bright orange dull and dark). Chiron checked in before his archery lesson, and told her there'd been no updates on Percy's whereabouts. He told her not to worry, but that was all Annabeth could do.

Malcolm stopped by after lunch to check in. Annabeth felt bad for thrusting her counselor responsibilities onto him even after returning from her quest, but he told her he didn't mind (Athena's kids are rarely hard to handle, even the youngest ones).

Silena came and went. Drew, too. Annabeth swore her eyes were red when she stopped by, but she knew the daughter of Aphrodite would deny it to her grave.

And Annabeth waited. She traced the lines on Naomi's palm with her fingertip, brushed the hair out of her face, fidgeted with her fingers. She was afraid if she pulled away, even for a second, Naomi would disappear again. She didn't even know how she'd done it the first time—all she knew was that one moment, Naomi was there, and the next, there was only silence and a stone wall behind them.

Annabeth's throat still ached from screaming Naomi's name.

What happened at the forges felt like a bad dream, looking back. She and Percy had both been frantic, terrified for Naomi, but forced onward by the stone wall blocking the way back and their side-quest from Hephaestus. Annabeth had prayed to every god whose name she knew (which was a lot) that she'd see Naomi again, that she'd be waiting for them at Hephaestus's forge or back at camp. It was the only thing that kept them moving forward.

Her disappearance had only been the beginning of things going wrong. After that, the telekhines found them, and Percy told her to run, and Annabeth kissed him, half of her heart in her throat, wishing she'd gotten the chance to kiss Naomi, too, before it was too late. Before everything got so complicated.

She was half-asleep when Naomi moved for the first time since the afternoon before.

In an instant, Annabeth was sitting up, sleep forgotten as Naomi let out a quiet groan. Her eyes opened slowly, and the remaining half of Annabeth's heart began to beat again.

Annabeth took the glass of nectar, holding the straw to Naomi's mouth. She was too groggy to question it, and she took a long sip. When she was done, her eyes looked a little clearer, more awake.

Annabeth set the glass down.

"Annie?" Naomi asked, her voice raspy.

Annabeth didn't tend to wear her heart on her sleeve, nor was she quick to tears. But she'd been through a lot, and that was what she'd say if anyone else saw her now—but there wasn't anyone around to see her, save for Naomi, and Annabeth never hid things from Naomi.

That's why when the tears came, she didn't even try to stop them.

Naomi sat up in alarm, more alert than Annabeth would have expected waking from being unconscious for so long. Annabeth's hand had already been in Naomi's, but now Naomi wrapped her hand around Annabeth's wrist, pulling her close.

Annabeth curled around Naomi, trying to stifle a sob, but it came out anyway. Naomi's hands, always delicate, carded through Annabeth's wild hair, and the tenderness made the tears come harder. Annabeth buried her face in the crook of Naomi's neck, as if to hide from the reality that had brought her to this broken state. Naomi was warm, and Annabeth hadn't stopped shivering since the maze. She felt like she could breathe again, but it hurt. Everything hurt.

When Annabeth's sobs turned into silent tears, Naomi asked gently, "What happened? Where's Percy?"

Annabeth couldn't move her face away from Naomi's neck—couldn't bear to see her face when she answered. "He's gone," she whispered, her voice cracking.

"What do you mean?" Naomi asked.

"There was an explosion," Annabeth whispered. "And he hasn't come back."

Annabeth didn't have to look to know when Naomi started crying—she felt it in the way she shifted closer, her arms wrapping around Annabeth's waist, until it was hard to tell where one girl ended and the other began. Her breathing became shaky, and Annabeth could almost feel her shift in mood—the change from confusion to grief.

"No," Naomi whispered, but it wasn't in disbelief—it was in desperate denial of a horror she didn't want to acknowledge.

They both shook, and grieved, and held onto each other for dear life, puzzle pieces clinging together—but there was a piece missing, and while two pieces could form part of the picture, enough to know what it was supposed to look like, it couldn't form the whole picture.

Annabeth wondered if the absence would ever hurt less, or if the ache was something they would have to learn to live with.

Chapter 80: xv. naomi accidentally visits canada

Chapter Text

TRYING TO EXPLAIN HER EXPERIENCE IN THE MAZE was harder than Naomi expected, especially with the question of whether her best friend was alive hanging in the air like a storm.

(Except it wasn't hanging in the air for her. As soon as the fog of the darkness and her trial cleared, she knew it the way she always did—he wasn't dead, and Naomi would go to her own grave defending that.)

"Start from the beginning, Naomi," Chiron said, his voice gentle. "Please."

Naomi was glad not to have to explain it to the whole war council—the only people to bear witness to her fumbling to talk about it in a cohesive way were Chiron and Annabeth, the rest of the cabin counselors to be filled in later. Will Solace (the newest arrival to the Apollo cabin and an overall ray of sunshine) was also there, hovering over Naomi to make sure her vitals stayed normal, but he didn't seem all to concerned about how Naomi had gotten lost in the maze and found herself magically transported back to Camp Half-Blood—he was more concerned about her blood pressure.

"Okay," Naomi said, letting out a deep breath. "So, one moment I was in the Labyrinth with Percy and Annabeth, and then it was like I was falling, or something. Truthfully, I don't really know how I slipped away, I just... did."

Annabeth's jaw ticked with tension. Her hand was still in Naomi's—it had been for a while. Naomi dreaded the moment she pulled away.

"Eventually, I stopped," Naomi continued, "and I was in this... void. No walls, no noise, just... darkness."

"Could it have been part of the Labyrinth?" Annabeth asked.

"I don't know," Naomi said. "Maybe?"

"What happened next?" Chiron asked.

"Well, after I stopped panicking, I tried to explore, figure out if there were walls or even a door, but then I found a spot in the void that burned my hand..." She looked down at her hand. She'd gotten a shower before this meeting (thank the gods), and there was no sign of the burn or the golden blood that had stained her hand before.

"Then I panicked a little more," she admitted sheepishly, remembering her hysterics. "Then I... my dad talked to me."

Annabeth frowned. "I thought you said your dad died when you were a baby?"

"He did," Naomi said softly. "But when he died, he said he... he made a deal with the darkness to live in the shadows instead of going to the Underworld... don't ask how or why, or what any of that even means, because he was pretty stingy with the details."

"Your father... what did he say?" Chiron asked.

"He explained where I was, more or less," Naomi said. "It's a darkness he said people like us have to conquer to move forward, like a test. Apparently 'those chosen by the shadows'"—she made air-quotes with her fingers—"have to walk through this darkness from Tartarus to prove our worth."

Chiron frowned, perplexed. "I've never heard of such a thing," he admitted. "But anything from that pit... it is a wonder you survived."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't a walk in the park," Naomi muttered, remembering the burning that had nearly killed her. There were no scars, but the pain was seared in her memory. "But, I got through it, and then I saw this... hand, reaching out, covered in... in ichor, I think. It was something gold. Then my dad called me Umbra Electi, and I fell again. That's when I popped into the meeting."

"Umbra Electi," Chiron echoed. "It's Latin—'shadow-chosen.' Though I've never heard the term before."

"Me either," Annabeth said quietly. "Could it be an Underworld thing?"

"I don't know," Naomi said. "I think it's something from my dad's side of the family, not my mom's. But... I don't get how. I want to ask my mom, but... I'm not sure she'd even tell me."

"I will see if there's any pre-existing mythology on the subject," Chiron promised. "For now, just rest."

Naomi bit back a protest, knowing it would be futile. The truth was, she felt fine—better than fine, even. She felt great, like she could get out of bed and run a marathon or go one-on-twenty with a bunch of automatons. She felt unstoppable.

It was as thrilling as it was frightening.

It took a full day for Naomi to convince Lee and Will she was perfectly fine, and another ten minutes to convince Annabeth that she really was okay.

Despite her constant proclamations that she felt physically great, Katie still barred her from the more strenuous camp activities—rock-climbing, pegasi-riding, sword-training. Naomi understood the worry, of course, but there were only so many hours she could spend cooped up in the greenhouse tending to the plants without getting a little crazy.

It didn't help that, as the days went on and there was no sign of Percy, the campers became more and more convinced that he wasn't coming back.

Naomi pleaded her case to anyone who would listen—that she felt when people around her were on their way out, and that she hadn't felt anything like that with Percy, that she would know if his soul had gone to the Underworld, even if he was miles away. Chiron conceded that she may have a point, but he also told her (gently, as he said most awful things) that the distance may have messed with her ability to sense death, or that she may not have even noticed it if it had happened during her time in the darkness.

To that, Naomi all but snarled that if her best friend was dead, she would know, death sense or not.

Annabeth tried to believe her—she really, truly tried, but Naomi saw the hope in her eyes grow dimmer with every day that passed. Naomi wanted to bring it back, to make her eyes bright again, but there was only so much Naomi could do to bring the light back.

In the rare moments she was left alone, Naomi took to trying to understand what the darkness had done to her. Her father had said that the darkness helped those who survived it to thrive, but she didn't know what that even meant. Despite Chiron's extensive researching, there was no literature on Umbra Electi or anything of the sort. She tried sending her mother an Iris-message, but it didn't go through.

Naomi's powers felt the same as before—she could summon shadows with a thought, could wield it like a knife the same way she had against Ethan in the winter, the night he left her. It took the same amount of energy (that was to say, fairly little) to do the things she'd already been able to do. It felt as if she'd walked through those shadows for nothing, but she knew that couldn't be true.

The darkness had to have done something. It couldn't have been for nothing.

Since she wasn't allowed to train until Lee decided she was completely fine (which Naomi doubted would be anytime soon, given how she caught Will Solace trying to secretly hover more times than she could even count), she took to trying to train with her powers. She summoned more and more complicated "shadow-friends," as she began to call them—birds, snakes, cats, dogs all made entirely of shadows. She even managed to create a lion (at least, it was shaped like a lion—as well as a shadow could be shaped like one, anyway) out of shadows that stuck around until Naomi sent it away.

A week after waking up, Naomi stood in the Demeter cabin, all of the lights turned off, ready to practice whatever shadow-teleportation she'd done to get from the Labyrinth to the Big House.

It took Naomi an embarrassing amount of time to connect her freaky teleportation to the way Skia had transported her to Camp Half-Blood years ago. She figured it was the same sort of thing, moving between shadows across great distances.

"Okay," she whispered to herself. "I can do this. Just one corner to the next."

She closed her eyes, and stepped farther into the shadows. The world felt like it flipped upside down briefly, then righted itself a moment later. Naomi opened her eyes.

If she could teleport from the Labyrinth to the Big House, teleporting from a dark corner in the Demeter cabin to the other should have been a piece of cake, right?

Judging by the French flyer in front of her... Naomi was going to go with no.

With wide eyes, Naomi snatched the flyer off of the brick wall in front of her. She was standing in an alleyway, in the shadow cast by an awning over an old-looking door. She scanned the flyer, hoping there'd be an address or town or something that told her where she'd accidentally ended up.

She finally found a city.

Gatineau, Quebec.

Naomi let out a small breath of relief. At least she was still in North America.

It helps when you aren't distracted.

Naomi jumped. "Gods!" she whisper-yelled. "You can't just sneak up on me like that!"

Her father's disembodied voice chuckled. You looked like you could use the help.

"Really?" Naomi muttered. "What gave you that impression?"

You have to be fully focused on your destination, her father advised. Otherwise the shadows will take you wherever they please.

"Any reason in particular the shadows wanted to take me to Canada?" Naomi asked.

Perhaps they want you to try poutine?

"Funny," Naomi mumbled.

I was denied sixteen years of fatherly humor, give me a break.

Naomi couldn't help but crack a smile. "Just curious—are you in every shadow, or do you just... show up whenever?"

I'm here when you need me, he answered. But I don't like to hover.

"Appreciate it," Naomi said, half-joking but half-sincere.

Focus on your home, komori, her father instructed. Before a poor Canadian sees you talking to yourself and calls the police.

Naomi closed her eyes, focusing on the image of the Demeter cabin. She stepped back into the shadows of the alleyway and nearly walked straight into the tree that grew out of the Demeter cabin floorboard.

"Hey, it worked!" Naomi said, grinning.

"What worked?"

Naomi jumped for the second time in two minutes. She put a hand on her chest, turning to see Annabeth standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

"Nothing!" Naomi said quickly.

Smooth, her father said.

"Shut up!" Naomi hissed without thinking.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

"Not you," Naomi said. "My dad."

"Oh," Annabeth said, nodding slowly. "He's... here?"

"Yeah," Naomi answered. "Kind of shadow-teleported to Canada... he showed up and helped me get back."

"Canada?" Annabeth asked, stepping into the cabin. Her expression, like it often was nowadays, was worried. "You're supposed to be resting, Buttercup, not teleporting to a different country."

Buttercup? Naomi's father asked. Is this your girlfriend?

Naomi's face grew hot. "She's not my—!" She stopped, composing herself with a deep breath. "I thought you said you didn't like to hover."

Fine, fine, her father said, and she could imagine him holding his hands up in surrender. I'll leave. She's cute, though—nice job.

"She's not—!" Naomi took a deep breath, returning her focus to Annabeth as she felt her father's presence ebb away. "Sorry."

Annabeth looked like she was torn between laughing and frowning. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Naomi said. "Seriously—you don't need to worry about me. I feel better than ever."

Annabeth sighed. She flicked on the cabin light as she stepped in farther, and Naomi blinked against the sudden light. "Sorry," she mumbled, studying one of the many houseplants inside of Cabin Four. "It's just, with Percy..." Her voice faltered.

"Hey." Naomi crossed the cabin to her, reaching for Annabeth's hand. "He's fine, too. I'm sure of it."

Annabeth met her gaze, and Naomi could see the conflict in her eyes—the desire to believe her friend fighting her fear of the worst. Her voice was tight as she said quietly, "Chiron's giving it another week. If Percy isn't back by then... we'll have no choice but to assume he's... gone."

Naomi bristled. "He can't do that," she said. "Percy—he's not dead. We can't just assume the worst because he's being held up or something."

"What else can we do?" Annabeth asked. "Two weeks is a long time to be missing, Naomi. I hate it as much as you do, but if he's not back... what else are we supposed to think?"

"He's not dead," Naomi insisted.

"I know you believe that," Annabeth whispered.

"And you don't believe me."

Annabeth's eyes looked like stars—twinkling with tears. "I want to," she whispered. "That's all I want."

Naomi's heart twisted like there was a knife in it. She wished there was a way she could make Annabeth understand her conviction—wished she could take the knowing in her chest and let Annabeth feel it, too. But all she had were her words, her assurances, and they could only go so far.

Naomi almost refused to go to the memorial out of pure spite, but she wouldn't do that to Annabeth. She wasn't even sure she could—not when the daughter of Athena was clinging to Naomi's hand like it was the last life vest on a sinking ship, the only thing helping her keep her head above water.

The sun hung low in the sky. It almost seemed like Apollo, too, was mourning, but Naomi knew it was just the time of day, that if she knew Percy wasn't dead, the gods must have, too.

The amphitheater was full, but hauntingly quiet.

Naomi clutched her best friend's burial shroud in her fist, wishing for a moment she could stuff it into her pocket and pretend she'd lost it, just so they couldn't burn it, so they couldn't make official their misguided assumption.

But they would just say it was her grief, not her conviction, that made her act out.

The flames burned hot. Naomi could feel the heat from a few feet away. She wished she could snuff them out.

"We have no choice but to assume he is dead," Chiron said, his voice grave. Naomi bit her tongue against her protest, but anyone who looked at her would see the disagreement in her eyes. "After so long a silence, it is unlikely our prayers will be answered. I have asked his best surviving friends to do the final honors."

For a moment, Naomi considered refusing, but Annabeth needed her. She needed this. So Naomi let Annabeth take the other end of Percy's shroud, and together, they set it on the flames.

Annabeth turned to face the audience, her eyes puffy from crying. Her voice was like cracking stone as she managed, "He was probably the bravest friend I've ever had. He..."

Naomi's heart stopped.

"He's right there!" she shouted.

Because there he was—Percy Jackson, in one piece, alive, just like Naomi had always known.

Heads turned. People gasped.

Annabeth's hand went slack in Naomi's—maybe out of shock, maybe because she knew what Naomi was going to do before she'd decided for herself. Naomi broke away half a second later, and before the campers could even register the fact that Percy Jackson had come to interrupt his own gods-damned funeral, Naomi was throwing her arms around him, a relief she hadn't even thought possible flooding through her.

Percy's arms wound around her waist an instant later, like he had trouble believing it was really her. Naomi knew the feeling—even after two weeks of insisting he was alive, being proven right was a heady feeling.

When they pulled away, it was only about half a foot, and Percy's hands came up to hold Naomi's face. "What happened to you?" he asked. "You just disappeared, and then there was the explosion, and—"

"What happened to me?" Naomi asked. "What happened to you? I showed back up and Annabeth said you were missing and—"

Chiron cantered over, clearing his throat as the campers made way for him.

"Well," he said, clearly relieved. "I don't believe I've ever been happier to see a camper return. But you must tell me—"

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Annabeth demanded, shoving aside the other campers. Naomi stepped back, wondering if Annabeth would punch him, but instead she hugged him like she was terrified to let go. Then she realized everyone was watching and pushed him away. "I—we thought you were dead, Seaweed Brain!"

"I'm sorry," Percy said. "I got lost."

"LOST?" Annabeth yelled. "Two weeks, Percy? Where in the world—"

"Annabeth," Chiron interrupted. "Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more private, shall we? The rest of you, back to your normal activities!"

Without waiting for them to protest, Chiron picked up the trio like they were rowdy kittens and slung them onto his back, galloping off toward the Big House.

Chapter 81: xvi. percy has a lot of confusing feelings

Summary:

Percy POV

Chapter Text

PERCY EXPLAINED EVERYTHING. How he'd caused the explosion at Mount St. Helens and got blasted out of the volcano, ending up marooned on an island before Hephaestus found him and a magic raft carried him back to camp. He left out the parts about Calypso—it was too hard to talk about just yet, especially in front of Naomi and Annabeth. Percy decided not to try to analyze why mentioning the daughter of Atlas to either of them made him feel like he was dangling off a cliff.

"You've been gone two weeks." Annabeth's voice was steadier than before, but she still looked shaken. "When I heard the explosion, I thought—"

"I know," Percy said. "I'm sorry. But I figured out how to get through the Labyrinth. I talked to Hephaestus."

"He told you the answer?" Naomi asked.

"Well, he sort of told me that I already knew," Percy said. "And I do. I understand now."

He told them his idea.

Annabeth's jaw dropped. "Percy, that's crazy!"

Chiron sat back in his wheelchair and stroked his beard. "There is a precedent, however. Theseus had the help of Ariadne. Harriet Tubman, daughter of Hermes, used many mortals on her Underground Railroad for just this reason."

"But this is my quest," Annabeth protested. "I need to lead it."

Chiron shifted uncomfortably. "My dear, it is your quest. But you need help."

"And this is supposed to help? Please! It's wrong. It's cowardly. It's—"

"Hard to admit we need a mortal's help," Percy said. "But it's true."

Annabeth glared at him. "You are the single most annoying person I have ever met!" She stormed out of the room, and Naomi was right behind her, shooting Percy a look as if to say, I'll talk to her.

Percy wondered when Naomi had become Annabeth's person instead of his.

Again, he tried not to dwell on the way that made him feel.

He stared at the doorway, his jaw tense. "So much for being the bravest friend she's ever had."

"She will calm down," Chiron promised. "She's jealous, my boy."

"That's stupid," Percy said. "She's not... it's not like..."

Chiron chuckled. "It hardly matters. Annabeth is very territorial about her friends, in case you haven't noticed. She was quite worried about you. And now that you're back, I think she suspects where you were marooned."

Percy met the centaur's eyes, and he knew Chiron had guessed about Calypso. It was hard to hide anything from a guy who'd been training heroes for three thousand years. He'd seen it all.

"We won't dwell on your choices," Chiron said. "You came back. That is all that matters."

"Tell that to Annabeth."

Chiron smiled. "In the morning I will have Argus take the three of you into Manhattan. You might stop by your mother's, Percy. She is... understandably distraught."

Percy's heart skipped a beat. His mother must have been devastated, thinking he was dead. How had he not even considered her until now?

"Chiron," Percy said, "what about Grover and Tyson? Do you think—"

"I don't know, my boy." Chiron gazed into the empty fireplace. "Juniper is quite distressed. All her branches are turning yellow. The Council of Cloven Elders has revoked Grover's searcher license in absentia. Assuming he comes back alive, they will force him into a shameful exile." He sighed. "Grover and Tyson are very resourceful, however. We can still hope."

"I shouldn't have let them run off."

"Grover has his own destiny, and Tyson was brave to follow him. You would know if Grover was in mortal danger, don't you think?"

"I suppose. The empathy link. But—"

"There is something else I should tell you, Percy," he said. "Actually two unpleasant things."

"Great."

"Chris Rodriguez, our guest..."

Percy remembered what he'd seen in the basement—Clarisse trying to talk to him while he babbled about the Labyrinth. "Is he dead?"

"Not yet," Chiron said grimly. "But he's much worse. He's in the infirmary now, too weak to move. I had to order Clarisse back to her regular schedule, because she was at his bedside constantly. He doesn't respond to anything. He won't take food or drink. None of my medicines help. He has simply lost the will to live."

Percy shuddered. Despite his rivalry with Clarisse, he felt horrible for her. She'd tried so hard to help Chris. And now that Percy had been in the Labyrinth himself, he could understand why it had been so easy for Minos to drive Chris mad. If Percy had been wandering around down there alone, without his friends, he never would have made it out.

"I'm sorry to say," Chiron continued, "the other news is less pleasant still. Quintus has disappeared."

"Disappeared? How?"

"Three nights ago he slipped into the Labyrinth. Juniper watched him go. It appears you may have been right about him."

"He's a spy for Luke." Percy told Chiron about the Triple G Ranch—how Quintus had bought his scorpions there and how Geryon had been supplying Kronos's army. "It can't be a coincidence."

Chiron sighed heavily. "So many betrayals. I had hoped Quintus would prove a friend. It seems my judgment was bad."

"What about Mrs. O'Leary?" Percy asked.

"The hellhound is still in the arena," Chiron told him. "Only Naomi has had any success approaching her. She tried to send her back to the Underworld, but the poor creature seems adamant to stay. I did not have the heart to force it into a cage, nor would Naomi stand to see her destroyed."

"Quintus wouldn't just leave her."

"As I said, Percy, we seem to have been wrong about him. Now, you should prepare yourself for the morning. You, Naomi, and Annabeth still have much to do."

Percy left Chiron in his wheelchair, staring sadly into the fireplace. He wondered how many times the immortal had sat there, waiting for heroes that never came back.

Before dinner, Percy stopped by the sword arena. He wasn't that surprised to see Naomi already in there, Mrs. O'Leary's head resting pitifully in her lap.

When the hellhound spotted Percy, she barked and came bounding toward him. Percy thought he was dead, and only just had time to say, "Whoa!" before Mrs. O'Leary bowled him over and started licking his face.

"Whoa, girl!" he yelled. "Can't breathe. Lemme up!"

Percy eventually managed to get her off him. Naomi came over as he scratched the hellhound's ears, leaning into his side without a word. One of the many knots in his chest unwound as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

At least she wasn't mad at him.

A question gnawed at Percy, and he finally asked after a moment, "Where'd you go?" His voice was soft enough that she couldn't hear how close it was to breaking. "One second you were there, the next you were gone."

"I had to take a test," she murmured. "Walk through painful darkness, get some advice from my dead dad, and now my shadow powers are stronger. That's the gist of it, anyway."

Percy nodded slowly. "You're not going to disappear like that again, are you?"

"Don't know," she said. "Are you going to get marooned on any more islands?"

He rolled his eyes, face warming. "Cute."

"I've been told I'm adorable."

He rolled his eyes again, and hoped she didn't notice the way his face flushed even hotter.

Percy turned toward Mrs. O'Leary. "Where's your master?" he asked. "How could he just leave you, huh?"

She whimpered like she wanted to know that, too. Percy was ready to believe Quintus was the enemy, but he still couldn't quite believe that he'd just leave Mrs. O'Leary behind. If there was one thing Percy was sure of, it was that Quintus really cared for his mega-dog.

"You're lucky she didn't bite your head off."

Percy looked up. Clarisse was standing at the other end of the arena with her sword and shield. "Came here to practice yesterday," she grumbled. "Dog tried to chew me up."

"She smelled your hostility," Naomi said off-handedly.

Clarisse rolled her eyes. "Funny."

She walked toward them. Mrs. O'Leary growled, but Percy patted her on the head and calmed her down.

"Stupid hellhound," Clarisse said. "Not going to keep me from practicing."

"I heard about Chris," Percy said. "I'm sorry."

Clarisse paced a circle around the arena. When she came to the nearest dummy, she attacked viciously, chopping its head off with a single blow and driving her sword through its straw guts. She pulled the sword out and kept walking.

"Yeah, well. Sometimes things go wrong." Her voice was shaky. "Heroes get hurt. They... they die, and the monsters keep coming back."

She picked up a javelin and threw it across the arena. It nailed a dummy straight between the eyeholes of its helmet.

She had called Chris a hero, like he had never gone over to the Titans' side. It reminded Percy of the way Annabeth sometimes talked about Luke. He decided not to bring it up.

"Chris was brave," he said. "I hope he gets better."

Clarisse glared at him as if Percy were her next target. Mrs. O'Leary growled.

"Do me a favor," Clarisse said.

"Yeah, sure."

"If you find Daedalus, don't trust him. Don't ask him for help. Just kill him."

"Clarisse—"

"Because anybody who can make something like the Labyrinth, Percy? That person is evil. Plain evil."

For a second, she reminded Percy of Eurytion the cowherd, her much older half-brother. She had the same hard look in her eyes, as if she'd been used for the past two thousand years and was getting tired of it.

She sheathed her sword. "Practice time is over. From now on, it's for real."

After dreaming of King Minos's murder and Luke's wanderings in the maze, Percy rode into the city with Naomi, Annabeth, and Argus.

It was a quiet ride. Argus never spoke, Annabeth didn't seem keen on talking to Percy, and Naomi looked queasy, as if she hadn't gotten much more sleep than he had.

"Bad dreams?" he asked.

Naomi shook her head. "Iris-message from Eurytion."

"Eurytion? Is something wrong with Nico?"

"He left the ranch last night, heading back into the maze."

"What? Didn't Eurytion try to stop him?"

"Nico was gone before he woke up," Naomi explained. "Orthus tracked his scent as far as the cattle grid. Eurytion said he'd been hearing Nico talk to himself the last few nights. Now he thinks Nico might have been talking to Minos's ghost again."

"He's in danger," Percy said.

"No kidding," Annabeth said from Naomi's other side, speaking for the first time since they'd set off. "Minos is one of the judges of the dead, but he's got a vicious streak a mile wide. I don't know what he wants with Nico, but—"

"That's not what I meant," Percy said. "I had this dream last night..." He told them about Luke, how he'd mentioned Quintus, and how his men had found a half-blood alone in the maze.

Naomi looked frantic with worry. "That's really, really bad."

"So what do we do?" Percy asked.

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Well, it's a good thing you have a plan to guide us, huh?"

It was Saturday, and traffic was heavy going into the city. They arrived at Percy's mom's apartment around noon. When she answered the door, she gave Percy a hug only slightly less overwhelming than having a hellhound jump on you.

"I told them you were alright," his mom said, but she sounded like the weight of the sky had been lifted from her shoulders.

She sat the trio down at the kitchen table and insisted on feeding them her special blue chocolate-chip cookies while they filled her in on the quest. As usual, Percy tried to water down the frightening parts (which was almost everything), but somehow that just made it sound more dangerous.

When he got to the part about Geryon and the stables, his mom pretended like she was going to strangle him. "I can't get him to clean his room, but he'll clean a hundred tons of horse manure out of some monster's stables?"

Annabeth laughed. It was the first time Percy had heard her laugh in a long time. It was nice to hear.

"So," Sally said when Percy was done with the story, "you wrecked Alcatraz Island, made Mount St. Helens explode, and displaced half a million people, but at least you're safe."

"Yep," Percy agreed. "That pretty much covers it."

"I wish Paul were here," his mom said, half to herself. "He wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, right. The school."

So much had happened since then that Percy had almost forgotten about the orientation at Goode—the fact that he'd left the band hall in flames, and his mom's boyfriend had last seen him jumping through a window like a fugitive.

"What did you tell him?" Percy asked.

Sally shook her head. "What could I say? He knows something is different about you, Percy. He's a smart man. He believes that you're not a bad person. He doesn't know what's going on, but the school is pressuring him. After all, he got you admitted there. He needs to convince them the fire wasn't your fault. And since you ran away, that looks bad."

Annabeth was studying Percy. She looked pretty sympathetic. He knew she'd been in similar situations. It was never easy for a half-blood in the mortal world.

"I'll talk to him," Percy promised. "After we're done with the quest. I'll even tell him the truth if you want."

His mom put her hand on his shoulder. "You would do that?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, he'll think we're crazy."

"He already thinks that."

"Then there's nothing to lose."

"Thank you, Percy. I'll tell him you'll be home..." She frowned. "When? What happens now?"

Annabeth broke her cookie in half. "Percy has this plan."

Reluctantly, Percy told his mom.

She nodded slowly. "It sounds very dangerous. But it might work."

"You have the same abilities, don't you?" Percy asked. "You can see through the Mist."

Sally sighed. "Not so much now. When I was younger it was easier. But yes, I've always been able to see more than was good for me. It's one of the things that caught your father's attention, when we first met. Just be careful. Promise me you'll be safe."

"We'll try, Ms. Jackson," Annabeth said. "Keeping your son safe is a big job, though." She folded her arms and glared out the kitchen window. Percy picked at his napkin and tried not to say anything. Naomi was stuck between them, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else than in the middle of their standoff.

Sally frowned. "What's going on with you two? Have you been fighting?"

Neither Percy nor Annabeth said anything. Naomi busied herself with breaking her cookie into tiny pieces so as not to speak.

"I see," his mom said, and he wondered if she could see through more than just the Mist. She patted Naomi's arm sympathetically. "Well, just remember," she said, "Grover and Tyson are counting on you three."

"I know," Annabeth and Percy said at the same time, which embarrassed him even more.

His mom smiled. "Percy, you'd better use the phone in the hall. Good luck."

Chapter 82: xvii. the graveyard arena

Chapter Text

THEY ARRANGED A MEETING IN TIMES SQUARE. Naomi, Percy, and Annabeth found Rachel Elizabeth Dare in front of the Marriott Marquis, and she was painted entirely gold. Like, entirely—her face, her hair, her clothes. She looked like she'd had a run-in with King Midas, standing like a statue with five other kids all painted metallic—copper, bronze, silver. They were frozen in different poses while tourists hustled past or stopped to stare. Some passers-by threw money at the tarp on the sidewalk.

The sign at Rachel's feet said, URBAN ART FOR KIDS—DONATIONS APPRECIATED.

Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy stood there for a solid five minutes, staring at Rachel, but if she noticed them she didn't let on.

"Maybe if we push her over," Annabeth suggested.

Naomi frowned at her. "That's mean."

Annabeth huffed. "It was just a suggestion."

After another few minutes, a kid in silver walked up from the hotel taxi stand, where he'd been taking a break. He took a pose like he was lecturing the crowd, right next to Rachel. Rachel unfroze and stepped off the tarp.

"Hey, Percy." She grinned. "Good timing! Let's get coffee."

They walked down to a place called the Java Moose on West 43rd. Rachel ordered an Espresso Extreme (something Grover would like). Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy got fruit smoothies and sat at a table right under the stuffed moose. Nobody even looked twice at Rachel in her golden outfit.

"So," she said. "It's Annabelle and Natalie, right?"

"Annabeth and Naomi," Annabeth corrected her. "Do you always dress in gold?"

"Not usually," Rachel said. "We're raising money for our group. We do volunteer art projects for elementary kids 'cause they're cutting art from the schools, you know? We do this once a month, take in about five hundred dollars on a good weekend. But I'm guessing you don't want to talk about that. You guys are half-bloods, too?"

"Shhh!" Annabeth said, looking around. "Just announce it to the world, how about?"

"Okay." Rachel stood up and said really loud, "Hey, everybody! These three aren't human! They're half Greek god!"

Nobody even looked over. Rachel shrugged and sat down. "They don't seem to care."

"That's not funny," Annabeth said. "This isn't a joke, mortal girl."

"Hold it, you two," Percy said. "Just calm down."

"I'm calm," Rachel insisted. "Every time I'm around you, some monster attacks us. What's to be nervous about?"

"Look," Percy said. "I'm really sorry about the band room. I hope they didn't kick you out or anything."

"Nah. They asked me a lot of questions about you. I played dumb."

"Was it hard?" Annabeth asked.

Naomi looked at her imploringly, reaching for her hand under the table. "Be nice?" she whispered.

Annabeth scowled, but let Naomi hold her hand.

"Rachel, we've got a problem," Percy said. "And we need your help."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at Annabeth. "You need my help?"

Annabeth stirred her straw in her smoothie. "Yeah," she muttered. "Maybe."

Percy told Rachel about the Labyrinth, and how they needed to find Daedalus. He told her what had happened the last few times they'd gone.

"So you want me to guide you," she said, "through a place I've never been."

"You can see through the Mist," Percy explained. "Just like Ariadne. I'm betting you can see the right path. The Labyrinth won't be able to fool you as easily."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then we'll get lost. Either way, it'll be dangerous. Very, very dangerous."

"I could die?"

"Yeah."

"I thought you said monsters don't care about mortals. That sword of yours—"

"Yeah," Percy said. "Celestial bronze doesn't hurt mortals. Most monsters would ignore you. But Luke... he doesn't care. He'll use mortals, demigods, monsters, whatever. And he'll kill anyone who gets in his way."

"Nice guy," Rachel said.

"He's under the influence of a Titan," Annabeth said defensively, her fingers tensing in Naomi's hand. "He's been deceived."

Rachel looked back and forth between Percy and Annabeth. "Okay," she said. "I'm in."

Naomi blinked. "Really?"

"Hey, my summer was going to be boring. This is the best offer I've had yet. So what do I look for?"

"We have to find an entrance to the Labyrinth," Annabeth said. "There's an entrance at Camp Half-Blood, but you can't go there. It's off-limits to mortals."

She said mortals like it was some sort of terrible condition, but Rachel just nodded. "Okay. What does an entrance to the Labyrinth look like?"

"It could be anything," Annabeth said. "A section of wall. A boulder. A doorway. A sewer entrance. But it would have the mark of Daedalus on it. A Greek , glowing in blue."

"Like this?" Rachel drew the symbol Delta in water on the table.

"That's it," Annabeth said. "You know Greek?"

"No," Rachel said. She pulled a big blue plastic hairbrush from her pocket and started brushing the gold out of her hair. "Let me get changed. You'd better come with me to the Marriott."

"Why?" Annabeth said.

"Because there's an entrance like that in the hotel basement, where we store our costumes. It's got the mark of Daedalus."

The metal door was half-hidden behind a laundry bin full of dirty hotel towels. Naomi didn't see anything strange about it, but then Rachel pointed out the faint blue symbol etched in the metal.

"It hasn't been used in a long time," Annabeth said.

"I tried to open it once," Rachel said, "just out of curiosity. It's rusted shut."

"No." Annabeth stepped forward. "It just needs the touch of a half-blood."

Sure enough, as soon as Annabeth put her hand on the mark, it glowed blue. The metal door unsealed and creaked open, revealing a dark staircase leading down.

"Wow." Rachel looked calm, which Naomi had to give her credit for. "So... after you?"

"You're the guide," Annabeth said with mock politeness. "Lead on."

The stairs led down to a large brick tunnel. It was dark, but Naomi could see through it with ease, and besides, they'd restocked with flashlights. As soon as they switched them on, Rachel yelped.

A skeleton was grinning at them. It wasn't human. It was huge, at least ten feet tall and strung up, chained by its wrists and ankles so it made a kind of giant X over the tunnel. What really made Naomi uneasy, though, was the single black eye socket in the center of its skull.

"A Cyclops," Naomi said. "It's really old—not anybody we know."

Rachel swallowed. "You have a friend who's a Cyclops?"

"Tyson," Percy said. "My half-brother."

"Your half-brother?"

"Hopefully we'll find him down here," Percy said. "And Grover. He's a satyr."

"Oh." Her voice was small. "Well then, we'd better keep moving."

She stepped under the skeleton's left arm and kept walking. Naomi, Percy, and Annabeth exchanged looks. Annabeth shrugged. They followed Rachel deeper into the maze.

After fifty feet they came to a crossroads. Ahead, the brick tunnel continued. To the right, the walls were made of ancient marble slabs. To the left, the tunnel was earth and tree roots.

Percy pointed left. "That looks like the tunnel Tyson and Grover took."

Annabeth frowned. "Yeah, but the architecture to the right—those old stones—that's more likely to lead to an ancient part of the maze, toward Daedalus's workshop."

"We need to go straight," Rachel said.

Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy looked at her.

"That's the least likely choice," Annabeth said.

"You don't see it?" Rachel asked. "Look at the floor."

Naomi saw nothing but well-worn bricks and mud.

"There's a brightness there," Rachel insisted. "Very faint. But forward is the correct way. To the left, farther down the tunnel, those tree roots are moving like feelers. I don't like that. To the right, there's a trap about twenty feet down. Holes in the walls, maybe for spikes. I don't think we should risk it."

Percy nodded. "Okay. Forward."

"You believe her?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah," Percy said. "Don't you?"

Annabeth looked like she wanted to argue, but she waved at Rachel to lead on. Together they kept walking down the brick corridor. It twisted and turned, but there were no more side tunnels. They seemed to be angling down, deeper underground.

"No traps?" Percy asked anxiously.

"Nothing." Rachel knitted her eyebrows. "Should it be this easy?"

"I don't know," Percy said. "It never was before."

"So, Rachel," Annabeth said, "where are you from, exactly?"

She said it like, What planet are you from? but Rachel didn't look offended.

"Brooklyn," she said.

"Aren't your parents going to be worried if you're out late?"

Rachel exhaled. "Not likely. I could be gone a week and they'd never notice."

"Why not?" This time Annabeth didn't sound as sarcastic. Having trouble with parents was something she understood.

Before Rachel could answer, there was a creaking noise in front of them, like huge doors opening.

"What was that?" Annabeth asked.

"I don't know," Rachel said. "Metal hinges."

"Oh, that's very helpful. I mean, what is it?"

Then Naomi heard heavy footsteps shaking the corridor—coming toward them.

"Run?" Naomi asked.

"Run," Rachel agreed.

They turned and fled the way they'd come, but they hadn't made it twenty feet before they ran straight into some old friends. Two dracaenae—snake women in Greek armor—leveled their javelins at their chests. Standing between them was a cheerleader with one donkey leg and one bronze leg. Naomi hoped she wasn't a flier, because that bronze leg had to be heavy.

"Well, well," the cheerleader said.

Naomi summoned Hemlock and Asphodel, but before she could even blink, the cheerleader pounced on Rachel. Her hand turned into a claw and she spun Rachel around, holding her tight with her talons at Rachel's neck.

"Taking your little mortal pet for a walk?" the cheerleader asked Percy. "They're such fragile things. So easy to break!"

Behind them, the footsteps came closer. A huge form appeared out of the gloom—an eight-foot-all Laistrygonian giant with red eyes and fangs.

The giant licked his lips when he saw them. "Can I eat them?"

"No," the cheerleader said. "Your master will want these. They will provide a great deal of entertainment." She smiled at Percy. "Now march, half-bloods. Or you all die here, starting with the mortal girl."

They were marched down the tunnel flanked by dracaenae, with the cheerleader and the giant at the back, just in case they tried to run for it.

Up ahead Naomi could see bronze doors. They were about ten feet tall, emblazoned with a pair of crossed swords. From behind them came a muffled roar, like a crowd.

"Oh, yessssss," said the snake woman on Percy's left. "You'll be very popular with our hossssst."

"Who's your host?" Percy asked.

She hissed, which might have been a laugh. "Oh, you'll sssssee. You'll get along furiousssly. He'ssss your brother, after all."

"My what?"

The giant pushed past them and opened the doors. He picked up Naomi and Annabeth by the backs of their shirts and said, "You stay here."

"Hey!" Annabeth protested, but the guy was twice her size and he'd already confiscated their weapons. Naomi's hands were already bound from wrist to fingertips, so there was no way she could do anything, even when her rings inevitably reappeared on her fingers.

They'd learned, apparently.

At least they didn't just break my hands this time.

The cheerleader demon laughed. She still had her claws at Rachel's neck. "Go on, Percy. Entertain us. We'll wait here with your friends to make sure you behave."

Percy looked at Rachel. "I'm sorry. I'll get you out of this."

She nodded as much as she could with a demon at her throat. "That would be nice."

The dracaenae prodded Percy toward the doorway at javelin. The cheerleader marched Rachel through the door after him, and the giant followed, half-dragging and half-carrying Naomi and Annabeth inside.

Naomi felt like she'd just entered a graveyard.

There were skulls everywhere. They ringed the edge of the railing; there were piles of them decorating the steps between the bleachers; some grinned from pikes at the back of the stands or hung on chains from the ceiling. Some looked very old, bleached white with age, but others looked a lot fresher.

The arena itself was only impressive in relation to its location underground. The bleachers were filled with all kinds of monsters, with half-bloods sprinkled in among their ranks. Naomi didn't let her gaze linger too long on the crowd—the last thing she wanted at the moment was to see someone she recognized.

Above the banner, sitting in a seat of honor, was an old enemy.

"Luke," Percy said.

Luke smiled coldly. Next to him sat the biggest giant Naomi had ever seen, even larger than the one in the middle of the arena currently fighting a centaur. This giant must have been fifteen feet tall, easy, and so wide he took up three seats. He wore only a loincloth, and his skin was dark red, tattooed with blue wave designs.

There was a cry from the arena floor, and the centaur crashed to the ground beside Percy.

Naomi closed her eyes. She knew what was coming.

"DEATH! DEATH!" the crowd roared.

The centaur pleaded, but there was no mercy in this place.

When Naomi finally got the nerve to open her eyes, all that was left of the centaur was a single hoof. The giant scooped it up and showed it to the crowd like it was a trophy. The monsters and half-bloods roared their approval.

A gate opened at the opposite end of the stadium and the giant marched out in triumph.

In the stands, the bigger giant raised his hands for silence.

"Good entertainment!" he bellowed. "But nothing I haven't seen before. What else do you have, Luke, Son of Hermes?"

Luke's jaw tightened. It was clear he didn't like being called son of Hermes. He hated his father. But he rose calmly. His eyes glittered.

"Lord Antaeus," Luke said, loud enough for the crowd to hear, "you have been an excellent host! We would be happy to amuse you, to repay the favor of passing through your territory."

"A favor I have not yet granted," Antaeus growled. "I want entertainment!"

Luke bowed. "I believe I have something better than centaurs to fight in your arena now. I have a brother of yours." He pointed at Percy. "Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."

The crowd began jeering at him and throwing stones, most of which he dodged, but one caught him on the cheek and made a good-sized cut.

Antaeus's eyes lit up. "A son of Poseidon? Then he should fight well! Or die well!"

"If his death pleases you," Luke said, "will you let our armies cross your territory?"

"Perhaps!" Antaeus said.

Luke didn't look too pleased about the "perhaps." He glared down at Percy, as if warning him that he'd better die spectacularly or he'd be in trouble.

"Luke!" Annabeth yelled. "Stop this. Let us go!"

Luke seemed to notice her for the first time. He looked stunned for a moment. "Annabeth?"

"Enough time for the females to fight afterward," Antaeus interrupted. "First, Percy Jackson, what weapons will you choose?"

The dracaenae pushed him into the middle of the arena.

Percy stared up at Antaeus. "How can you be a son of Poseidon?"

"I am his favorite son!" Antaeus boomed. "Behold, my temple to the Earthshaker, built from the skulls of all those I've killed in his name! Your skull shall join them!"

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "His mother is Gaea! Gae—"

The Laistrygonian clamped his hands over hers and Naomi's mouths to shut them up. Naomi resisted the urge to bite his hand.

"You're crazy, Antaeus," Percy said. "If you think this is a good tribute, you know nothing about Poseidon."

The crowd screamed insults at him, but Antaeus raised his hand for silence.

"Weapons," he insisted. "And then we will see how you die. Will you have axes? Shields? Nets? Flamethrowers?"

"Just my sword," he said.

Laughter erupted from the monsters, but immediately Riptide appeared in his hands, and some of the voices in the crowd turned nervous. The bronze blade glowed with a faint light.

"Round one!" Antaeus announced. The gates opened, and a dracaena slithered out. She had a trident in one hand and a weighted net in the other—a classic gladiator style. Naomi's nerves lessened a bit—they trained against those weapons at camp. Percy could handle it.

The dracaena jabbed at Percy experimentally. He stepped away. She threw her net, hoping to table his sword hand, but Percy sidestepped easily, sliced her spear in half, and stabbed Riptide through a chink in her armor. With a painful wail, the monster vaporized into nothing, and the cheering of the crowd died.

"No!" Antaeus bellowed. "Too fast! You must wait for the kill. Only I give that order!"

Percy looked over at his friends, the space between his brow pinching like he was thinking hard.

"Nice job, Percy." Luke smiled. "You've got better with the sword. I'll grant you that."

"Round two!" Antaeus yelled. "And slower this time! More entertainment! Wait for my call before killing anybody, OR ELSE!"

The gates opened again, and this time a young warrior came out. Naomi recognized him in an instant, her breath catching.

"Ethan!"

Chapter 83: xviii. mercy and war

Chapter Text

ETHAN LOOKED RIGHT AT HER, and Naomi hated how cold his eye looked now. It was as if they'd never been friends—as if they had always been strangers.

Percy's body tensed. This time, he looked more ready to fight, but the giant held up a hand.

"A friend of yours?" Antaeus asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at Naomi.

Luke looked at him nervously. "Lord Antaeus?"

Antaeus ignored him, looking from Naomi to Ethan. "I asked for entertainment," he said, his voice booming. "What could be more entertaining than two old friends battling to the death?"

"It's my fight!" Percy yelled up at him. "You just said—"

Antaeus waved a hand at him, and a different pair of dracaenae grabbed each of his arms, a giant coming to disarm him before could even raise his sword.

"Lord Antaeus," Luke tried again. "That's the forbidden daughter, you can't—"

"I can do as I please," Antaeus said with a dangerous glare. "Let us see if the daughter of Persephone is worthy of her role in this war. Approach, girl."

The Laistrygonian let go of her, and another woman with a bronze leg and a donkey leg grabbed Naomi's arm, dragging her to the middle of the arena. Naomi's heart pounded like she was being marched to the guillotine.

"Well," Antaeus said once she stood in the arena. "You certainly don't look like much."

Naomi said nothing to that.

"Follow the rules," the giant bellowed. "Wait for my call to make the killing blow, otherwise your little friends will suffer for it."

Naomi took a deep breath, raising her tied-up hands. "I can't fight with my hands bound."

Antaeus nodded at the donkey-legged woman, who slashed through Naomi's bonds with her claw. Naomi flexed her hands, trying to get the circulation going again. Her rings were back on her fingers, ready for the fight.

Naomi didn't feel the same.

Naomi looked at Ethan. He looked the same as she remembered—of course he did. It felt like another lifetime, but his betrayal had only been half a year ago. His armor hung loosely on his wiry body. His horsehair helmet was almost too big. He was built for speed, not strength, but the oversized armor worked against that.

"Ethan," she said, her voice low. "We don't have to do this."

His jaw was tense—clenched. "I have to kill you," he said.

Naomi wished she could hear remorse in his voice, but it was blank—just like his expression. Gone were the days when she could read him like a book. Maybe those days had been fiction, too—maybe he'd only let her see what he wanted her to see, showing her just enough pieces to make her think she had the whole puzzle of who Ethan Nakamura was.

"Why are you doing this?" Naomi whispered.

"I have to prove myself," he said. Maybe his voice shook, or maybe it was just wishful thinking. Naomi couldn't be sure. "It's the only way."

And with that he charged. There was no more preamble.

Naomi's swords came out in an instant, even before she consciously summoned them. Asphodel met his sword in midair and the crowd roared.

Ethan pressed forward. Naomi had fought him before in training countless times, and it was clear he'd kept training since she saw him last. She struck with Hemlock, keeping Asphodel locked with his sword, but he raised his shield to block the hit. There was an awful noise as his blade sliced across Asphodel's, and he tried to slash with it, but Naomi was quick and parried.

Ethan had never fought her with two swords, so she should have been at an advantage, but she didn't want to hurt him. She held back.

He didn't.

He slashed. Naomi blocked parried. He tried to slam her with his shield, but she twisted out of the way, slicing with Hemlock. She didn't want to use Asphodel against him, knowing even a nick from Stygian iron was agony.

Naomi caught his cheek with the hilt of Hemlock, and he staggered back a few steps.

"Blood!" the monsters cried.

Ethan glanced up at the stands. That was his weakness, it had always been—he wanted to be admired, to impress. If Naomi didn't know him, didn't care about him, she would have exploited it without remorse.

But she did know him. She did care.

Ethan charged at her, but she parried his blade with Asphodel and slashed with Hemlock, purposefully missing. She backed away, letting him come after her.

"Booo!" Antaeus said. "Stand and fight!"

Ethan pressed her, but she had no trouble defending. Ethan was dressed for defense—heavy armor and shield—which made it hard for him to play offense. Naomi was a softer target, but she was also lighter and faster.

The crowd went nuts, hurling complaints and rocks with equal vigor. Naomi and Ethan had been fighting for almost five minutes and there had barely been a drop of blood.

"Ethan, listen to me," she hissed. "You don't have to do this."

"I already told you," he hissed back, trying to jab at her side, but she blocked with Asphodel. "I'm bringing balance back to the world."

"Kronos doesn't do balance," Naomi insisted.

Ethan wouldn't listen. He fought harder, as if they'd never been friends, as if they'd been enemies from the very beginning. Naomi was forced to match his anger, if only to keep herself from being skewered.

Naomi kicked the shield out of his grip. When Ethan tried to bring his sword down on top of her head, she caught the blade in the valley between Asphodel and Hemlock, employing the same technique Quintus had taught her weeks ago.

She twisted Hemlock over Ethan's sword, and it fell to the ground with a dull thud. Ethan stood before her, weaponless, defenseless.

Naomi lowered her swords. She didn't care what Antaeus ordered—she wouldn't kill Ethan. She wouldn't kill a boy who'd once been her friend.

There was still good inside of him. She was sure of it.

So sure she almost missed the knife he slipped from his sleeve.

There was a shout behind her—a warning. Naomi only just managed to twist out of the way. Where the blade should have pierced her side, it only grazed it.

She raised Hemlock, slicing Ethan's forearm deep enough to make his hand open, the knife falling from his hand.

He let out a strangled cry at the injury—the same place she'd cut him six months ago with her shadow. He staggered backward, and Naomi jabbed Hemlock at his breastplate, knocking him backward, off of his feet.

Her heart pounded with adrenaline, with the fact that he'd been a second, an inch, a breath away from stabbing her, from killing her.

And he barely even looked sorry.

Naomi put the tip of Hemlock to his throat.

"Get it over with," Ethan hissed at her.

Naomi looked up at Antaeus. His red face was stony with displeasure, but he held up his hand, his thumb pointed at the ground.

Naomi looked back at Ethan.

"Forget it." She willed her swords back into rings.

"Don't be an idiot, Naomi," Ethan groaned. "They'll just kill us both."

"I'm not like you," Naomi said, her voice tight. "I'm not going to kill my friend."

She offered him her hand. There was a glint in his eye—the first glimpse at the Ethan she knew, hesitant to accept help, but conceding when he knew he needed it.

Reluctantly, he took her hand, and let her help him up.

"You just signed both of our death certificates," he hissed in a whisper.

"I'd rather die a coward than a killer," Naomi hissed back.

"No one dishonors the games!" Antaeus bellowed from his throne. "Your heads shall both be tributes to Poseidon!"

"Why don't you fight me?" Percy yelled up at the giant. "If you've got Dad's favor, come down here and prove it."

The monsters grumbled in the stands. Antaeus looked around, and apparently realized he had no choice. He couldn't say no without looking like a coward.

"I am the greatest wrestler in the world, boy," he warned. "I have been wrestling since the first pankration!"

"Pankration?" Percy asked.

"He means fighting to the death," Ethan explained. "No rules. No holds barred. It used to be an Olympic sport."

Percy glared at him. "Thanks for the tip."

Ethan glared back. "Don't mention it."

Percy pointed his sword at Antaeus. "Winner takes all! I win, we all go free. You win, we die. Swear upon the River Styx."

Antaeus laughed. "This shouldn't take long. I swear to your terms!"

He leaped off the railing into the arena.

Naomi reached for Percy's free hand. "You can do this," she whispered.

Percy squeezed her hand, then let go, and she backed up, Ethan close behind.

The giant cracked his knuckles. He grinned, and Naomi saw that even his teeth were etched in wave patterns, which couldn't have been a pleasant experience.

"Weapons?" he asked.

"I'll stick with my sword," Percy said. "You?"

Antaeus held up his huge hands and wiggled his fingers. "I don't need anything else! Master Luke, you will referee this one."

Luke smiled down at Percy. "With pleasure."

Antaeus lunged. Percy rolled under his legs and stabbed him in the back of his thigh.

"Argggh!" he yelled. But where there should have been blood was only sand. It spilled to the ground, and the earth rose up to collect around his leg, almost like a cast. When it fell away, the wound was gone.

He charged again. Percy dodged sideways this time and stabbed him under the arm. His sword was buried to the hilt in Antaeus's ribs, but it was wrenched out of Percy's grip as the giant turned, and Percy was thrown across the arena, weaponless.

Antaeus bellowed in pain. Naomi waited for him to disintegrate like all monsters did, but he groped for the hilt, pulling out the sword and tossing it behind him. More sand poured from the wound, but again the earth rose up to cover him. Dirt coated his body all the way to his shoulders. As soon as the dirt spilled away, Antaeus was fine.

"Now you see why I never lose, demigod!" Antaeus gloated. "Come here and let me crush you. I'll make it quick!"

Percy tried to skirt around him, but Antaeus anticipated the move. He blocked Percy's path, chuckling. He was just toying with him now. He had Percy cornered.

Percy looked up at the chains hanging from the ceiling. His eyes lit up with an idea.

He feinted to the other side. Antaeus blocked him. The crowd jeered and screamed at Antaeus to finish Percy off, but he was having too much fun.

"Puny boy," he said. "Not a worthy son of the sea god!"

Percy charged straight ahead, crouching low. Rather than roll between the giant's legs again, he jumped, using Antaeus's forearm as a foothold, scrambling up the giant's body like it was a ladder. The giant straightened, letting out a noise of outrage, and Percy pushed off his head, catching the top of a chain. He wrapped his legs around the chain like it was a climbing rope. He drew his sword and sawed off the chain next to him.

"Come down here, coward!" Antaeus bellowed. He tried to grab Percy, but he was just out of reach.

"Come up and get me!" Percy yelled. "Or are you too slow and fat?"

The giant howled and made another grab. He caught a chain and tried to pull himself up. As he struggled, Percy managed to snag Antaeus's loincloth with the sawn-off chain.

"WAAA!" Antaeus yelled. Percy hoisted the giant off of the ground, away from the earth that healed him.

Within a couple of minutes, the giant was tangled up, suspended above the ground, hopelessly snarled in chains and hooks.

Percy dropped to the floor, panting and sweaty.

"Get me down!" Antaeus demanded.

"Free him!" Luke ordered. "He is our host!"

Percy uncapped his sword. "I'll free him."

And he stabbed the giant in the gut.

Antaeus bellowed, and sand poured out, but he was too far up for the earth to reach him. Antaeus just dissolved, pouring out bit by bit.

"Jackson!" Luke yelled. "I should have killed you long ago!"

"You tried," Percy reminded him. "Let us go, Luke. We had a sworn agreement with Antaeus. I'm the winner."

Unsurprisingly, Luke sneered, "Antaeus is dead. His oath died with him. But since I'm feeling merciful today, I'll have you killed quickly."

He pointed at Annabeth. "Spare the girl." His voice quavered just a little. "I would speak to her before—before our great triumph. And secure the daughter of Persephone."

Every monster in the audience drew a weapon or extended its claws. They were trapped. Hopelessly outnumbered.

Percy took something out of his pocket and blew into it. There was no sound, but it shattered into shards of ice, melting in his hand.

Luke laughed. "What was that supposed to do?"

From behind them came a surprised yelp. The Laistrygonian giant who'd been guarding Annabeth flew past them and smashed into the wall.

"AROOOOF!"

Kelli the empousa screamed as a five-hundred-pound black mastiff picked her up like a chew toy and tossed her through the air, straight into Luke's lap. Mrs. O'Leary snarled, and the two dracaenae guards backed away. For a moment the monsters in the audience were caught completely by surprise.

"Let's go!" Percy yelled. "Heel, Mrs. O'Leary!"

"The far exit!" Rachel cried. "That's the right way!"

Naomi grabbed Ethan's arm. "Come on!"

Together, the four half-bloods and single mortal raced across the arena and out the far exit, Mrs. O'Leary right behind them.

"This way!" Rachel yelled.

"Why should we follow you?" Annabeth demanded. "You led us straight into that death trap!"

"It was the way you needed to go," Rachel said. "And so is this. Come on!"

Annabeth didn't look happy about it, but she followed. Rachel seemed to know exactly where she was going. She whipped around corners and didn't even hesitate at crossroads. Once she said, "Duck!" and they all crouched as a huge ax swung over their heads. Then they kept going as if nothing had happened.

Naomi couldn't keep track of how many turns they made. They didn't stop to rest until they came to a room the size of a gymnasium with old marble columns holding up the roof.

Ethan collapsed on the floor. "You people are crazy." He pulled off his helmet, his face gleamed with sweat.

Before Naomi could even catch her breath, Percy had his sword pointed at Ethan's throat. "I should kill you."

"Do it, then," Ethan sneered.

"Whoa!" Naomi grabbed Percy's arm, forcefully getting his sword out of Ethan's face. "I didn't spare his life for you to kill him, Percy!"

"He tried to kill you," Percy reminded her, his voice uncharacteristically harsh. "And he tried to kidnap you before that. Did you forget that?"

Naomi glared at him. "Of course I didn't forget that," she said quietly. "That doesn't mean he deserves to die."

Percy lowered his sword, but he made no move to sheath it.

"Why were you trying to join up with the wrong side?" Annabeth demanded, glaring at Ethan.

The son of Nemesis sneered. "There's no right side. The gods never cared about us. Why shouldn't I—"

"Betray your friends and sign up with an army that makes you fight to the death for entertainment?" Annabeth said. "Gee, I wonder."

Ethan struggled to his feet. "I'm not going to argue with you. Thanks for the help, but I'm out of here."

"We're going after Daedalus," Naomi said. "Come with us, Ethan."

"You really are crazy if you think Daedalus will help you."

Annabeth bristled. "He has to," she said. "We'll make him listen."

Ethan snorted. "Yeah, well. Good luck with that."

Naomi grabbed his arm. "We're giving you a second chance to do the right thing, Ethan. Don't throw it away."

Ethan looked nothing like her old friend as he narrowed his eye at her. "You shouldn't have spared me, Naomi," he said harshly. "Mercy has no place in this war."

Then he ran off into the darkness—back the way they'd come.

Chapter 84: xix. never meet your heroes (the sequel)

Chapter Text

THEY MADE CAMP RIGHT THERE IN THE BIG ROOM. Percy found scrap wood and they started a fire. Naomi traced the shallow cut on her side, closed now thanks to a bit of ambrosia. It wouldn't leave a scar—not a physical one, at least.

Shadows danced off the columns, rising around them like trees. Naomi found no comfort in them like she should have—not when her heart was still aching, her mind still reeling with the image of Ethan's back turned toward her once again.

Mercy has no place in this war.

Then where did mercy belong? There was no need for it in peace. If mercy and war were enemies, how did anyone come out a victor? How did war not tear both sides apart?

"Something was wrong with Luke," Annabeth muttered, poking at the fire with her knife. "Did you notice the way he was acting?"

"He looked pretty pleased to me," Percy said. "Like he'd spent a nice day torturing heroes."

"That's not true!" she argued. "There was something wrong with him. He looked... nervous. He told his monsters to spare me. He wanted to tell me something."

"Probably, 'Hi, Annabeth! Sit here with me and watch while I tear your friends apart. It'll be fun!'"

"You're impossible," Annabeth grumbled. She sheathed her dagger and looked at Rachel. "So which way now?"

Rachel didn't respond right away. She'd become quieter since the arena. Now, whenever Annabeth made a sarcastic comment, Rachel hardly bothered to answer. She'd burned the tip of a stick in the fire and was using it to draw ash figures on the floor, images of the monsters they'd seen. With a few strokes she captured the likeness of a dracaena perfectly.

"We'll follow the path," she said. "The brightness on the floor."

"The brightness that led us straight into a trap?" Annabeth asked.

"Lay off her, Annabeth," Percy said. "She's doing the best she can."

Annabeth stood. "The fire's getting low. Naomi and I'll go look for some more scraps while you guys talk."

Naomi didn't argue. She stood silently, following Annabeth into the shadows.

After a few minutes of silently collecting wood scraps, Annabeth asked, "Are you okay?"

It took Naomi a moment to answer. She busied herself with collecting more wood scraps as she gathered her thoughts.

Finally, she said, "I always imagined what I'd say to him the next time I saw him. I didn't think it would go like that."

"He almost killed you, Naomi," Annabeth told her. "I know he was your friend, but he's not anymore."

"Neither is Luke," Naomi said, her voice too soft to be the weapon it could have been.

Annabeth's jaw ticked. "That's different. He's being manipulated by Kronos."

"And Ethan isn't being manipulated, too?" Naomi asked. "All the half-bloods who keep going to the Titans' side—Luke's the one pulling them in. So many of the demigods who've gone missing from camp lived in the Hermes cabin, with Luke as their mentor. They joined the army for him, Annabeth. Not Kronos."

"It isn't Luke's fault," Annabeth insisted.

"Just because he's a victim of Kronos doesn't mean he doesn't have his own victims," Naomi said. She grabbed another scrap of wood. "Come on. I think this is enough wood."

When they returned, Rachel was asleep.

"I'll take first watch," Annabeth said, her voice tight. "You two should sleep, too."

"You don't have to act like that," Percy said.

"Like what?" Annabeth asked.

"Like... never mind." Percy laid down, and seemed to be out in seconds.

Naomi curled up, laying her head on her backpack. She watched the shadows dance on the marble, and pretended her father was there, keeping watch, too.

She fell asleep in minutes.

Naomi woke to an earthquake.

Within seconds, everyone was up and running. They were almost to the far tunnel when a column next to them groaned and buckled. Naomi fashioned a dome of shadows over them as they ran, keeping the broken shards of marble from crashing on top of them.

They made it to the corridor. Naomi let down her shadow dome in time for them to watch the other columns topple. A cloud of white dust billowed over them, and they kept running.

"You know what?" Annabeth panted. "I like this way after all."

It wasn't long before they saw light up ahead.

"There," Rachel said.

They followed her into a stainless-steel hallway. Fluorescent lights glowed from the ceiling. The floor was a metal grate.

Naomi had gotten so used to the darkness that she had to squint. Her companions looked pale in the harsh illumination.

"This way," Rachel said, beginning to run. "We're close!"

"This is so wrong!" Annabeth said. "The workshop should be in the oldest section of the maze. This can't—"

She faltered, because they'd arrived at a set of metal double doors. Inscribed in the steel, at eye level, was a large blue Greek Δ.

"We're here," Rachel announced. "Daedalus's workshop."

Annabeth pressed the symbol on the doors and they hissed open.

"So much for ancient architecture," Percy said.

Annabeth scowled. Together, they walked inside.

The first thing that struck Naomi was the daylight—blazing sunlight coming through giant windows. The workshop was like an artist's studio, with thirty-foot ceilings and industrial lighting, polished stone floors and workbenches. A spiral staircase led up to a second-story loft. Half a dozen easels displayed hand-drawn diagrams for buildings and machines that looked like Leonardo da Vinci sketches. Several laptop computers were scattered around on the tables. Glass jars of green oil—Greek fire—lined one shelf. There were inventions, too—weird metal machines Naomi couldn't understand. One was a bronze chair with a bunch of electrical wires attached to it, like some kind of torture device. In another corner stood a giant metal egg about the size of a man. There was a grandfather clock that appeared to be made entirely of glass, so you could see all the gears turning. And hanging on the wall were several sets of bronze and silver wings.

"Di immortals," Annabeth muttered. She ran to the nearest easel and looked at the sketch. "He's a genius. Look at the curves on this building!"

"And an artist," Rachel said in amazement. "These wings are amazing!"

Naomi walked to the window, Percy close behind. The view outside was amazing. There was a huge set of mountains in the distance (the Rocky Mountains, maybe? Naomi wasn't great at geography). They were high up in the foothills, at least five hundred feet, and, down below, a valley spread out, filled with a tumbled collection of red mesas and boulders and spires of stone.

"Where are we?" Percy asked.

"Colorado Springs," said a voice behind them. "The Garden of the Gods."

Standing on the spiral staircase above them, his weapon drawn, was their missing sword master—Quintus.

"You," Annabeth said. "What have you done with Daedalus?"

Quintus smiled faintly. "Trust me, my dear. You don't want to meet him."

"Look, Mr. Traitor," she growled, "I didn't fight a dragon woman and a three-bodied man and a psychotic Sphinx to see you. Now where is DAEDALUS?"

Quintus came down the stairs, holding his sword at his side. He was dressed in jeans and boots and his counselor's T-shirt from Camp Half-Blood, which seemed like an insult now that he'd been revealed to be a traitor.

"You think I'm an agent of Kronos," he said. "That I work for Luke."

"Well, duh," Annabeth said.

"You're an intelligent girl," he said. "But you're wrong. I work only for myself."

"Luke mentioned you," Percy said. "Geryon knew about you, too. You've been to his ranch."

"Of course," Quintus said. "I've been almost everywhere. Even here."

He walked past Percy and Naomi like they were no threats at all and stood by the window. "The view changes from day to day," he mused. "It's always some place high up. Yesterday it was from a skyscraper overlooking Manhattan. The day before that, there was a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. But it keeps coming back to the Garden of the Gods. I think the Labyrinth likes it here. A fitting name, I suppose."

"You've been here before," Naomi said.

"Oh, yes."

"That's an illusion out there?" Percy asked. "A projection or something?"

"No," Rachel murmured. "It's real. We're really in Colorado."

Quintus regarded her. "You have clear vision, don't you? You remind me of another mortal girl I once knew. Another princess who came to grief."

"Enough games," Percy said. "What have you done with Daedalus?"

Quintus stared at him. "My boy, you need lessons from your friend on seeing clearly. I am Daedalus."

"But—you're not an inventor!" Percy stammered. "You're a swordsman!"

"I am both," Quintus said. "And an architect. And a scholar. I also play basketball pretty well for a guy who didn't start until he was two thousand years old. A real artist must be good at many things."

"That's true," Rachel said. "Like I can paint with my feet as well as my hands."

Naomi blinked. "What?"

"You see?" Quintus said. "A girl of many talents."

"But you don't even look like Daedalus," Percy protested. "I saw him in a dream, and..." He faltered.

"Yes," Quintus said. "You've finally guessed the truth."

"You're an automaton. You made yourself a new body."

Naomi shook her head. "That's not possible. That—that can't be an automaton."

Quintus chuckled. "Do you know what Quintus means, my dear?"

"The fifth, in Latin. But—"

"This is my fifth body." The swordsman held out his forearm. He pressed his elbow and part of his wrist popped open—a rectangular hatch in his skin. Underneath, bronze gears whirred. Wires glowed.

"That's amazing!" Rachel said.

"That's weird," Percy corrected.

"You found a way to transfer your animus into a machine?" Annabeth said. "That's... not natural."

"Oh, I assure you, my dear, it's still me. I'm still very much Daedalus. Our mother, Athena, makes sure I never forget that." He tugged back the collar of his shirt. At the base of his neck was a mark—the dark shape of a bird grafted to his skin.

"A murderer's brand," Annabeth said.

"For your nephew, Perdix," Percy guessed. "The boy you pushed off the tower."

Quintus's face darkened. "I did not push him. I simply—"

"Made him lose his balance," Percy said. "Let him die."

Quintus gazed out the windows at the purple mountains. "I regret what I did, Percy. I was angry and bitter. But I cannot take it back, and Athena never lets me forget. As Perdix died, she turned him into a small bird—a partridge. She branded the bird's shape on my neck as a reminder. No matter what body I take, the brand appears on my skin."

Percy stared at him for a moment. "You really are Daedalus," he decided. "But why did you come to the camp? Why spy on us?"

"To see if your camp was worth saving. Luke had given me one story. I preferred to come to my own conclusions."

"So you have talked to Luke."

"Oh, yes. Several times. He is quite persuasive."

"But now you've seen the camp!" Annabeth persisted. "So you know we need your help. You can't let Luke through the maze!"

Daedalus set his sword on the workbench. "The maze is no longer mine to control, Annabeth. I created it, yes. In fact, it is tied to my life force. But I have allowed it to live and grow on its own. That is the price I paid for privacy."

"Privacy from what?"

"The gods," he said. "And death. I have been alive for two millennia, my dear, hiding from death."

"But how can you hide from Death?" Naomi asked.

"Death does not know everything," he said. "Nor does he see everything. You've met him, Naomi, and lived to tell the tale. A clever man can hide quite a long time, and I have buried myself very deep. Only my greatest enemy has kept after me, and even him I have thwarted."

"You mean Minos," Percy said.

Daedalus nodded. "He hunts for me relentlessly. Now that he is a judge of the dead, he would like nothing better than for me to come before him so he can punish me for my crimes. After the daughters of Cocalus killed him, Minos's ghost began torturing me in my dreams. He promised that he would hunt me down. I did the only thing I could. I retreated from the world completely. I descended into my Labyrinth. I decided this would be my ultimate accomplishment: I would cheat death."

"And you did," Annabeth marveled, "for two thousand years." She sounded impressed, despite the horrible things Daedalus had done.

Just then a loud bark echoed from the corridor. Naomi heard the ba-BUMP, baBUMP, ba-BUMP of huge paws, and Mrs. O'Leary bounded into the workshop. She licked Percy's face once, then almost knocked Daedalus over with an enthusiastic leap.

"There is my old friend!" Daedalus said, scratching Mrs. O'Leary behind the ears. "My only companion all these long lonely years."

"You let her save me," Percy said. "That whistle actually worked."

Daedalus nodded. "Of course it did, Percy. You have a good heart. And I knew Mrs. O'Leary liked you. I wanted to help you. Perhaps I—I felt guilty, as well."

"Guilty about what?"

"That your quest would be in vain."

"What?" Annabeth said. "But you can still help us. You have to! Give us Ariadne's string so Luke can't get it."

"Yes... the string. I told Luke that the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are the best guide, but he did not trust me. He was so focused on the idea of a magic item. And the string works. It's not as accurate as your mortal friend here, perhaps. But good enough. Good enough."

"Where is it?" Annabeth said.

"With Luke," Daedalus said sadly. "I'm sorry, my dear. But you are several hours too late."

Naomi's blood ran cold. That's why Luke had been in such a good mood in the arena. He'd already gotten the string from Daedalus. His only obstacle had been the arena master.

"Kronos promised me freedom," Quintus said. "Once Hades is overthrown, he will set me over the Underworld. I will reclaim my son Icarus. I will make things right with poor young Perdix. I will see Minos's soul cast into Tartarus, where it cannot bother me again. And I will no longer have to run from death."

"That's your brilliant idea?" Annabeth yelled. "You're going to let Luke destroy your camp, kill hundreds of demigods, and then attack Olympus? You're going to bring down the entire world so you can get what you want?"

"Your cause is doomed, my dear. I saw that as soon as I began to work at your camp. There is no way you can hold back the might of Kronos."

"That's not true!" she cried.

"I am doing what I must, my dear. The offer was too sweet to refuse. I'm sorry."

Annabeth pushed over an easel. Architectural drawings scattered across the floor. "I used to respect you. You were my hero! You—you built amazing things. You solved problems. Now... I don't know what you are. Children of Athena are supposed to be wise, not just clever. Maybe you are just a machine. You should have died two thousand years ago."

Instead of getting mad, Daedalus hung his head. "You should go warn your camp. Now that Luke has the string—"

Suddenly Mrs. O'Leary pricked up her ears.

"Someone's coming!" Rachel warned.

The doors of the workshop burst open, and Nico was pushed inside, his hands in chains. Then the cheerleader demon and two Laistrygonians marched in behind him, followed by the ghost of Minos. He looked almost solid now—a pale bearded king with cold eyes and tendrils of Mist coiling off his robes.

He fixed his gaze on Daedalus. "There you are, my old friend."

Daedalus's jaw clenched. He looked at the cheerleader. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Luke sends his compliments," she said. "He thought you might like to see your old employer Minos."

"This was not part of our agreement," Daedalus said.

"No indeed," she said. "But we already have what we want from you, and we have other agreements to honor. Minos required something else from us, in order to turn over this fine young demigod." She ran a finger under Nico's chin. "He'll be quite useful. And all Minos asked in return was your head, old man."

Daedalus paled. "Treachery."

"Get used to it," the cheerleader demon said.

"Nico," Naomi said. "Are you okay?"

He nodded morosely. "I—I'm sorry, Naomi. Minos told me you were in danger. He convinced me to go back into the maze."

"You were trying to help us?"

"I was tricked," he said. "He tricked all of us."

"Where's Luke?" Percy demanded. "Why isn't he here?"

The she-demon smiled like they were sharing an inside joke. "Luke is... busy. He is preparing for the assault. But don't worry. We have more friends on the way. And in the meantime, I think I'll have a wonderful snack!" Her hands changed into claws. Her hair burst into flame and her legs turned to their true form—one donkey leg, one bronze.

"Percy," Rachel whispered, "the wings. Do you think—"

"Get them," Percy said. "I'll try to buy you some time."

And with that, all Hades broke loose. Percy and Annabeth charged the she-demon; the giants charged Daedalus. Naomi grabbed Nico, dragging him away from the fight as the spirit of Minos wailed, "Kill the inventor! Kill him!"

"Hold still," Naomi ordered Nico, summoning Asphodel. The Stygian iron cut through his shackles like they were made of butter.

Naomi looked back at the fight. Rachel was grabbing the wings off the wall, but nobody seemed to notice. The cheerleader demon was quick, never letting Percy or Annabeth get close enough to strike. Mrs. O'Leary chomped her fangs into a giant's arm, who wailed in pain and flung her around, trying to shake her off. Daedalus grabbed for his sword, but the second giant smashed the workbench with his fist, and the sword went flying. A clay jar of Greek fire broke on the floor and began to burn, green flames spreading quickly.

"To me!" Minos cried. "Spirits of the dead!" He raised his ghostly hands and the air began to hum.

"No!" Nico cried, stumbling forward. Naomi caught his arm, steadying him.

"You do not control me, young fool," Minos sneered. "All this time, I have been controlling you! A soul for a soul, yes. But it is not your sister who will return from the dead. It is I, as soon as I slay the inventor!"

Spirits began to appear around Minos—shimmering forms that slowly multiplied, solidifying into Cretan soldiers.

"I am the son of Hades," Nico insisted. "Be gone!"

Minos laughed. "You have no power over me. I am the lord of spirits! The ghost king!"

"No." Nico drew his sword. "I am."

He stabbed his black blade into the floor, and it cleaved through the stone.

"Never!" Minos's form rippled. "I will not—"

The ground rumbled. The windows cracked and shattered to pieces, letting in a blast of fresh air. A fissure opened in the stone floor of the workshop, and Minos and all his spirits were sucked into the void with a horrible wail.

As soon as the spirits were gone, Nico all but collapsed, and Naomi barely managed to catch him before he could fall. His face was pale and sweaty with excursion.

"You did it, Nico," Naomi said breathlessly. "You beat him."

"I'm... the ghost king," he mumbled tiredly.

Rachel ran over with two pairs of wings, having already fitted herself with a pair. She quickly helped Naomi and Nico put on the wings, which grafted instantly to their backs and arms.

"Now you!" Rachel shouted at Percy.

In seconds, everyone was fitted with coppery wings, ready to fly.

"Daedalus!" Percy yelled. "Come on!"

The inventor was cut in a hundred places, but he bled golden oil instead of blood. He'd found his sword and was using part of a smashed table as a shield against the giants. "I won't leave Mrs. O'Leary!" he said. "Go!"

There was no time to argue.

"None of us know how to fly!" Nico protested.

"Great time to find out," Percy said. And together the five of them jumped out of the window and into open sky.

Chapter 85: xx. flying high (until the titan wakes up, at least)

Chapter Text

JUMPING OUT OF A WINDOW five hundred feet aboveground was about as fun as it sounded.

Naomi plummeted toward the valley and the red rocks below. Somewhere above, Annabeth yelled, "Spread your arms! Keep them extended."

Naomi did as told. As soon as she spread them out, the wings stiffened, caught the wind, and her descent slowed. She soared downward, but at a controlled angle, like a kite in a dive.

"Yeah!" Percy yelled with delight.

"Land!" Annabeth yelled. "These wings won't last forever."

"How long?" Rachel asked.

"I don't want to find out!" Annabeth said

They swooped down toward the Garden of the Gods. Percy scared a couple of climbers (wasn't everyday you saw a flying teenager while you were just trying to get some rock-climbing in). Then Naomi and her companions soared across the valley, over a road, and landed on the terrace of the visitor center. It was late afternoon and the place looked fairly empty, but they ripped off their wings as quickly as they could. Looking at them, Naomi could see that Annabeth was right—the seals that bound the wings to their backs were already melting, and they were shedding bronze feathers.

It seemed a shame, but there was no way to fix them, and they couldn't just leave the wings around for mortals to find, so they stuffed the wings in the bin outside the cafeteria.

In the distance, Daedalus's workshop had disappeared. No more smoke. No broken windows. Just the bare side of a hill.

"The workshop moved," Annabeth guessed. "There's no telling where."

"So what do we do now?" Percy asked. "How do we get back in the maze?"

Annabeth gazed at the summit of Pikes Peak in the distance. "Maybe we can't. If Daedalus died... he said his life force was tied into the Labyrinth. The whole thing might've been destroyed. Maybe that will stop Luke's invasion."

"He isn't dead," Naomi and Nico said in unison.

Nico scowled at her, but there wasn't any heat behind it.

"What about Tyson and Grover?" Percy asked. "Do you know if they're...?"

Nico and Naomi looked at each other.

"That's harder," Nico said. "They're not humans or half-bloods. They don't have mortal souls."

"We have to get into town," Annabeth decided. "Our chances will be better of finding an entrance to the Labyrinth. We have to make it back to camp before Luke and his army."

"We could just take a plane," Rachel said.

Percy shuddered. "I don't fly."

"But you just did."

"That was low flying," he said, "and even that's risky. Flying up really high—that's Zeus's territory. I can't do it. Besides, we don't even have time for a flight. The labyrinth is the quickest way back."

"So we need a car to take us into the city," Annabeth said.

Rachel looked down into the parking lot. She grimaced, as if she were about to do something she regretted. "I'll take care of it."

"How?" Annabeth asked.

"Just trust me."

Annabeth looked uneasy, but she nodded. "Okay, I'm going to buy a prism in the gift shop, try to make a rainbow, and send an Iris-message to camp."

"I'll go with you," Nico said. "I'm hungry."

Naomi sighed. "Me too. Think they have Pop-Tarts?"

Nico frowned. "What are Pop-Tarts?"

Naomi stared at him. "Oh, gods, seriously? Come on."

After about ten minutes, Annabeth, Nico, and Naomi left the gift-shop, the latter two still finishing their Pop-Tarts.

Nico turned out to be an unfrosted strawberry fan. Naomi tried not to hold it against him.

"I talked to Chiron," Annabeth said as they reached Percy and Rachel. "They're doing their best to prepare for battle, but he still wants us back. They're going to need every hero they can get. Did we find a ride?"

"The driver's ready when we are," Rachel said. "Come on."

She led the four half-bloods to the car and got in. A minute later they were cruising down the road. The seats were leather. There was plenty of legroom. The backseat had flat-panel TVs built into the headrests and a mini-fridge stocked with bottled water, sodas, and snacks.

"Where to, Miss Dare?" the driver asked.

"I'm not sure yet, Robert," she said. "We just need to drive through town and, uh, look around."

"Whatever you say, miss."

Percy looked at Rachel. "Do you know this guy?"

"No."

"But he dropped everything to help you. Why?"

"Just keep your eyes peeled," she said. "Help me look."

They drove through Colorado Springs for about half an hour and saw nothing that Rachel considered a possible Labyrinth entrance.

After about an hour, they decided to head north toward Denver, thinking that maybe a bigger city would be more likely to have a Labyrinth entrance, but they were all getting nervous. They were losing time.

Then, right as they were leaving Colorado Springs, Rachel sat bolt upright. "Get off the highway!"

The driver glanced back. "Miss?"

"I saw something, I think. Get off here."

The driver swerved across traffic and took the exit.

"What did you see?" Percy asked.

Rachel had the driver turn down an unpromising dirt road. They drove by a sign too fast for Naomi to read, but Rachel said, "Western Museum of Mining & Industry."

For a museum, it didn't look like much—a little house like an old-fashioned railroad station, some drills and pumps and old steam shovels on display outside.

"There." Rachel pointed to a hole in the side of a nearby hill—a tunnel that was boarded up and chained. "An old mine entrance."

"A door to the Labyrinth?" Annabeth asked. "How can you be sure?"

"Well, look at it!" Rachel said. "I mean... I can see it, okay?"

She thanked the driver and they all got out. He didn't ask for money or anything, which was strange. "Are you sure you'll be alright, Miss Dare? I'd be happy to call your—"

"No!" Rachel said. "No, really. Thanks, Robert. But we're fine."

The museum seemed to be closed, so nobody bothered them as they climbed the hill to the mine shaft. When they got to the entrance, Naomi saw the mark of Daedalus engraved on the padlock. Percy touched the padlock and the chains fell away. They kicked down a few boards and walked inside.

For better or worse, they were back in the Labyrinth.

The dirt tunnels turned to stone. They wound around and split off and basically tried to confuse them, but Rachel had no trouble guiding them. They told her they needed to get back to New York, and she hardly even paused when the tunnels offered a choice.

Naomi was surprised to see Rachel and Annabeth strike up a conversation as they walked. Annabeth asked her more about her background, but Rachel was evasive, so they started talking about architecture. It turned out that Rachel knew something about it from studying art. They talked about different facades on buildings around New York—a topic Naomi knew very little about—so she and Percy hung back and walked with Nico in uncomfortable silence.

"Thanks for coming after us," Naomi finally said.

Nico's eyes narrowed. He didn't seem as angry as he used to—just suspicious, careful. "I owed you for the ranch. Plus... I wanted to see Daedalus for myself. Minos was right, in a way. Daedalus should die. Nobody should be able to avoid death that long. It's not natural."

"That's what you were after all along," Percy said. "Trading Daedalus's soul for your sister's."

Nico walked for another fifty yards before answering. "It hasn't been easy, you know. Having only the dead for company. Knowing that I'll never be accepted by the living. Only the dead respect me, and they only do that out of fear."

"You could be accepted, Nico," Naomi said softly. "You could have friends at camp. I do."

He didn't even look at her. "That's different and you know it. Your mom's not just the queen of the dead, she's the goddess of springtime. People like her. I could never fit in there... not like you."

Naomi didn't know what to say. He had a point, unfortunately. No one had ever looked at Naomi with contempt or fear due to her parentage. Sure, it was strange, being the only child of Persephone, but hardly anyone treated her badly because of it.

But she didn't want to watch Nico run away from camp, not without even giving it a chance. He was family, even if he was reluctant to agree. She wanted him to be safe and happy, not wandering aimlessly.

Rachel stopped in front of them. They'd come to a crossroads. The tunnel continued straight ahead, but a side tunnel T'd off to the right—a circular shaft carved from volcanic rock.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

Rachel stared down the dark tunnel. In the dim flashlight beam, her face looked like that of a ghost.

"Is it that way?" Annabeth asked.

"No," Rachel said nervously. "Not at all."

"Why are we stopping then?" Naomi asked.

"Listen," Nico said.

Naomi heard wind coming down the tunnel, as if the exit were close. And she smelled something vaguely familiar—something that brought back bad memories.

Percy met Naomi's eyes. "Eucalyptus trees," he said. "Like in California."

Last winter, when they'd faced Luke and the Titan Atlas on top of Mount Tamalpais, the air had smelled just like that. But there was another smell, too, like something rotting.

"There's something evil down that tunnel," Rachel said. "Something very powerful."

"And the smell of death," Nico added.

Naomi grimaced. "That's what that smell is?"

"Luke's entrance," Annabeth guessed. "The one to Mount Othrys—the Titans' palace."

"I have to check it out," Percy said.

"Percy, no."

"Luke could be right here," he said. "Or... or Kronos. I have to find out what's going on."

Annabeth hesitated. "Then we'll all go."

"No," he said. "It's too dangerous. If they got hold of Naomi and Nico, or Rachel for that matter, Kronos could use them. You stay here and guard them."

"Percy, don't," Rachel said. "Don't go up there alone."

"I'll be quick," he promised. "I won't do anything stupid."

Annabeth took her Yankees cap out of her pocket. "At least take this. And be careful."

Percy took it. "Thanks."

"You're not going alone," Naomi decided.

Percy looked at her. "Naomi—"

"I'm going," she insisted.

"You'll be seen," he argued.

"No, I won't." Naomi was only half-sure it would work, but she summoned a veil of darkness, trying to emulate Hades's Helm of Darkness. Shadows—which were in steady supply down here—settled around her.

"Can you see me?" Naomi asked.

Percy scowled, looking to the left of her. "Well, no, but—"

"Then I'm coming."

He huffed in frustration, but there was no talking her out of it, and he knew that. "Fine."

Before they even reached the exit, Naomi heard growling, barking voices.

"At least we salvaged the blade," one said. "The master will still reward us."

"Yes! Yes!" a second shrieked. "Rewards beyond measure!"

Another voice, this one familiar, said, "Um, yeah, well that's great. Now, if you're done with me—"

"No, half-blood!" a telekhine said. "You must help us make the presentation. It is a great honor!"

"Gee, thanks," Ethan said.

Naomi's jaw clenched. She crept toward the end of the tunnel, trying to will the tears out of her eyes.

A blast of cold air hit her as she emerged. She was standing near the top of Mount Tam. The Pacific Ocean spread out below, gray under a cloudy sky. About twenty feet downhill, two freaky dog-demon things were placing something on a rock—something long and thin and wrapped in black cloth. Ethan was helping them open it.

"Careful, fool," one of the dog-demons scolded. "One touch, and the blade will sever your soul from your body."

Ethan swallowed nervously. "Maybe I'll let you unwrap it, then."

Naomi glanced up at the mountain's peak, where a black marble fortress loomed. It reminded her of an oversized mausoleum, with walls fifty-feet high. She had no idea how mortals could miss the fact that it was there. But, then again, everything below the summit looked fuzzed to her, as if there were a thick veil between her and the lower half of the mountain. There was magic going on here—really powerful Mist. Above her, the sky swirled into a huge funnel cloud. Naomi couldn't see Atlas, but she could hear him groaning in the distance, still laboring under the weight of the sky.

Good, she thought.

"There!" the dog-demon said. Reverently, he lifted whatever it was they were unwrapping, and Naomi's blood turned to ice.

It was a scythe—a six-foot long blade curved like a crescent moon, with a wooden handle wrapped in leather. The blade glinted two different colors—steel and bronze. It was the weapon of Kronos, the one he'd used to slice up his father, Ouranos, before the gods had taken it away from him and cut Kronos to pieces, casting him into Tartarus.

Now, the weapon was forged once again.

"We must sanctify it in blood," the dog-demon said. "Then you, half-blood, shall help present it when the lord awakes."

Naomi ran toward the fortress, her pulse like a drumbeat in her ears. The last thing she wanted was to get anywhere near that awful black mausoleum, but she knew she had to. If there was any way to stop Kronos from rising, she had to try.

She knew without having to see that Percy was running, too.

She dashed through a dark foyer and into the main hall. The floor shone like a mahogany piano—pure black and yet full of light. Black marble statues lined the walls. She didn't recognize the faces, but she knew she was looking at the images of the Titans who'd ruled before the gods. At the end of the room, between two bronze braziers, was a dais. And on the dais, the golden sarcophagus.

The room was silent except for the crackle of flames. Luke wasn't here. No guards. Nothing.

It was too easy, but Naomi approached the dais.

The sarcophagus was just like she remembered it—about ten feet long, much too big for a human. It was carved with elaborate scenes of death and destruction, pictures of the gods being trampled under chariots, temples and famous world landmarks being smashed and burned. The whole coffin emanated a coldness, like it was frozen. Naomi's breath was visible.

Naomi heard the tell-tale noise of a sword being drawn—Percy.

Naomi stepped closer to the coffin. The lid was decorated more intricately than the sides—with scenes of carnage and power. In the middle was an inscription carved in letters even older than Greek, a language of magic. Naomi couldn't read it, not really, but she knew what it said: KRONOS, LORD OF TIME.

There were noises behind them—voices approaching. An invisible force pushed the golden lid and it fell to the floor with a huge WHOOOOM!

Naomi had to stifle a gasp at what she saw. Mortal legs, mortal hands. A piece of his chest was missing—a clean black hole about the size of a bullet wound, right where his heart should've been. His eyes were closed, but Naomi knew they would be blue like the sky. His skin was pale. Blond hair... and a scar running along the left side of his face.

The body in the coffin was Luke's.

Then the voices of the dog-demons were right behind her.

"What has happened?" one of them screamed when he saw the lid. Naomi staggered away from the dais, the shadows clinging to her, hiding her from sight even as shock made her forget they were even there. She stood with her back to the nearest wall, her heart thundering in her chest.

"Careful!" the other demon warned. "Perhaps he stirs. We must present the gifts now. Immediately!"

The two demons shuffled forward and knelt, holding up the scythe on its wrapping cloth. "My lord," one said. "Your symbol of power is remade."

Silence. Nothing happened in the coffin.

"You fool," the other demon muttered. "He requires the half-blood first."

Ethan stepped back. "Whoa, what do you mean, he requires me?"

"Don't be a coward!" the first demon hissed. "He does not require your death. Only your allegiance. Pledge him your service. Renounce the gods. That is all."

"No!" Naomi didn't care if it was suicide—she charged into the room and let the shadows fall away. "Ethan, don't!"

Percy appeared in a second, his sword drawn.

"Trespassers!" The demons bared their teeth. "The master will deal with you soon enough. Hurry, boy!"

"Ethan," Naomi pleaded, "don't listen to them. Help us destroy it."

Ethan turned toward her, his eye patch blending in with the shadows on his face. His expression was something like pity. "I told you not to spare me, Naomi. I'm the child of Nemesis, the goddess of balance. And this is what I was made to do."

He turned toward the dais. "I renounce the gods! What have they ever done for me? I will see them destroyed. I will serve Kronos."

The building rumbled. A wisp of blue light rose from the floor at Ethan's feet. It drifted toward the coffin and began to shimmer, like a cloud of pure energy. Then it descended into the sarcophagus.

Luke sat bolt upright. His eyes opened, and they were no longer blue. They were golden, the same color as the coffin. The hold in his chest was gone—he was complete. He leaped out of the coffin with ease, and where his feet touched the floor, the marble froze like craters of ice.

He looked at Ethan and the demons with those horrible golden eyes, as if he were a newborn baby, not sure what he was seeing. Then he looked at Percy and Naomi, and a smile of recognition crept across his mouth.

"This body has been well prepared." His voice was like a knife, sharp and deadly. It was Luke's, but not at the same time. Underneath his voice was another, more horrible sound—an ancient, cold sound like metal scraping against rock. "Don't you think so, Percy Jackson?"

Percy didn't answer. Naomi doubted he could.

Kronos threw his head and laughed. The scar on his face rippled.

"Luke feared you," the Titan's voice said. "His jealousy and hatred have been powerful tools. It has kept him obedient. For that I thank you."

Ethan collapsed in terror. He covered his face with his hands. The demons trembled, holding up the scythe.

Percy finally seemed to find his nerve. He lunged at the thing that used to be Luke, but Luke's skin deflected the blow like it was made of pure steel. He looked at Percy with amusement. Then he flicked his hand, and Percy flew across the room.

Naomi didn't even get a chance to look back. In an instant, Not Luke's hand was wrapped around her throat.

"You have evaded us, Naomi Sakura," he said, his voice taunting. "But there will be no running today. Your unbound darkness will be our greatest weapon—you will snuff the flames of Olympus, just as you were always destined to."

"What have you done to Luke?" she choked out.

Not Luke smiled, the sight that of nightmares. "He serves me with his whole being, as I require. And so, soon, shall you."

Naomi clawed at his unrelenting hand. There was no escaping his grip, not with her own strength. He was a Titan reborn, a being older than the gods. The strength in his pinky could crush her like an ant.

"Choose wisely, little one," Kronos murmured, his voice like the hum before a volcanic eruption.

She couldn't breathe. She knew he wouldn't kill her—it wouldn't make any sense, not after everything he'd done to get her, to forge her into whatever weapon he seemed to be convinced he could make her.

This will not be the last time Kronos and his army try to make you into their weapon, Artemis had warned.

"Pledge your allegiance to the new world order," Kronos told her. "It will make things far less painful for you."

Nor will it be the last time you prove that they can do no such thing.

The shadows swirled at Naomi's feet, but they didn't attack. They coiled around her, making her the eye of their storm. She hardly had to think—the shadows came to her defense without her having to ask.

One second, Kronos held her by the throat.

The next, she was several feet away, standing next to Percy.

Kronos turned, his expression a nightmare in and of itself.

"Run!" Naomi shouted.

Percy didn't need to be told twice.

But the world slowed to a crawl, their feet turning to lead. It was Kronos, bending time itself to his will. Naomi's shadows slowed, hardly moving even as Naomi all but begged them to come.

"Run, little heroes," the Titan snarled. "Run!"

Naomi glanced back and saw him approaching leisurely, swinging his scythe as if he were enjoying the feel of it in his hands again. No weapon in the world could stop him. No amount of celestial bronze.

He was ten feet away when Naomi heard, "PERCY!"

Rachel.

Something flew past Naomi and Percy, and a blue plastic hairbrush hit Kronos in the eye.

"Ow!" he yelled. For just a moment, it was only Luke's voice, full of surprise and pain. Time righted itself and Naomi and Percy ran straight into Rachel and Nico and Annabeth, who were standing in the entry hall, their eyes wide with dismay.

"Luke?" Annabeth called. "What—"

Naomi grabbed her and hauled her after her. She ran as fast as she'd ever run, straight out of the fortress. They were almost back to the Labyrinth entrance when she heard the loudest bellow in the world—the voice of Kronos, coming back into control. "AFTER THEM!"

"No!" Nico yelled. He clapped his hands together, and a jagged spire of rick the size of an eighteen-wheeler erupted from the ground right in front of the fortress. The tremor it caused was so powerful, the front columns of the building came crashing down. Naomi heard muffled screams from the demons inside. Dust billowed everywhere.

They plunged into the Labyrinth and kept running, the howl of the Titan lord shaking the entire world behind them.

Chapter 86: xxi. the great god pan

Chapter Text

THEY RAN UNTIL THEY WERE EXHAUSTED. Rachel steered them from traps, but they had no destination in mind—only away from that dark mountain and the roar of Kronos.

They stopped in a tunnel of wet white rock, like part of a natural cave. Naomi couldn't hear anything behind them, but she didn't feel any safer. Her throat still ached from Kronos's grip.

"I can't go any further," Rachel gasped, hugging her chest.

Annabeth had been crying the entire time they'd been running. Now she collapsed, and all Naomi could do was collapse next to her and let the girl sob into her neck, their earlier disagreement forgotten in the face of more tragedy.

Naomi wasn't sure how long they sat there before Annabeth's sobs died off.

When she lifted her head, her eyes were red. "What... what was wrong with Luke? What did they do to him?"

Percy told her what he'd seen in the coffin, the way the last piece of Kronos's spirit had entered Luke's body when Ethan pledged his service.

"No," Annabeth said. "That can't be true. He couldn't—"

"He gave himself over to Kronos," Percy said. "I'm sorry, Annabeth. But Luke is gone."

"No!" she insisted. "You saw when Rachel hit him."

Percy nodded, looking at Rachel with respect. "You hit the Lord of the Titans in the eye with a blue plastic hairbrush."

Rachel looked embarrassed. "It was the only thing I had."

"But you saw," Annabeth insisted. "When it hit him, just for a second, he was dazed. He came back to his senses."

"So maybe Kronos wasn't completely settled in the body, or whatever," Percy said. "It doesn't mean Luke was in control."

"You want him to be evil, is that it?" Annabeth yelled. "You didn't know him before, Percy. I did!"

"What is it with you?" he snapped. "He almost strangled Naomi! Why do you keep defending him?"

"Whoa, you two," Rachel said. "Knock it off!"

Annabeth turned on her. "Stay out of it, mortal girl! If it wasn't for you..."

Whatever she was going to say, her voice broke. She put her head down and sobbed miserably.

Naomi struggled to her feet. She couldn't get the image of Ethan's face out of head, the conviction in his eye.

She'd been so sure she could bring him back, and even now, an irrational voice in her mind told her maybe next time. This was the third time she'd lost him—how many betrayals would it take for her to accept that he didn't want to be saved?

Her throat ached, and she couldn't tell if it was from sorrow or the memory of Kronos's grip.

"We have to keep moving," Nico said. "He'll send monsters after us."

Nobody was in any shape to run, but Nico was right. They couldn't stay still down here.

As Percy tried to help Rachel and Annabeth up, Nico looked at Naomi. "Are you... okay?"

Naomi wiped her cheeks—she hadn't even realized she was crying, too.

"I'm fine," she muttered.

Nico frowned like he didn't believe her.

"Just leave it," she said, her voice cracking—she blamed the trauma to her windpipe. "Please."

To her relief, he did.

The group started struggling through the Labyrinth once more.

"Back to New York," Percy said. "Rachel, can you—"

He froze. Naomi realized why a moment later. A few feet in front of them, Percy's flashlight beam fixed on a clump of red fabric laying on the ground—Grover's Rasta cap.

Percy's hands shook as he picked it up. It looked like it had been stepped on by a huge muddy boot.

There was something else—two sets of footprints. One set big like Tyson's, the other smaller like Grover's. They led off to the left.

"We have to follow them," Percy said. "They went that way. It must have been recently."

"What about Camp Half-Blood?" Nico said. "There's no time."

"We have to find them," Annabeth insisted. "They're our friends."

She picked up Grover's smashed cap and forged ahead.

The tunnel was treacherous. It sloped at weird angles and was slimy with moisture. Half the time they were slipping and sliding rather than walking.

Finally they got to the bottom of a slope and found themselves in a large cave with huge stalagmite columns. Through the center of the room ran an underground river, and Tyson was sitting at the bank, cradling Grover in his lap. Grover's eyes were closed. He wasn't moving.

"Tyson!" Percy yelled.

"Percy! Come quick!"

They ran over to him. Grover wasn't dead, thank the gods, but his whole body trembled like he was freezing to death.

"What happened?" Percy asked.

"So many things," Tyson murmured. "Large snake. Large dogs. Men with swords. But then... we got close to here. Grover was excited. He ran. Then we reached this room, and he fell. Like this."

"Did he say anything?" Percy asked.

"He said, 'We're close.' Then hit his head on rocks."

Percy knelt next to him. The only other time Naomi had seen Grover pass out was in New Mexico, when he'd felt the presence of Pan.

Percy shone his flashlight around the cavern. The rocks glittered. At the far end was the entrance to another cave, flanked by gigantic columns of crystal that looked like diamonds.

"Grover," Percy said. "Wake up."

"Uhhhhhhhh."

Annabeth knelt next to him and splashed icy cold river water in his face.

"Splurg!" His eyelids fluttered. "Percy? Annabeth? Where..."

"It's okay," Percy said. "You passed out. The presence was too much for you."

"I—I remember. Pan."

"Yeah," Percy said. "Something powerful is just beyond that doorway."

Percy made quick introductions, since Tyson and Grover had never met Rachel. Tyson told Rachel she was pretty, which made Annabeth's nostrils flare like she was going to blow fire.

"Anyway," Percy said. "Come on, Grover. Lean on me."

He and Annabeth helped the satyr up, and together they waded across the underground river. The current was strong. Nico and Naomi—both a little wobbly from their respective uses of their powers early—kept each other from getting swept away. Nico was scowling the whole time, but he didn't pull away, which Naomi counted as significant progress in their tenuous sibling relationship.

"I think we're in Carlsbad Caverns," Annabeth said, her teeth chattering. "Maybe an unexplored section."

"How do you know?" Percy asked.

"Carlsbad is in New Mexico," she said. "That would explain last winter."

Made sense. Grover's swooning episode had happened when they passed through New Mexico. That's where he'd felt closest to the power of Pan.

They got out of the water and kept walking. As the crystal pillars loomed larger, Naomi started to feel the power emanating from the next room. She'd been in the presence of gods before, but this was different. Her skin tingled with living energy. Her weariness fell away, as if she'd just had a good night's sleep. She could feel herself growing stronger, like a flower blossoming at the first breath of spring. And the scent coming from the cave was nothing like the dank wet underground. It smelled of trees and flowers and a warm summer day.

Grover whimpered with excitement. Naomi's heart fluttered with anticipation. Even Nico was speechless. They stepped into the cave, and Rachel said, "Oh, wow."

The walls glittered with crystals—red, green, blue. In the strange light, gorgeous plants grew—giant orchids, star-shaped flowers, vines bursting with orange and purple berries that crept among the crystals. The cave floor was covered with green moss. Overhead, the ceiling was higher than a cathedral, sparkling like a galaxy of stars. In the center of the cave stood a Roman-style bed, gilded wood shaped like a curly U, with velvet cushions. Animals lounged around it—but they were animals that shouldn't have been alive. There was a dodo bird, something that looked like a cross between a wolf and a tiger, a huge rodent like the mother of all guinea pigs, and roaming behind the bed, picking berries with its trunk, was a wooly mammoth.

On the bed lay an old satyr. He watched them as they approached, his eyes as blue as the sky. His curly hair was white with age, and so was his pointed beard. Even the goat fur on his legs was frosted with gray. His horns were enormous—glossy brown and curved. Around his neck hung a set of reed pipes.

Grover fell to his knees in front of the bed. "Lord Pan!"

The god smiled kindly, but there was sadness in his eyes. "Grover, my dear, brave satyr. I have waited a very long time for you."

"I... got lost," Grover apologized.

Pan laughed. It was a wonderful sound, like the first breeze of springtime, filling the whole cavern with hope. The tiger-wolf sighed and rested his head on the god's knee. The dodo bird pecked affectionately at the god's hooves, making a strange sound in the back of its bill.

Still, Pan looked tired. His whole form shimmered as if he were made of Mist.

Naomi knelt. It was the only thing she could think to do—to kneel, not just in reverence, but in mourning.

Because she could feel it, like a gentle hum underneath her skin.

The god was dying.

"You have a humming dodo bird," Percy blurted out.

The god's eyes twinkled. "Yes, that's Dede. My little actress."

Dede the dodo looked offended. She pecked at Pan's knee and hummed something that sounded like a funeral dirge.

"This is the most beautiful place!" Annabeth said. "It's better than any building ever designed."

"I am glad you like it, dear," Pan said. "It is one of the last wild places. My realm above is gone, I'm afraid. Only pockets remain. Tiny pieces of life. This one shall stay undisturbed... for a little longer."

"My lord," Grover said, "please, you must come back with me! The Elders will never believe it! They'll be overjoyed! You can save the wild!"

Pan placed his hand on Grover's head and ruffled his curly hair. "You are so young, Grover. So good and true. I think I chose well."

"Chose?" Grover said. "I—I don't understand."

Pan's image flickered, momentarily turning to smoke. The giant guinea pig scuttled under the bed with a terrified squeal. The wooly mammoth grunted nervously. Dede stuck her head under her wing. Then Pan re-formed.

"I have slept many eons," the god said forlornly. "My dreams have been dark. I wake fitfully, and each time my waking is shorter. Now we are near the end."

"What?" Grover cried. "But no! You're right here!"

"My dear satyr," Pan said. "I tried to tell the world, two thousand years ago. I announced it to Lysas, a satyr very much like you. He lived in Ephesos, and he tried to spread the word."

Annabeth's eyes widened. "The old story. A sailor passing by the coast of Ephesos heard a voice crying from the shore, 'Tell them the great god Pan is dead.'"

"But that wasn't true!" Grover said.

"Your kind never believed it," Pan said. "You sweet, stubborn satyrs refused to accept my passing. And I love you for that, but you only delayed the inevitable. You only prolonged my long, painful passing, my dark twilight sleep. It must end."

"No!" Grover's voice trembled.

"Dear Grover," Pan said. "You must accept the truth. Your companions, Naomi and Nico, they understand."

Nico nodded slowly. "He's dying. He should have died long ago. This... this is more like a memory."

"But gods can't die," Grover said.

"They can fade," Pan said, "when everything they stood for is gone. When they cease to have power, and their sacred places disappear. The wild, my dear Grover, is so small now, so shattered, that no god can save it. My realm is gone. That is why I need you to carry a message. You must go back to the council. You must tell the satyrs, and the dryads, and the other spirits of nature, that the great god Pan is dead. Tell them of my passing. Because they must stop waiting for me to save them. I cannot. The only salvation you must make yourself. Each of you must—"

He stopped and frowned at the dodo bird, who had started humming again.

"Dede, what are you doing?" Pan demanded. "Are you singing Kumbaya again?"

Dede looked up innocently and blinked her yellow eyes.

Pan sighed. "Everybody's a cynic. But as I was saying, my dear Grover, each of you must take up my calling."

"But... no!" Grover whimpered.

"Be strong," Pan said. "You have found me. And now you must release me. You must carry on my spirit. It can no longer be carried by a god. It must be taken up by all of you."

He looked at them with his clear blue eyes, and Naomi realized he wasn't just talking about the satyrs. He meant half-bloods, too, and humans. Everyone.

"Percy Jackson," the god said. "I know what you have seen today. I know your doubts. But I give you this news: when the time comes, you will not be ruled by fear."

He turned to Annabeth. "Daughter of Athena, your time is coming. You will play a great role, though it may not be the role you imagined."

Then he looked at Tyson. "Master Cyclops, do not despair. Heroes rarely live up to our expectations. But you, Tyson—your name shall live among the Cyclopes for generations. And Miss Rachel Dare..."

Rachel flinched when he said her name. She backed up like she was guilty of something, but Pan only smiled. He raised his hand in a blessing.

"I know you believe you cannot make amends," he said. "But you are just as important as your father."

"I—" Rachel faltered. A tear traced her cheek.

"I know you don't believe this now," Pan said. "But look for opportunities. They will come."

He turned to Naomi, and she felt the way she felt the first time she met her mother—like every flower in every garden had turned its face toward her. "Naomi Sakura. You have life and death inside of you, just as your mother does. You have lost much, but you have the world to gain. When your time comes, do not despair—you already know the choice you will make." The god smiled softly. "And please, plant a garden for me when I am gone."

Finally, he turned back toward Grover. "My dear satyr," Pan said kindly. "Will you carry my message?"

"I—I can't."

"You can," Pan said. "You are the strongest and the bravest. Your heart is true. You have believed in me more than anyone ever has, which is why you must bring the message, and why you must be the first to release me."

"I don't want to."

"I know," the god said. "But my name, Pan... originally it meant rustic. Did you know that? But over the years it has come to mean all. The spirit of the wild must pass to all of you now. You must tell each one you meet: if you would find Pan, take up Pan's spirit. Remake the wild, a little at a time, each in your own corner of the world. You cannot wait for anyone else, even a god, to do that for you."

Grover wiped his eyes. Then, slowly, he stood. "I've spent my whole life looking for you. Now... I release you."

Pan smiled. "Thank you, dear satyr. My final blessing."

He closed his eyes, and the god dissolved. White mist divided into wisps of energy, but this energy wasn't scary. It was comforting. A curl of smoke went straight into Naomi's mouth, into Grover's, into the others'. The crystals dimmed. The animals gave them a sad look. Dede the dodo sighed. Then they all turned gray and crumbled to dust. The vines withered. And they were alone in a dark cave, with an empty bed.

A single plant remained—a tiny bushel of orange butterfly weed.

Naomi bent down, carefully plucking the stem from the cave floor, and cradled it in her hands.

Percy switched on his flashlight, and Grover took a deep breath.

"Are... are you okay?" Percy asked him.

Grover looked older—sadder. He took his cap from Annabeth, brushed off the mud, and stuck it firmly on his curly head.

"We should go now," he said, "and tell them. The great god Pan is dead."

Chapter 87: xxii. shadows come out to play

Chapter Text

DISTANCE WAS SHORTER IN THE LABYRINTH. Still, by the time Rachel got them back to Times Square, Naomi felt like they'd pretty much run all the way from New Mexico. They climbed out of the Marriott basement and stood on the sidewalk in the bright summer daylight, squinting at the traffic and crowds.

Naomi couldn't quite decide which seemed less real—New York or the crystal cave where she'd watched a god die.

Percy led the way into an alley, then he whistled sharply five times.

A minute later, Rachel gasped. "They're beautiful!"

A flock of pegasi descended from the sky, swooping between the skyscrapers. Blackjack was in the lead, followed by four of his friends.

Percy and Rachel walked off to say goodbye. Naomi ignored the ill-timed twist in her stomach.

"We're supposed to fly?" Nico asked, his face paler than usual (which was a feat—Naomi wondered how much of a vitamin D deficiency he had going on). "No way."

"It's the quickest way to camp," Naomi said.

"Won't Zeus strike me out of the sky or something?"

"He hasn't struck Percy yet, and he flies with Blackjack all the time," she told him.

"What if two of his illegal nephews puts him over the edge?"

"Technically, only Percy's illegal," Naomi pointed out. "You were born before the oath."

Nico scowled at her. "I doubt Zeus'll care about a technicality."

Naomi sighed. "You can ride with me."

"So Zeus can kill you, too?"

She rolled her eyes. "Can you not be a pessimist for one second?"

"I'm a son of Hades, it comes with the territory," Nico countered.

"You've only known he was your dad for a few months, I doubt you know that much about the 'territory'," Naomi said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Get on the pegasus."

"You're not the boss of me," Nico argued.

"Yeah, well, you're twelve and I'm sixteen, so I have authority," she said.

"That's not how it works!"

"That's exactly how it works, now get on the pegasus!"

Nico scowled at her, grumbling under his breath in a language Naomi didn't understand. Despite his protests, though, he followed her to one of the horses—Porkpie, if Naomi remembered correctly.

The pegasus let Naomi pet his snout, but as soon as Nico got close, it shied away from him.

"See!" Nico said. "Even he doesn't want me flying!"

"What's wrong?" Percy asked. Rachel was nowhere in sight—Naomi guessed she'd left to go home.

She felt a little bad about the relief she felt, but she pushed it away.

"Porkpie's being a bit difficult," Naomi explained.

"Go without me!" Nico said. "I don't want to go back to that camp anyway."

"Nico," Percy said, "we need your help."

He folded his arms and scowled.

Naomi sighed. She put her arm on his shoulder, a tiny bit surprised when he didn't brush it off.

"Nico," she said. "Please."

Nico scowled at her, but it didn't last. "Fine," he said reluctantly. "But I'm not staying."

For the first time in a while, Naomi smiled.

At last, everybody got on a pegasus. They shot into the air, and soon they were over the East River, with Long Island spread out before them.

They landed in the middle of the cabin area and were immediately met by Chiron, the pot-bellied satyr Silenus, and a couple of Apollo cabin archers. Chiron raised an eyebrow when he saw Nico, but if Naomi expected him to be surprised by the news about Quintus being Daedalus or Kronos rising, she was mistaken.

"I feared as much," Chiron said. "We must hurry. Hopefully you have slowed down the Titan lord, but his vanguard will still be coming through. They will be anxious for blood. Most of our defenders are already in place. Come!"

"Wait a moment," Silenus demanded. "What of the search for Pan? You are almost three weeks overdue, Grover Underwood! Your searcher's license is revoked!"

Grover took a deep breath. He stood up straight and looked Silenus in the eye. "Searcher's licenses don't matter any more. The great god Pan is dead. He has passed on and left us his spirit."

"What?" Silenus's face turned bright red. "Sacrilege and lies! Grover Underwood, I will have you exiled for speaking thus!"

"It's true," Percy said. "We were there when he died. All of us."

"Impossible! You are all liars! Nature-destroyers!"

Chiron studied Grover's face. "We will speak of this later."

"We will speak of it now!" Silenus said. "We must deal with this—"

"Silenus," Chiron cut in. "My camp is under attack. The matter of Pan has waited two thousand years. I fear it will have to wait a bit longer. Assuming we are still here this evening."

And on that happy note, he readied his bow and galloped toward the woods, leaving them to follow as best they could.

Naomi had never seen the camp this prepared for battle. Everyone was in the clearing, dressed in full battle armor, but not for Capture the Flag. The Hephaestus cabin had set up traps around the entrance to the Labyrinth—razor wire, pits filled with pots of Greek fire, rows of sharpened sticks to deflect a charge. Beckendorf was manning two catapults the size of pickup trucks, already primed and aimed at Zeus's Fist. The Ares cabin was on the front line, drilling in phalanx formation with Clarisse calling orders. Apollo's and Hermes's cabins were scattered in the woods with bows ready. Many had taken up positions in the trees. Even the dryads were armed with bows, and the satyrs trotted around with wooden cudgels and shields made of rough tree bark.

Annabeth went to join her brethren from the Athena cabin, who had set up a command tent and were directing operations. A gray banner with an owl fluttered outside the tent. Argus stood guard at the door. Silena and her siblings were running around, making sure everyone's armor fit (for fashion or function, Naomi couldn't tell—probably both), offering hair ties and headbands for people with longer hair.

"You look like shit," Drew said as she tackled Naomi in a hug. "Here." She handed her a bandana—bright orange, just like the camp t-shirts. "Can't kick ass with your bangs in your face, huh?"

Naomi squeezed Drew's hand. "I'm glad you're here."

Drew's expression softened. "I'm glad you're here, too."

Then she ran off to help a Hermes kid put on her armor.

"It isn't enough," Chiron muttered.

Naomi swallowed. He was right—it was far from enough.

Nico grabbed her arm. "Do you feel...?"

"Yeah," Naomi whispered, not wanting anyone else to hear. "It feels like a cemetery."

She took a deep breath, wishing the air didn't taste like decay. "Come on," she told him. "We need armor."

Neither of them spoke as they got ready. There was nothing more to say. Death lingered all around them, waiting to collect. Thanatos felt more like a friend than a foe to Naomi, but frankly, she could do without ever seeing him again.

"We need more people," Nico said quietly. Naomi didn't miss the we, but she was too nervous to take pleasure in it.

"This is all we've got," Naomi whispered. "It'll have to do."

Nico looked at her. He knew as well as she did—it wasn't enough.

"Stay close," she told him. "And be careful."

He didn't argue. Naomi thanked the gods for small blessings.

The ground beneath them trembled.

Everyone in the clearing stopped what they were doing. Clarisse barked a single order: "Lock shields!"

Naomi drew her swords. Nico drew his.

The Titan lord's army exploded from the Labyrinth.

Before gods and monsters became Naomi's new normal, she'd considered herself a pacifist. She didn't like to fight, would much rather run from confrontation than ever engage in it head on.

Now, she had no choice but to fight.

The first thing she saw was a dozen Laistrygonian giants erupting from the ground, yelling so loudly her ears felt like bursting. They carried shields made from flattened cars, and clubs that were just tree trunks with rusty spikes bristling at the end. One of the giants bellowed at the Ares phalanx, smashed it sideways with his club, and the entire cabin was thrown aside, a dozen warriors tossed to the wind like rag dolls.

"Fire!" Beckendorf yelled. The catapults swung into action. Two boulders hurtled toward the giants. One deflected off a car shield with hardly a dent, but the other caught a Laistrygonian in the chest, and the giant went down. Apollo's archers fired a volley, dozens of arrows sticking in the thick armor of the giants like porcupine quills. Several found chinks in armor, and some of the giants vaporized at the touch of celestial bronze.

But just when it looked like the Laistrygonians were about to get overwhelmed, the next wave surged out of the maze: thirty, maybe forty dracaenae in full battle armor, wielding spears and nets. They dispersed in all directions. Some hit the traps the Hephaestus cabin had laid. One got struck on the spikes and became an easy target for archers. Another triggered a trip wire, and pots of Greek fire exploded into green flames, engulfing several of the snake women. But many more kept coming. Argus and Athena's warriors rushed forward to meet them. Naomi saw Annabeth draw a sword and engage one of them. Nearby, Tyson was riding a giant. Somehow he'd managed to climb onto the giant's back and was hitting him on the head with a bronze shield—BONG! BONG! BONG!

Naomi charged at the nearest dracaena. She dodged the snake-woman's net and slashed Asphodel through her waist, watching the monster disintegrate in seconds, the dust soaking into the black blade. She engaged with a second, cutting its spear in half and driving Hemlock through its stomach.

Adrenaline flowed through her, and anger, and grief.

And death—so much death.

More enemies kept climbing out of the maze—more giants, more drachnae, those demon-dogs, all kinds of serpents, more donkey-legged girls. And half-bloods—too many half-bloods. Naomi wondered how many campers were facing off against old friends.

Naomi found herself searching the crowd for an eyepatch. She wasn't sure anymore if she was searching for a lost friend or an enemy.

A dozen drachaenae suddenly broke away from the main fight and slithered down the path that led toward the camp, like they had a plan. If they got out, they could burn down the entire place, completely unopposed.

The only person near was Nico (so much for staying close—he was several yards away). He stabbed a demon-dog, his blade absorbing the monster's essence until there was nothing left but dust.

"Nico!" Percy shouted, pointing at the serpent women.

Nico looked and immediately understood. He took a deep breath and held out his sword. "Serve me," he called.

The earth trembled. A fissure opened in front of the dracaenae and a dozen undead warriors crawled from the earth—horrible corpses in military uniforms from all different time periods—U.S. Revolutionaries, Roman centurions, Napoleonic cavalry on skeletal horses. As one, they drew their swords and engaged the dracaenae.

Nico crumpled to his knees. Naomi sliced through the donkey-girl she was fighting and sprinted to his side.

One of the dracaenae managed to break free of the undead warriors, but Naomi was there, cutting her down in a second. Asphodel drank her soul.

"You good?" Naomi asked Nico.

"'M fine," he mumbled tiredly. "Go fight."

Naomi looked at him, then back at the fight. She didn't want to leave him alone like this, but then two of the now unoccupied skeleton warriors (gods they worked fast) came to stand by Nico, like sentinels on guard.

"Stay safe," she said, and ran back to the fight.

Naomi reached Miranda in time to watch her ensnare a demon-dog in rope-thick vines until it exploded into dust.

"You okay?" Miranda shouted over the fighting, wiping sweat off of her brow.

"I'm great!" Naomi shouted back, cutting through a serpent. "Fucking fantastic!"

"Watch your language!" Katie scolded as she dodged a dracaenae net. Travis next to her sliced the serpent-woman in half as Katie impaled a donkey-girl trying to sneak up on him.

"We need more people!" Travis yelled. "There's not enough of us!"

"There's no one else!" Miranda yelled back. Her voice shook just a bit. "This is everyone we've got."

But it wasn't enough. It couldn't be enough, not when Naomi could feel the campers falling almost as fast as the monsters they fought. People kept dying, and monsters kept coming.

They needed numbers.

Naomi, a voice called. Let us give you the numbers.

"Dad?" Naomi whispered.

Call on us, he told her. The Umbra Electi. We will come. We will fight.

"I don't understand."

You don't need to understand. Just call us.

Naomi's limbs moved as if this was a dance she already knew the steps to. She stabbed Asphodel into the ground, like Nico had stabbed his sword, but this was different. The darkness of the blade spread like smoke, rolling over the grass.

"Everyone, get back!" Naomi shouted.

She felt a twist in her stomach. Goosebumps erupted across her skin, but the cold was welcome. The darkness from Asphodel crept up the blade like someone was taking her hand.

Another twist.

The darkness took shape in front of her—growing legs and arms and a faceless head. It was pitch-black, a warrior made of shadows, of darkness. But he didn't need a face—Naomi knew the shadow standing before her.

"Dad."

All around her, shadows took the shape of warriors. Some came from the darkness of Naomi's blade; others peeled themselves off of the ground behind campers, behind monsters, behind enemy half-bloods. Every shadow in the clearing and more, taking shape, wielding shadow-weapons, with shadow-shields.

Good, her father said. Now, we fight.

The shadows surged into battle.

Miranda stared at Naomi with wide eyes. "How... how did you do that?"

Naomi took a deep breath, and shook her head. "No idea."

She didn't ponder on it any longer—she launched back into battle, her father's shadow right beside her.

The shadows needed no commands—they knew exactly who to fight, exactly who to protect. They had been warriors in another life, like Naomi, like her father. Three went to Nico as his undead warriors collapsed back into piles of bones. Another pair joined Drew and Silena in battle against a clique of donkey-legged girls.

In the distance, Naomi saw Percy and Annabeth fall, Kampe standing over them with her raised swords. A handful of shadow-warriors charged the monster, grappling with her arms, covering her eyes, but the killing blow came from Briares, the Hundred-handed One.

Naomi ran toward her friends as the giant launched a volley of boulders at Kampe. The rocks seemed to enlarge as they left Briares's hands. There were so many, it looked like half the earth had learned to fly.

BOOOOOOM!

Where Kampe had stood a moment before was a mountain of boulders, almost as tall as Zeus's Fist. The only sign that the monster had ever existed were two green sword points sticking through the cracks.

Naomi reached her friends as two shadow-warriors helped them to their feet. They looked at Naomi, then back at the shadow-warriors, who bowed their heads (well, Naomi thought they bowed—it was hard to tell when they were just shadowy blobs) at her before running back into battle.

"How...?" Annabeth started to ask.

"Guess my meeting with the void came with perks," Naomi said breathlessly.

"I'll say," Percy managed.

A cheer rose up from the campers as the monsters dwindled significantly, but their enemies weren't done quite yet. One of the dracaenae yelled, "Ssssslay them! Kill them all or Kronossss will flay you alive!"

Apparently, that threat was more terrifying than anything the campers and shadow-warriors could throw at them. The giants surged forward in a last desperate attempt. One surprised Chiron with a glancing blow to the back legs, and he stumbled and fell. Six giants cried in glee and rushed forward.

"No!" Percy screamed, but they were too far away to help.

Then it happened.

Grover opened his mouth, and the most horrible sound Naomi had ever heard came out. It was like a brass trumpet magnified a thousand times—the sound of pure fear.

As one, the forces of Kronos dropped their weapons and ran for their lives. The giants trampled the dracaenae trying to get into the Labyrinth first. Telekhines and hellhounds and enemy half-bloods scrambled after them. The tunnel rumbled shut, and the battle was over. The clearing was quiet except for the fires burning in the woods, and the cries of the wounded.

Naomi and her friends ran to Chiron.

"Are you alright?" Percy asked.

Chiron was lying on his side, trying in vain to stand. "How embarrassing," he muttered. "I think I will be fine. Fortunately, we do not shoot centaurs with broken... Ow! ...broken legs."

"You need help," Annabeth said. "I'll get a medic from Apollo's cabin."

"No," Chiron insisted. "There are more serious injuries to attend to. Go! I am fine. But, Grover... later we must talk about how you did that."

"That was amazing," Percy agreed.

Grover blushed. "I don't know where it came from."

Juniper hugged him fiercely. "I do!"

Before she could say more, Tyson called, "Naomi, Percy, come quick! It is Nico!"

There was smoke curling off Nico's black clothes. His fingers were clenched, and the grass all around his body had turned yellow and died.

Percy rolled him over as gently as he could and put his hand on Nico's chest. "Get some nectar!" he yelled.

One of the Ares campers hobbled over and handed him a canteen. He trickled some of the nectar into Nico's mouth. He coughed and spluttered, but his eyelids fluttered open.

"Nico, what happened?" Naomi asked, kneeling at his side. "Can you talk?"

He nodded weakly. "Never tried to summon so many before. I—I'll be fine."

They helped him sit up and drink more nectar. He blinked at them, as if trying to remember who they were, and then he focused on someone behind them.

"Daedalus," he croaked.

"Yes, my boy," the inventor said. "I made a very bad mistake. I came to correct it."

Daedalus had a few scratches that were bleeding golden oil, but he looked better than most of them. Apparently his automaton body healed itself quickly. Mrs. O'Leary loomed behind him, licking the wounds on her master's head so Daedalus's hair stood up. Briares stood next to him, surrounded by a group of awed campers and satyrs. He looked kind of bashful, but he was signing autographs on armor, shields, and T-shirts.

"I found the Hundred-Handed One as I came through the maze," Daedalus explained. "It seems he had the same idea—to come help—but he was lost. And so we fell in together. We both came to make amends."

"Yay!" Tyson jumped up and down. "Briares! I knew you would come!"

"I did not know," the Hundred-Handed One said. "But you reminded me who I am, Cyclops. You are the hero."

Tyson blushed, but Percy patted him on the back. "I knew that a long time ago," he said. "But, Daedalus... the Titan army is still down there. Even without the string, they'll be back. They'll find a way sooner or later, with Kronos leading them."

Daedalus sheathed his sword. "You are right. As long as the Labyrinth is here, your enemies can use it. Which is why the Labyrinth cannot continue."

Annabeth stared at him. "But you said the Labyrinth is tied to your life force! As long as you're alive—"

"Yes, my young architect," Daedalus agreed. "When I die, the Labyrinth will die as well. And so I have a present for you."

He slung a leather satchel off his back, unzipped it, and produced a sleek silver laptop computer—one of the ones from his workshop. On the lid was the blue symbol .

"My work is here," he said. "It's all I managed to save from the fire. Notes on projects I never started. Some of my favorite designs. I couldn't develop these over the last few millennia. I did not dare reveal my work to the mortal world. But perhaps you will find it interesting."

He handed the computer to Annabeth, who stared at it like it was solid gold. "You're giving me this? But this is priceless! This is worth... I don't even know how much!"

"Small compensation for the way I have acted," Daedalus said. "You were right, Annabeth, about children of Athena. We should be wise, and I was not. Someday you will be a greater architect than I ever was. Take my ideas and improve them. It is the least I can do before I pass on."

"Whoa," Percy said. "Pass on? But you can't just kill yourself. That's wrong."

He shook his head. "Not as wrong as hiding from my crimes for two thousand years. Genius does not excuse evil, Percy. My time has come. I must face my punishment."

"You won't get a fair trial," Annabeth said. "The spirit of Minos sits in judgment—"

"I will take what comes," he said. "And trust in the justice of the Underworld, such as it is. That is all we can do, isn't it?"

He looked straight at Nico, and Nico's face darkened.

"Yes," he said.

"Will you take my soul for ransom, then?" Daedalus asked. "You could use it to reclaim your sister."

"No," Nico said. His voice shook a little, but it was steadier than Naomi would have expected. "I will help you release your spirit. But Bianca has passed. She must stay where she is."

Daedalus nodded. "Well done, son of Hades. You are becoming wise." Then he turned toward Percy. "One last favor, Percy Jackson. I cannot leave Mrs. O'Leary alone. And she has no desire to return to the Underworld. Will you care for her?"

Percy looked at Mrs. O'Leary, who whimpered pitifully, still licking Daedalus's hair. "Yeah," he said. "Of course I will."

"Then I am ready to see my son... and Perdix," Daedalus said. "I must tell them how sorry I am."

Annabeth had tears in her eyes. Naomi wrapped an arm around her.

Daedalus turned toward Nico, who drew his sword. "Your time is long since come," he said. "Be released and rest."

A smile of relief spread across Daedalus's face. He froze like a statue. His skin turned transparent, revealing the bronze gears and machinery whirring inside his body. Then the statue turned to gray ash and disintegrated.

Mrs. O'Leary howled. Percy patted her head, trying to comfort her. The earth rumbled—an earthquake that could probably be felt in every major city across the country—as the ancient Labyrinth collapsed.

"Come on," Percy said quietly, when only silence remained of the ruining of the maze. "We have work to do."

Chapter 88: xxiii. goodbyes

Chapter Text

THERE WERE TOO MANY GOODBYES.

That night was the first time Naomi actually saw the camp burial shrouds used on bodies, and it was something she never wanted to see again.

Lee Fletcher, who'd been the first half-blood Naomi met at camp, was among the dead—downed by a giant's club. He was wrapped in a golden shroud without any decoration.

His sister, Lizzy—Drew's girlfriend—had fallen, too. Drew didn't cry, but she gripped Silena's hand like a lifeline.

Castor, one of the twin sons of Dionysus, had gone down fighting an enemy half-blood. He was wrapped in a deep purple shroud, embroidered with grapevines. His brother, Pollux, tried to say a few words, but he choked up and just took the torch. He lit the funeral pyre in the middle of the amphitheater, and within seconds the row of shrouds was engulfed in flames, sending smoke and sparks up to the stars.

They spent the next day treating the wounded, which was almost everyone. The satyrs and dryads worked to repair the damage to the woods.

At noon, the Council of Cloven Elders held an emergency meeting in their sacred grove. The three senior satyrs were there, along with Chiron, who was in wheelchair form. His broken horse leg was still mending, so he would be confined to the chair for a few months, until the leg was strong enough to take his weight. The grove was filled with satyrs and dryads and naiads up from the water—hundreds of them, anxious to hear what would happen. Juniper, Annabeth, Percy, and Naomi stood by Grover's side.

Silenus wanted to exile Grover immediately, but Chiron persuaded him to at least hear evidence first, so they told everyone what had happened in the crystal cavern, and what Pan had said. Then several eyewitnesses from the battle described the weird sound Grover had made, which drove the Titan's army back underground.

"It was panic," insisted Juniper. "Grover summoned the power of the wild god."

"Panic?" Percy asked.

"Percy," Chiron explained, "during the first war of the gods and the Titans, Lord Pan let forth a horrible cry that scared away the enemy armies. It is—it was his greatest power—a massive wave of fear that helped the gods win the day. The word panic is named after Pan, you see. And Grover used that power, calling it forth from within himself."

"Preposterous!" Silenus bellowed. "Sacrilege! Perhaps the wild god favored us with a blessing. Or perhaps Grover's music was so awful it scared the enemy away!"

"That wasn't it, sir," Grover said. He sounded a lot calmer than Naomi would have expected. "He let his spirit pass into all of us. We must act. Each of us must work to renew the wild, to protect what's left of it. We must spread the word. Pan is dead. There is no one but us."

"After two thousand years of searching, this is what you would have us believe?" Silenus cried. "Never! We must continue the search! Exile the traitor!"

Some of the older satyrs muttered assent.

"A vote!" Silenus demanded. "Who would believe this ridiculous young satyr, anyway?"

"I would," said a familiar voice.

Everyone turned. Striding into the grove was Dionysus. He wore a formal black suit, so Naomi almost didn't recognize him. His eyes were bloodshot as usual, and his face was flushed, but he looked like he was suffering from grief more than wine-withdrawal.

The satyrs all stood respectfully and bowed as he approached. Dionysus waved his hand, and a new chair grew out of the ground next to Silenus's—a throne made of grapevines.

Dionysus sat down and crossed his legs. He snapped his fingers and satyrs hurried forward with a plate of cheese and crackers and a Diet Coke.

The god of wine looked around at the assembled crowd. "Miss me?"

The satyrs fell over themselves nodding and bowing. "Oh, yes, very much, sire!"

"Well, I did not miss this place!" Dionysus snapped. "I bear bad news, my friends. Evil news. The minor gods are changing sides. Morpheus has gone over to the enemy. Hecate, Janus, and Nemesis, as well. Zeus knows how many more."

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"Strike that," Dionysus said. "Even Zeus doesn't know. Now, I want to hear Grover's story. Again, from the top."

"But, my lord," Silenus protested. "It's just nonsense!"

Dionysus's eyes flared with purple fire. "I have just learned that my son Castor is dead, Silenus. I am not in a good mood. You would do well to humor me."

Silenus gulped, and waved at Grover to start again.

When Grover was done, Mr. D nodded. "It sounds like just the sort of thing Pan would do. Grover is right. The search is tiresome. You must start thinking for yourselves." He turned to a satyr. "Bring me some peeled grapes, right away!"

"Yes, sire!" The satyr scampered off.

"We must exile the traitor!" Silenus insisted.

"I say no," Dionysus countered. "That is my vote."

"I vote no as well," Chiron put in.

Silenus set his jaw stubbornly. "All in favor of exile?"

He and the two other old satyrs raised their hands.

"Three to two," Silenus said.

"Ah, yes," Dionysus said. "But unfortunately for you, a god's vote counts twice. And as I voted against, we are tied."

Silenus stood, indignant. "This is an outrage! The council cannot stand at an impasse."

"Then let it be dissolved!" Mr. D said. "I don't care."

Silenus bowed stiffly, along with his two friends, and they left the grove. About twenty satyrs went with them. The rest stood around, murmuring uncomfortably.

"Don't worry," Grover told them. "We don't need the council to tell us what to do. We can figure it out ourselves."

He told them again the words of Pan—how they must save the wild a little at a time. He started dividing the satyrs into groups—which ones would go to the national parks, which ones would search out the last wild places, which ones would defend the parks in the big cities.

"Well," Annabeth said to Percy and Naomi, "Grover seems to be growing up."

Naomi took a deep breath. "I think we all are."

When everyone was gone and she stood along in the grove, Naomi took the butterfly weed from her pocket. She set it carefully on the dirt, and watched the roots dig into the soil immediately, making a home in the grove where a bit of Pan's spirit could keep watch.

"We'll do whatever it takes to get it right," she promised the faded god.

Then she stood. She could hear the sing-along at the amphitheater, faint from distance. The sun was beginning to set, casting shadows in the grove. She felt at home in the darkness, as she always did.

She felt his presence before she saw him.

"Dad," she whispered.

The shadow-warriors had disappeared when the Titan army stampeded back into the Labyrinth—all but one, it seemed. Now he stood before her: her father, as solid as she could ever know him. She could almost imagine his face in the void that was his form now.

His hand was a cold comfort as he touched her cheek.

You've done well, komori, he murmured. You are even stronger than I had hoped you would be. And now, you must use that strength to say goodbye.

Naomi's throat felt clogged with grief. "What?" she asked. "But you—you said this was your afterlife, the shadows... why do I have to say goodbye?"

Sixteen years ago, I made a deal with the darkness, her father told her. I would be allowed to remain in the shadows until you no longer needed me, until you were strong enough to get through on your own. My time in this limbo is over.

Naomi shook her head. "It—it's not. It can't be. I still need you."

You don't, her father said. You have all that you need here.

A tear slipped down her cheek. "But you said you would always be with me," she whimpered. "You—you promised."

And I will be, he murmured. Always. But it is time I faced the Judges of the Dead, as we all must. It is time I rest.

Naomi wanted to argue—she wanted to beg him to stay, just a little longer, just until this war was over and she wasn't terrified anymore.

But she couldn't imagine what this kind of fate must have been like—relegated to the shadows, watching without hope of interfering save for a single battle or whispered advice.

Still, as selfish as it was, she wanted him to stay.

No matter how it happened, no matter the consequences, you have always been my greatest joy, her father murmured. Let no being, god or Titan or otherwise, tell you differently, Naomi.

"Please," Naomi whispered. She wasn't sure what she was asking of him.

Let me go, komori, he said. I won't be able to leave you if you ask me to stay.

"But there's so much I still don't know," she protested.

And you will learn it, her father told her. But you must learn it on your own. That is the way of the greatest heroes.

"I don't want to be alone."

You won't be, he whispered. Never again. You have your friends. You have a brother now. And you will always have me and your mother, even if you can't see us.

Naomi thought her sorrow would swallow her whole. That was how overwhelming it was—like a riptide pulling her farther from shore, dragging her under, leaving her gasping for breath. She didn't want to say goodbye.

But she had to.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice almost hollow. "Goodbye, Dad."

The shadow bent, kissing her on the forehead.

Goodbye, komori.

And then he was gone, like ashes carried by the wind.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there, stranded in a sea of grief, miles from shore, before she heard a voice.

"Nay?"

She turned, seeing Percy watching her with a look of concern.

Naomi reached up and wiped her wet cheeks. "My dad... he's gone. Gone gone."

She doubted he understood fully what she meant, but he opened his arms, and she walked into them, letting herself soak in his warmth.

She felt older—worn. For a moment, she wondered how the gods could stand it. How they could witness this kind of grief a thousand times and still live on, still wake up every morning. She wondered how many of them had hoped for a fate like Pan's, fading into nonexistence for rest at last.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Naomi turned her head and saw a glow in the trees. Percy followed her gaze.

She took his hand, and they silently walked toward it.

They found Nico deep in the woods, standing before the shimmering form of Bianca di Angelo. She said something to him and touched his face—or tried to.

She looked over his shoulder, smiling at Naomi. For just a moment, Naomi imagined what could have been—a life with a brother and a sister, neither so tarnished by grief and death and tragedy.

They would have been happy. Naomi was sure of that.

Then Bianca's image faded, and it was dark again.

Nico turned and saw Naomi and Percy, but he didn't look mad.

"Saying goodbye," he explained hoarsely.

"We missed you at dinner," Percy said. "You could've sat with me."

"No."

Naomi took a deep breath. "Nico, you can't miss every meal. If you don't want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the Big House. They've got plenty of rooms.

"I'm not staying, Naomi."

"But... you can't just leave. It's not safe out there for a lone half-blood. You need to train."

"I train with the dead," he said flatly. "This camp isn't for me. There's a reason they didn't put a cabin to Hades here. He's not welcome, any more than he is on Olympus. I don't belong. I have to go."

If Naomi had had any fight left in her, she would have argued. But the day had weighed on her, and all she could do was ask, "When will you go?"

"Right away," he said. "I've got tons of questions. Like who was my mother? Who paid for Bianca and me to go to school? Who was that lawyer guy who got us out of the Lotus Hotel? I know nothing about my past. I need to find out."

"I understand," Naomi said, because after everything, she truly did. There were a thousand questions inside of her about her father, about the Umbra Electi, about the darkness she had walked through and those who'd walked through before. "But hopefully we can be friends instead of enemies."

He lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry I was a brat. I should've listened to you about Bianca."

"Speaking of..." Naomi reached into her pocket. "I held onto this. Thought you might want it." She held out a lead figurine of Hades—the little Mythomagic statue Nico had abandoned when he fled camp last winter.

Nico hesitated. "I don't play that game any more. It's for kids."

"It's got four thousand attack power," Percy coaxed.

"Five thousand," Nico corrected. "But only if your opponent attacks first."

Percy smiled. "Maybe it's okay to still be a kid once in a while."

Naomi handed Nico the statue.

He studied it in his palm for a few seconds, then slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks."

Percy put out his hand. Nico shook it reluctantly.

"I've got a lot of things to investigate," he said. "Some of them... well, if I learn anything useful, I'll let you know."

Naomi wasn't sure what he meant, but she held out her hand. "Keep in touch, Nico."

He put his hand in hers. It was cold, but she held on for a moment, and prayed to all the gods Nico would be okay.

She didn't want to lose anyone else.

(A naïve hope, with what they would be facing in the coming year, but she held onto it all the same.)

He turned and trudged off into the woods. The shadows bent toward him as he walked, like they were reaching out for his attention, and Naomi knew he would be safe as long as there was darkness within reach. It would protect him, just as it protected her.

A voice right behind her and Percy said, "There goes a very troubled young man."

They turned and saw Dionysus standing there, still in his black suit.

"Walk with me," he said.

"Where to?" Percy asked suspiciously.

"Just to the campfire," he said. "I was beginning to feel better, so I thought I would talk with you a bit. You always manage to annoy me."

"Uh, thanks."

They walked through the woods in silence. Dionysus was treading on air, his polished black shoes hovering an inch off the ground. Naomi guessed he didn't want to get them dirty.

"We have had many betrayals," he said. "Things are not looking good for Olympus. Yet you two and Annabeth saved this camp. I'm not sure I should thank you for that."

"It was a group effort."

He shrugged. "Regardless, I suppose it was mildly competent, what you three did. I thought you should know—it wasn't a total loss."

They reached the amphitheater, and Dionysus pointed toward the campfire. Clarisse was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Chris Rodriguez, who was telling her a joke.

Naomi looked at Dionysus. "You cured him?"

"Madness is my specialty. It was quite simple."

"But... you did something nice," Percy said in disbelief. "Why?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I am nice! I simply ooze niceness, Perry Johansson. Haven't you noticed?"

"Uh—"

"Perhaps I felt grieved by my son's death." He sighed. "Perhaps I thought this Chris boy deserved a second chance. At any rate, it seems to have improved Clarisse's mood."

"Why are you telling us this?"

The wine god sighed again. "Oh, Hades if I know. But remember, boy, that a kind act can sometimes be as powerful as a sword. As a mortal, I was never a great fighter or athlete or poet. I only made wine. The people in my village laughed at me. They said I would never amount to anything. Look at me now. Sometimes small things can become very large indeed."

He left Naomi and Percy alone to think about that. And as Naomi watched Clarisse and Chris singing a stupid campfire song together, holding hands in the darkness, where they thought nobody could see them, she couldn't help but smile.

Chapter 89: xxiv. cake and ice cream

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

THAT NIGHT, NAOMI'S DREAM BROUGHT HER TO A GARDEN. It was green as far as Naomi could see, the grass dotted with sections of color—a hundred different kinds of flowers, vines, and trees. The air smelled like honeysuckle and lavender and a hundred other kinds of floral scents. The sun warmed her in an instant, even in a dream.

Her mother was waiting for her in a patch of daylilies.

"Kore," she said, smiling. She looked different in the summertime—her curls were tied into an updo on top of her head, her face was dotted with freckles. Her skin was darker, warmer, from days spent in the sunlight. "Come. I've missed you."

Naomi walked toward her, and Persephone's smile wavered at her slow pace. "Is everything alright, darling?"

Naomi swallowed. "We need to talk."

"Indeed," her mother said, her tone light. "You did extraordinarily well against Kronos's forces, and inside of the Labyrinth. I am so proud of you."

"That's not what I want to talk about," Naomi said. "I want to talk about my father."

The calm in Persephone's expression faltered, but she made a good effort of appearing unbothered. "What... what about him, dear?"

"He wasn't mortal," Naomi said. "Was he?"

This time, the calm in Persephone's expression couldn't make a comeback. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

"When he died, he made a deal to exist in the shadows," Naomi said. "And he told me I was his greatest joy, no matter the consequences. Those consequences weren't just me being your bastard, were they?"

Persephone swallowed. Naomi had never seen a goddess so nervous. "It is... complicated, Kore."

"So he wasn't mortal," Naomi concluded. "Was he a demigod?"

Her mother set down her basket, which was full to the brim with flowers. "I... I can't tell you, Naomi."

"I have a right to know," Naomi said. "You can't keep me in the dark forever."

"I can't tell you," Persephone insisted.

"Why not?" Naomi demanded. "He's my dad, why can't you tell me what he was?"

"Because telling you would mean saying goodbye to you!" The goddess's voice echoed, even in the massive garden with no walls as far as the eye could see. It reverberated through Naomi's chest, like an earthquake, like another Labyrinth collapsing beneath her sternum.

"What does that mean?" Naomi asked.

Persephone wouldn't—couldn't—answer.

"This has something to do with why Kronos wants to use me as a weapon, doesn't it?" Naomi said. "And why the gods don't like the fact that I exist. It's because of my dad. Did he... did he do something?"

Persephone shook her head firmly. "Your father was a good man," she insisted. "A better man than most."

"But who was he?" Naomi asked desperately. "Please, Mom."

Naomi only realized belatedly that this was the first time she'd called Persephone Mom. But her mother noticed, and her nervous tension seemed to melt.

She stepped closer, and placed a hand on Naomi's cheek—on the opposite cheek that her father had touched. Hers was so much warmer that it almost hurt. "I cannot speak of it, Kore," she whispered. "I wish to all the gods I could, but I've been forbidden."

"Forbidden by who?"

"I cannot say," Persephone told her. "All I can say—all you can know... is that Benjamin Sakura was a good man, and he loved you with every fiber of his being. And if there is any justice in the world, he's sitting in Elysium right now."

Naomi studied her mother's face, and she knew she wouldn't get any more answers about him. Not now—maybe never.

So instead, she asked something different—something she'd wanted to ask for two years.

"Chiron said the Fates visited you when I was born," she said. She swallowed. "They gave me a prophecy, didn't they?"

The mournful look in her mother's eyes was all the answer Naomi needed.

Persephone's shoulders sagged. She had always looked young to Naomi, but it was as if just the mention of that day aged her tremendously.

Naomi expected her to deflect, to change the subject or stop the dream-visit altogether. So she was surprised when Persephone reached a hand out, cupping Naomi's cheek again, and murmured, "You were hardly an hour old." She ran her thumb underneath Naomi's eye, tracing along the top of her cheekbone. "I wept harder that day than I'd ever wept in my life."

"What did they say about me?" Naomi whispered. "What's going to happen? Was it about the Great Prophecy, the war with the Titans?"

It was as if her mother didn't even hear the question. "You were such a tiny little thing," she said softly. "I thought the weight of their words—I thought that fate, that destiny... I thought it would crush you. Sometimes I still fear it."

"What did they say?" Naomi almost pleaded. "Please, Mom."

"Knowing tempts us into trying to change fate, and that never ends well," Persephone whispered. "Gods know I can attest to that."

"What do you mean?"

Persephone closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her eyes glistened with tears. "I wish to all the gods I could shield you from this, Kore. But I never could, no matter how hard I tried."

"Mom—"

"You have to go now," Persephone murmured. "You have to wake up."

"But my prophecy—" Naomi protested.

"You will learn it in time," her mother promised. "When the Fates deem you ready." She lifted her other hand to Naomi's face, so she was held between her mother's hands, face warmed by her calloused palms. "I pray you can forgive your father and I when you learn it."

The summer felt unnaturally mundane after the devastation they suffered.

The daily activities continued: archery, rock climbing, pegasus riding. They played capture the flag (though no one went anywhere near Zeus's Fist). They sang at the campfire and raced chariots and played practical jokes on the other cabins. Naomi summoned Skia more often than usual, and the hellhound was a good friend to Mrs. O'Leary, who still mourned her old master from time to time.

Naomi, Percy, and Annabeth skirted around each other for most of the summer, all consumed by their own separate griefs and worries. Naomi was glad to be with them, but it hurt, too. And it hurt when she wasn't with them.

July passed, with fireworks on the beach at the Fourth of July. August turned so hot the strawberries started baking in the fields. Finally, the last day of camp arrived.

Naomi and Annabeth went to see Percy off. Annabeth had arranged to stay at camp a little longer, to help tend to Chiron until his leg was fully recovered, and to keep studying Daedalus's laptop, which had engrossed her for the last two months. Then she would head back to her father's place in San Francisco.

"There's a private school out there that I'll be going to," she said. "I'll probably hate it, but..." She shrugged.

"Yeah, well, call me, okay?" Percy said.

"Sure," she said half-heartedly. "I'll keep my eyes open for..."

There it was again—the one subject they could never tackle head-on. Luke. Annabeth couldn't even say his name without opening up a huge box of hurt and worry and anger.

"Annabeth," Percy said. "What was the rest of the prophecy?"

She fixed her eyes on the woods in the distance, but she didn't say anything.

"You shall delve in the darkness of the endless maze," Percy recited. "The dead, the traitor, and the lost one raise. We raised a lot of the dead. We saved Ethan, who turned out to be a traitor. We raised the spirit of Pan, the lost one."

"The flower listens to the shadow's calls," Naomi said. "Lost in darkness, the chosen falls. I listened to my dad; I got lost, I fell."

Annabeth shook her head like she wanted them to stop.

"You shall rise or fall by the ghost king's hand," Percy pressed on. "That wasn't Minos, like I'd thought. It was Nico. By choosing to be on our side, he saved us. And the child of Athena's final stand—that was Daedalus."

"Percy—"

"Destroy with a hero's final breath. That makes sense now. Daedalus died to destroy the Labyrinth. But what was the last—"

"And lose a love to worse than death." Annabeth had tears in her eyes. "That was the last line, Percy. Are you happy now?"

The sun seemed colder than it had a moment ago. "Oh," he said. "So Luke—"

"Percy, I didn't know who the prophecy was talking about. I—I didn't know if..." She faltered helplessly. "Luke and I—for years, he was the only one who really cared about me. I thought..."

Before she could continue, a sparkle of light appeared next to them, like someone had opened a gold curtain in the air.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my dear." Standing on the hill was a tall woman in a white dress, her dark hair braided over her shoulder.

"Hera," Annabeth said.

The goddess smiled. "You found the answers, as I knew you would. Your quest was a success."

"A success?" Annabeth said. "Luke is gone. Daedalus is dead. Pan is dead. How is that—"

"Our family is safe," Hera insisted. "Those others are better gone, my dear. I am proud of you."

Naomi wondered how much divine punishment she would be subjected to if she tried to fight the queen of the gods. She couldn't believe she was talking so blasé about the horror they'd gone through.

"You're the one who paid Geryon to let us through the ranch, weren't you?" Percy asked.

Hera shrugged. Her dress shimmered in rainbow colors. "I wanted to speed you on your way."

"But you didn't care about Naomi, or Nico," Percy said. "You were happy to see them turned over to the Titans."

"Oh, please." Hera waved her hand dismissively. "The son of Hades said it himself. No one wants him around. He does not belong. And Naomi made it through in the end. We should expect as much."

Naomi scowled. "Nico's a kid," she said. "And he's my brother. How could you just leave him at the mercy of the Titans?"

"Hephaestus was right," Percy growled. "You only care about your perfect family, not real people."

Hera's eyes turned dangerously bright. "Watch yourself, son of Poseidon. I guided you more than you know in the maze. I was at your side when you faced Geryon. I let your arrow fly straight. I sent you to Calypso's island. I opened the way to the Titan's mountain. Annabeth, my dear, surely you see how I've helped. I would welcome a sacrifice for my efforts."

Annabeth stood still as a statue. She could've said "thank you." She could've promised to throw some barbecue on the brazier for Hera and forget the whole thing. But she clenched her jaw stubbornly. She looked just the way she had when she'd faced the Sphinx—like she wasn't going to accept an easy answer, even if it got her in serious trouble.

It was one of the things Naomi had come to love about her.

"Percy is right." She turned her back on the goddess. "You're the one who doesn't belong, Queen Hera. So next time, thanks... but no thanks."

Hera's sneer was fearsome. Her form began to glow. "You will regret this insult, Annabeth. You will regret this very much."

Naomi looked away as the goddess turned into her true divine form and disappeared in a blaze of light.

The hilltop was peaceful once more. Over at the pine tree, Peleus the dragon dozed under the Golden Fleece as if nothing had happened.

"I'm sorry," Annabeth told them. "I—I should get back. I'll keep in touch."

"Listen, Annabeth—" Percy started.

Then Argus honked his horn down at the road.

"You'd better get going," Annabeth said. "Take care, Seaweed Brain."

She jogged down the hill, not looking back.

Naomi managed a smile. "Stay out of trouble, Perce," she said. "As much as you can, anyway."

Percy's eyes were still conflicted, but he mustered a smile as well. He pulled her into a hug, and she tried to commit his warmth to memory. "You too, Nay."

And then he was gone for the school year.

Two days later, Naomi almost beheaded Nico in the Demeter cabin.

It wasn't her fault, really—that's what he got for sneaking up on a girl who'd just fought a battle and traveled through the horrors of the Labyrinth. That kind of stuff made a girl understandably jumpy.

"Che due palle!" he shouted in surprise, holding his hands up in surrender. "Gods, are you trying to kill me?"

"You can't just sneak up on people like that!" Naomi said, lowering Hemlock. "What're you doing here?"

"I can't visit?" Nico muttered, poking at one of the aloe vera plants on the windowsill.

Naomi batted his hand away before the succulent could commit suicide due to the son of Hades's presence. "You can but you won't," she said. "So why did you come?"

"Figured something out," he said. "I'm gonna go see Percy. Wanna come?"

Naomi sighed. "Sure, why not." She willed Hemlock back into a ring and held out her hand to Nico. "C'mon, I'll get us there."

Nico hesitated. "You're not going to land us in Canada, are you?"

Naomi stared at him, open-mouthed with shock. "Who told you about that?"

"My father," Nico said, his lips tilting up with amusement. "He thought it was funny."

Naomi scowled. "Of course he did. Just give me your hand or I'll send us to Portugal on purpose."

Naomi and Nico landed soundlessly on Percy's fire escape. The boy in question was out there, but he didn't notice them. He was busy staring at a planter box on his fire escape, where Naomi had planted a few flowers last time she came over. They were still at full bloom, touched by the magic of a child of Persephone.

There was a new flower, now, too—a tiny silver plant that sprang out of the soil, glowing in the warm summer night. Naomi wondered where it had come from, and why the sight of it made her feel just a little hollow.

"Nice plant," Nico said.

Percy jumped, putting a hand on his chest.

Naomi laughed, which took a bit more effort than it should have. "Sorry," she said. "We didn't mean to scare you."

"Yeah, well, you did," Percy said, taking a deep breath.

"If I say 'happy birthday,' will you forgive me?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "Depends on if you got me a present."

"My presence is the present," Naomi said.

"Does it come with a receipt?"

Naomi smacked him in the arm. "It's nonrefundable."

"Damn," he said, but he was grinning.

Nico cleared his throat, reminding the two that he was still just standing there, awkwardly.

Percy coughed, looking away from Naomi to look at Nico. "I'm guessing you guys didn't just come to say happy birthday?"

"I've done some exploring," Nico said. "Thought you'd like to know that Daedalus got his punishment."

"You saw him?" Percy asked.

Nico nodded. "Minos wanted to boil him in cheese fondue for an eternity, but my father had other ideas. Daedalus will be building overpasses and exit ramps in Asphodel for all time. It'll help ease the traffic congestion. Truthfully, I think the old guy is pretty happy with that. He's still building. Still creating. And he gets to see his son and Perdix on the weekends."

"That's good."

Nico tapped at his silver ring. "But that's not the real reason I've come. I've found out some things. I want to make you an offer."

"What?"

"A way to beat Luke," he said. "If I'm right, it's the only way you'll stand a chance."

Percy took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm listening."

Nico glanced inside his room. His eyebrows furrowed. "Is that... is that blue birthday cake?"

He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. Naomi wondered if Nico had ever had a birthday party, or if he'd ever even been invited to one.

"Come inside for cake and ice cream," Percy said. "It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about."

Notes:

END OF ACT FOUR

Chapter 90: INTERLUDE: christmas in the underworld

Summary:

(from The Demigod Files: The Sword of Hades)

Chapter Text

WHEN NAOMI'S MOTHER INVITED HER to spend Christmas in the Underworld, this was not what she had hoped for.

It started out pretty okay, all things considered. Naomi popped into the Underworld with her fancy new shadow-travel powers (she was finally getting the hang of it, thankfully—no more surprise visits to foreign countries), landing in her mother's garden.

Skia found her instantly, probably already waiting for her. Naomi braced herself as the hellhound all but tackled her, licking her face and wagging her tail so hard her whole body shook.

"Hey, girl," she said with a grin. "I missed you too! How've you been?"

Skia barked, the sound echoing distinctly in the Underworld. In the distance, Naomi swore she heard Cerberus bark a response. Naomi made a mental note to visit the old three-headed beast while she was down here.

"You seen my mom?" Naomi asked Skia, brushing a hand through her thick fur. The beast just wagged her tail harder in lieu of a response.

Naomi smiled. "Mom?" she called. "Are you out here?"

No answer.

"Mo—"

A chorus of unexpected screaming cut her off.

Naomi whirled around, seeing probably the last three people she was expecting—Percy, Thalia, and Nico, standing in her mother's garden, screaming.

(Okay, so maybe Nico being in the Underworld was understandable. The other two, though...)

"Uh... hi?" Naomi said, more question than greeting.

They stopped screaming.

"Nay!" Percy ran at her, pulling her off her feet in a hug.

Naomi returned the hug with a smile—she hadn't seen him since his birthday, which was months ago. She'd missed him.

When he set her back down on her feet, Thalia hugged her as well. Nico just nodded like the antisocial dork he was determined to be.

"You know where we are, Nay?" Thalia asked. Her weapon was understandably at the ready given the strange circumstances.

Naomi frowned. "My mom's garden," she answered. "I came down here to spend Christmas with her. What're you guys doing here?"

"We fell in," Percy said. "Literally, like the ground split and we fell and—now we're here."

Naomi blinked. "That's... weird."

"Heads up," Thalia warned.

Naomi looked and found her friend aiming an arrow at her mother.

"Thalia!" Naomi squeaked. "Please don't shoot my mother."

Thalia lowered her bow. "Oh. My bad."

Naomi's mother stepped forward. "I am Persephone," she said, her voice thin and papery, the way it often was in the dead of winter. "Welcome, demigods."

Nico squashed a pomegranate under his boot. "Welcome? After last time, you've got the nerve to welcome me?"

Percy shifted uneasily. "Um, Nico—"

"It's all right," Persephone said coldly. "We had a little family spat."

"Family spat?" Nico cried. "You turned me into a dandelion!"

Naomi frowned at her mother. "You turned him into a dandelion?"

Persephone sighed. "It's a long story. As I was saying, demigods, I welcome you to my garden."

"You sent the golden deer?" Thalia asked

"And the shadow that collected Nico," the goddess admitted. "And Mrs. O'Leary."

Percy looked at Naomi. "How'd you end up here?"

"I was invited," she answered. "I thought we were just going to have a nice family Christmas."

"We will dear, I promise," Persephone said, smiling gently at her daughter. "After this."

"After what?"

Persephone looked back at the group. "Lord Hades has a problem," she said. "And if you know what's good for you, you will help him."

They sat on a dark veranda overlooking the garden. Persephone's handmaidens brought food and drink, which none of the demigods touched.

Naomi's mother sat on a silver throne and studied them. "If this were spring, I would be able to greet you properly in the world above. Alas, in winter, this is the best I can do."

She turned toward Percy, her eyes sharp like she was reading his mind. Naomi wondered what she'd heard. "Hades is my husband and master, young one. I would do anything for him. But in this case I need your help, and quickly. It concerns Lord Hades's sword."

Nico frowned. "My father doesn't have a sword. He uses a staff in battle, and his helm of terror."

"He didn't have a sword," Persephone corrected.

Thalia sat up. "He's forging a new symbol of power? Without Zeus's permission?"

The goddess of springtime pointed. Above the table, an image flickered to life: skeletal weapon-smiths worked over a forge of black flames, using hammers fashioned like metal skulls to beat a length of iron into a blade.

"War with the Titans is almost upon us," Persephone said. "My lord Hades must be ready."

"But Zeus and Poseidon would never allow Hades to forge a new weapon!" Thalia protested. "It would unbalance their power-sharing agreement."

Persephone shook her head. "You mean it would make Hades their equal? Believe me, daughter of Zeus, the Lord of the Dead has no designs against his brothers. He knew they would never understand, however, which is why he forged the blade in secret."

The image over the table shimmered. A zombie weapon-smith raised the blade, still glowing hot. Something strange was set in the base—not a gem. More like...

"Is that a key?" Percy asked.

Nico made a choking sound. "The keys of Hades?"

"Wait," Thalia said. "What are the keys of Hades?"

Nico's face was even paler than Persephone's. "Hades has a set of golden keys that can lock or unlock death. At least... that's the legend."

"It is true," Persephone said.

"How do you lock and unlock death?" Percy asked.

"The keys have the power to imprison a soul in the Underworld," Persephone said. "Or to release it."

Nico swallowed. "If one of those keys has been set in the sword—"

"The wielder can raise the dead," Persephone said, "or slay any living thing and send its soul to the Underworld with a mere touch of the blade."

Everyone went silent. The shadow fountain gurgled in the corner.

"That's a wicked sword," Percy said at last.

"It would make Hades unstoppable," Thalia agreed.

"So you see," Persephone said, "why you must help get it back."

Naomi stared at her mother. "You... you lost it?"

"I did not lose it," Persephone corrected. "The blade was stolen when it was almost finished. I do not know how, but I suspect a demigod, some servant of Kronos. If the blade falls into the Titan lord's hands—"

Thalia shot to her feet. "You allowed the blade to be stolen! How stupid was that? Kronos probably has it by now!"

Thalia's arrows sprouted into long-stemmed roses. Her bow melted into a honeysuckle vine dotted with white and gold flowers.

"Take care, huntress," Persephone warned. "Your father may be Zeus, and you may be the lieutenant of Artemis, but you do not speak to me with disrespect in my own palace."

Thalia ground her teeth. "Give me back my bow."

Persephone waved her hand. The bow and arrows changed back to normal. "Now, sit and listen. The sword could not have left the Underworld yet. Lord Hades used his remaining keys to shut down the realm. Nothing gets in or out until he finds the sword, and he is using all his power to locate the thief."

Thalia sat down reluctantly. "Then what do you need us for?"

"The search for the blade cannot be common knowledge," Naomi's mother said. "We have locked the realm, but we have not announced why, nor can Hades's servants be used for the search. They must not know the blade exists until it is finished. Certainly they can't know it is missing."

"If they thought Hades was in trouble, they might desert him," Nico guessed. "And join the Titans."

Persephone didn't answer, but she looked nervous enough to tell Naomi she feared just that. "The thief must be a demigod. No immortal can steal another immortal's weapon directly. Even Kronos must abide by that Ancient Law. He has a champion down here somewhere. And to catch a demigod... we shall use four."

"Why us?" Percy asked.

"You three are children of the three major gods," Persephone said. "And, for better or worse, my daughter trusts you. None could withstand your combined power. Besides, when you restore the sword to Hades, you will send a message to Olympus. Zeus and Poseidon will not protest against Hades's new weapon if it is given to him by their own children. It will show that you trust Hades."

"But I don't trust him," Thalia said.

"Ditto," Percy said. "Why should we do anything for Hades, much less give him a super-weapon? Right, Nico?"

Nico stared at the table. His fingers tapped on his black Stygian blade.

"Right, Nico?" Percy prompted.

Nico hesitated. "I have to do this, Percy. He's my father."

Percy looked at Naomi, who immediately looked away. "Oh, come on, not you, too."

Naomi gestured toward Persephone. "It's my mom, Percy. What am I supposed to do, say no?"

"Yes!"

"You two can't believe this is a good idea!" Thalia protested.

"Would you rather have the sword in Kronos's hands?" Nico asked.

Naomi pointed at him. "He's got a point."

"Time is wasting," her mother said. "The thief may have accomplices in the Underworld, and he will be looking for a way out."

Percy frowned. "I thought you said the realm was locked."

"No prison is airtight, not even the Underworld. Souls are always finding new ways out faster than Hades can close them. You must retrieve the sword before it leaves our realm, or all is lost."

"Even if we wanted to," Thalia said, "how would we find this thief?"

A potted plant appeared on the table: a sickly yellow carnation with a few green leaves. The flower listed sideways, as if it were trying to find the sun.

"This will guide you," Persephone said.

"A magic carnation?" Percy asked.

"The flower always faces the thief. As your prey gets closer to escaping, the petals will fall off."

Right on cue, a yellow petal turned gray and fluttered to the ground.

"If all the petals fall off," Persephone said, "the flower dies. This means the thief has reached an exit and you have failed."

Percy looked at his companions, then back at the goddess. "One condition," he said. "Hades will have to swear on the River Styx that he will never use this sword against the gods."

Persephone shrugged. "I am not Lord Hades, but I am confident he would do this—as payment for your help."

Another petal fell off the carnation.

Naomi looked at her friends. "I'll hold the flower while you guys beat up the thief?"

Thalia sighed. "Fine. Let's go catch this jerk."

Naomi was disappointed by how un-Christmasy the Underworld looked. As they made their way down the palace road into the Fields of Asphodel, it looked the same as Naomi remembered it—depressing as... well, Hades. Yellow grass and stunted black poplar trees rolled on forever. Shades drifted aimlessly across the hills, coming from nowhere and going nowhere, chattering to each other and trying to remember who they were in life. High above, the cavern ceiling glistened darkly.

Naomi hugged the carnation to her chest, wishing she could bring it back to life. It just looked so sad, wilting and drooping like this.

Nico led the way since his blade could clear a path through any crowd of undead. Thalia walked next to Naomi and grumbled that she should've known better than to go on a quest with a couple of boys.

"Hey, Nay," Percy said as they walked, "is your mom always that..."

"Uptight?" Naomi suggested.

Percy held up his hands. "You said it, not me."

Naomi sighed. "She's always been nice to me, but I mean—she is my mom. I don't know what her problem is now."

Nico waded through a mob of ghosts, driving them back with Stygian iron. "She always acts that way when I'm around," he muttered. "She hates me."

"Then why did she include you in the quest?" Percy asked.

"Probably my dad's idea." He sounded like he wanted that to be true, but Naomi wasn't so sure.

It was a bit weird that her mom gave them the quest instead of Hades himself. If the sword was this important to him, why had he let Persephone explain things? Usually the god of the dead liked to threaten demigods in person.

Nico forged ahead. No matter how crowded the fields were, the spirits parted before him.

"He's handy with zombie crowds," Thalia admitted. "Think I'll take him along next time I go to the mall."

She gripped her bow tight, like she was afraid it would turn into a honeysuckle vine again. She didn't look any older than she had last year, and it occurred to Naomi that she would never age again now that she was a huntress. Which meant Naomi was older than her. Weird.

"So," Percy said casually, "how's immortality treating you?"

Thalia rolled her eyes. "It's not total immortality, Percy. You know that. We can still die in combat. It's just... we don't ever age or get sick, so we live forever, assuming we don't get sliced to pieces by monsters."

"Always a danger."

"Always." Thalia looked around, and Naomi realized she was scanning the faces of the dead.

"If you're looking for Bianca," Naomi said quietly, so Nico wouldn't overhear, "she'd be in Elysium. She died a hero's death."

"I know that," Thalia snapped. Then she caught herself. "It's not that, Naomi. I was just... never mind."

A cold feeling washed over Naomi. She remembered that Thalia's mother had died in a car crash a few years ago. They'd never been close, but Thalia had never gotten a chance to say goodbye. If her mother's shade was wandering around down here—no wonder Thalia looked so jumpy.

"I'm sorry," Naomi said. "I wasn't thinking."

Their eyes met, and Naomi got the feeling Thalia understood. Her expression softened. "It's okay. Let's just get this over with."

Another petal fell off the carnation as they marched on.

None of them were particularly thrilled when the flower pointed them toward the Fields of Punishment. Naomi was kind of hoping it would lead them into Elysium so they could hang out with a bunch of heroes and party, but nooo. The flower seemed to like the harshest, evilest part of the Underworld.

They jumped over a lava stream and picked their way past scenes of horrible torture.

The carnation tilted its face toward a hill on their left.

"Up there," Naomi said.

Percy, Thalia, and Nico stopped. They were covered with soot from trudging through Punishment—Naomi doubted she looked much better.

A loud grinding noise came from the other side of the hill, like somebody was dragging a washing machine. Then the hill shook with a BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! and a man yelled some very creative curses.

Thalia looked at Nico. "Is that who I think it is?"

"Afraid so," Nico said. "The number-one expert on cheating death."

The guy on the other side of the hill wasn't pretty, nor did he look very happy. He looked a little like a troll doll, with his scrawny limbs, pot belly, and loincloth. His ratty hair stuck up like a torch. He was hopping around, cursing and kicking a boulder that was twice as big as he was.

"I won't!" he screamed. "No, no, no!" Then he launched into a string of swear words in several different languages.

He started to walk away from the boulder, but after ten feet he lurched backwards, like some invisible force had pulled him. He staggered back to the boulder and started banging his head against it.

"All right!" he screamed. "All right, curse you!"

He rubbed his head and muttered some more swear words. "But this is the last time. Do you hear me?"

Nico looked at his companions. "Come on. While he's between attempts."

They scrambled down the hill.

"Sisyphus!" Nico called.

The troll guy looked up in surprise. Then he scrambled behind his rock. "Oh, no! You're not fooling me with those disguises! I know you're the Furies!"

"We're not the Furies," Percy said. "We just want to talk."

"Go away!' Sisyphus shrieked. "Flowers won't make it better. It's too late to apologize!"

"Look," Thalia said, "we just want—"

"La-la-la!" he yelled. "I'm not listening!"

They played an annoying game of tag around the boulder until finally Thalia—the quickest of them—caught the old man by his hair.

"Stop it!" he wailed. "I have rocks to move. Rocks to move!"

"I'll move your rock!" Thalia offered. "Just shut up and talk to my friends."

Sisyphus stopped fighting. "You'll—you'll move my rock?"

"It's better than looking at you." Thalia glanced at her friends. "Be quick about it." Then she shoved Sisyphus toward them.

She put her shoulder against the rock and started pushing it very slowly uphill.

Sisyphus scowled at Percy distrustfully. He pinched his nose.

"Ow!" Percy said.

"So you're really not a Fury," the old man said in amazement. He looked at the carnation in Naomi's hand, making her hug it closer to herself. "What's the flower for?"

"We're looking for someone," Naomi said. "The flower is helping us find him."

"Persephone!" He spat in the dust. "That's one of her tracking devices, isn't it?" He leaned forward, and Naomi caught an unpleasant whiff of old-guy-who's-been-rolling-a-rock-for-eternity. "I fooled her once, you know. I fooled them all."

Percy looked at Nico. "Translation?"

"Sisyphus cheated death," Nico explained. "First he chained up Thanatos, the reaper of souls, so no one could die. Then when Thanatos got free and was about to kill him, Sisyphus told his wife not to do the correct funeral rites so he couldn't rest in peace. Sisy here—may I call you Sisy?"

"No!"

"Sisy tricked Persephone into letting him go back to the world to haunt his wife. And he didn't come back."

The old man cackled. "I stayed alive another thirty years before they finally tracked me down!"

Thalia was halfway up the hill now. She gritted her teeth, pushing the boulder with her back. Her expression said, Hurry up!

"So that was your punishment," Percy said to Sisyphus. "Rolling a boulder up a hill forever. Was it worth it?"

"A temporary setback!" Sisyphus cried. "I'll bust out of here soon, and when I do they'll all be sorry!"

"How would you get out of the Underworld?" Nico asked. "It's locked down, you know."

Sisyphus grinned wickedly. "That's what the other one asked."

Naomi's stomach twisted. "Someone else asked your advice?"

"An angry young man," Sisyphus recalled. "Not very polite. Held a sword to my throat. Didn't offer to roll my boulder at all."

"What did you tell him?" Nico said. "Who was he?"

Sisyphus massaged his shoulders. He glanced up at Thalia, who was almost at the top of the hill. Her face was bright red and drenched in sweat.

"Oh... it's hard to say," Sisyphus said. "Never seen him before. He carried a long package all wrapped up in black cloth. Skis, maybe? A shovel? Maybe if you wait here, I could go look for him..."

"What did you tell him?" Percy demanded.

"Can't remember."

Nico drew his sword. The Stygian iron was so cold it steamed in the hot, dry air of Punishment. "Try harder."

The old man winced. "What kind of person carries a sword like that?"

Naomi summoned Asphodel in her free hand. "Someone who prefers a straight answer. Now talk."

The color drained from Sisyphus's face. "I told him to talk to Melinoe! She always has a way out!"

Nico lowered his sword. Naomi recognized the name—Melinoe was a goddess, a daughter of Hades and Persephone. She just couldn't quite remember what she was the goddess of. She'd never even met her.

"All right," Nico said. "What did this demigod look like?"

"Um... he had a nose," Sisyphus said. "A mouth. And one eye and—"

Naomi's heart dropped into her stomach. "One eye?" she asked. "Did he have an eye patch?"

"Oh... maybe," Sisyphus said. "He had hair on his head. And—" He gasped and looked behind them. "There he is!"

Naomi was ashamed to admit—they fell for it.

As soon as they turned, Sisyphus took off. "I'm free! I'm free! I'm—ACK!" Ten feet from the hill, he hit the end of his invisible leash and fell on his back.

Nico and Percy grabbed his arms and hauled him back up the hill.

"Curse you!" He let loose with bad words in Ancient Greek, Latin, English, French and several other languages Naomi didn't recognize. "I'll never help you! Go to Hades!"

"Already there," Nico muttered.

"Incoming!" Thalia shouted.

Naomi looked up and might have used a few swear words herself. The boulder was bouncing straight toward them. Nico jumped one way. Percy and Naomi dove the other. Sisyphus yelled, "NOOOOOOO!" as the thing plowed into him. Somehow he braced himself and stopped it before it could run him over. Naomi guessed he'd had a lot of practice.

"Take it again!" he wailed. "Please. I can't hold it."

"Not again," Thalia gasped. "You're on your own."

He treated the four demigods to a lot more colorful language. It was clear he wasn't going to help them any further, so they left him to his punishment.

"Melinoe's cave is this way," Nico said.

Naomi gripped the vase so hard she thought it might crack. "Ethan's the thief."

Thalia raised an eyebrow. "Who's Ethan?"

"Son of Nemesis," Percy muttered, his jaw tense. "Freed Kronos, tried to kill Naomi."

"Sounds like a nice guy," Thalia said sarcastically.

"If we're dealing with Melinoe, we've got bigger problems," Nico said. "Come on."

They walked for what felt like forever. Three more petals withered from the carnation, which meant it was now officially half-dead. The flower pointed toward a range of jagged gray hills that looked like teeth, so they trudged in that direction over a plain of volcanic rock.

"Nice day for a stroll," Thalia muttered. "The Hunters are probably feasting in some forest glade right about now."

Naomi understood the annoyance in her voice—Naomi had come to the Underworld expecting a nice holiday with her distant mother, not a quest to find her scary stepdad's even scarier sword.

"So who is this Melinoe?" Percy asked as they walked.

"Our half-sister," Naomi said. "She's a goddess of... something. I don't know, we've never met."

"Probably for the best," Nico muttered. "I've only heard bad things about her."

Before Naomi could ask what bad things he'd heard, Thalia dropped into a crouch. "Weapons!"

Naomi drew Asphodel, setting the carnation down so she could summon Hemlock as well. Nico and Percy drew their own swords as Thalia notched an arrow.

"What is it?" Percy whispered.

Thalia seemed to be listening. Then her eyes widened. A ring of a dozen daemons materialized around them.

They were part humanoid female, part bat. Their faces were pug-nosed and furry, with fangs and bulging eyes. Matted gray fur and piecemeal armor covered their bodies. They had shriveled arms with claws for hands, leathery wings that sprouted from their backs and stubby bowed legs. They would've looked funny except for the murderous glow in their eyes.

"Keres," Nico said.

"What?" Percy asked.

"Battlefield spirits. They feed on violent death."

"Oh, wonderful," Thalia said.

"Get back!" Nico ordered the daemons. "The son of Hades commands you!"

The Keres hissed. Their mouths foamed. They glanced apprehensively at their weapons, but Naomi got the feeling the Keres weren't impressed by Nico's command.

"Soon Hades will be defeated," one of them snarled. "Our new master shall give us free rein!"

Nico blinked. "New master?"

The lead daemon lunged. Nico was so surprised it might have slashed him to bits, but Thalia shot an arrow point-blank into its ugly bat face, and the creature disintegrated.

The rest of them charged. Naomi slashed and blocked with her swords, but no matter how many daemons they took out, more just kept coming.

"Iapetus shall crush you!" one shouted.

"Who?" Percy asked. Then he ran her through with his sword before she could answer.

Nico was also cutting an arc through the Keres. His Stygian iron blade absorbed their essence like a vacuum cleaner, and the more he destroyed, the older the air became around him. Thalia flipped a daemon on its back, stabbed it, and impaled another one with her second knife without even turning around.

"Die in pain, mortal!" Naomi spun around in time to see a daemon's claws rake Percy's shoulder, talons slicing my shirt open and tearing into his skin.

Naomi leapt at the daemon and stabbed through it with Asphodel, its essence seeping into the black blade. She dropped it as Percy collapsed and curled into a ball.

"Percy!" She knelt down next to him, trying to assess the damage to his arm. She wasn't very well-versed in healing, but anyone could tell the wound was bad.

"Hold still, Percy," Thalia said. "You'll be fine." The quiver in her voice wasn't convincing.

Percy yelled in pain as Nico touched the wound, his hand grasping for an anchor and ending up around Naomi's wrist.

"Nectar," Nico said. "I'm pouring nectar on it."

He uncorked the bottle of the godly drink and trickled it across Percy's shoulder. It was dangerous, but necessary. Thalia dug a roll of gauze out of her pack and she and Naomi dressed the wound.

Percy passed out four times.

Eventually, they got him propped up against a rock, and Naomi fed him tiny squares of ambrosia once his eyelids fluttered open and stayed open.

"The Keres?" he muttered.

"Gone for now," Thalia said. "You had me worried for a second, Percy, but I think you'll make it."

Nico crouched next to them, holding the potted carnation. Only five petals still clung to the flower, and unfortunately, it wasn't because of Nico's death-ness—it was because the thief was getting closer to escaping.

Ethan was getting closer to escaping.

"The Keres will be back," Nico warned. He looked at Percy's shoulder with concern. "That wound... the Keres are spirits of disease and pestilence as well as violence. We can slow down the infection, but eventually you'll need serious healing. I mean, a god's power. Otherwise..."

He didn't finish that thought.

"I'll be fine." Percy tried to sit up and almost instantly faltered.

"Slow down," Naomi said. "You need to rest before you can move."

"There's no time." Percy looked at the carnation. "One of the daemons mentioned Iapetus. Am I remembering right? That's a Titan?"

Thalia nodded uneasily. "The brother of Kronos, father of Atlas. He was known as the Titan of the west. His name means 'the Piercer' because that's what he likes to do to his enemies. He was cast into Tartarus along with his brothers. He's supposed to still be down there."

"But if the sword of Hades can unlock death?" Percy asked.

"Then maybe," Nico said, "it can also summon the damned out of Tartarus. We can't let them try."

"We still don't know who them is," Thalia said.

"The half-blood working for Kronos," Percy said. "Ethan Nakamura. And he's starting to recruit some of Hades's minions to his side—like the Keres. The daemons think that if Kronos wins the war, they'll get more chaos and evil out of the deal."

"They're probably right," Nico said. "My father tries to keep a balance. He reins in the more violent spirits. If Kronos appoints one of his brothers to be the lord of the Underworld—"

"Like Iapetus," Naomi said.

"—then the Underworld will get a lot worse," Nico said. "The Keres would like that. So would Melinoe."

"You still haven't told us who Melinoe is," Percy said.

Nico chewed his lip. "She's the goddess of ghosts—one of my father's servants. She oversees the restless dead that walk the earth. Every night she rises from the Underworld to terrify mortals."

"She has her own path into the upper world?" Percy asked.

Nico nodded. "I doubt it would be blocked. Normally, no one would even think about trespassing in her cave. But if this demigod thief is brave enough to make a deal with her—"

"He could get back to the world," Thalia supplied. "And take the sword to Kronos."

"Who would use it to raise his brothers from Tartarus," Percy guessed.

Naomi sighed. "And that would be really, really bad."

Percy struggled to his feet. He wavered a moment, and Thalia grabbed him before he could fall back down.

"Percy," she said, "you're in no condition—"

"I have to be," Percy said. As if to drive the point home, another petal withered and fell off the carnation. Four left before failure and the end of the world. "Give me the potted plant. We have to find the cave of Melinoe."

After a lot of walking, they reached the River of Forgetting.

It was narrow and fast, the water as black as ink. Even the foam churned black. The far bank was only thirty feet across, but it was too far to jump, and there was no bridge.

"The River Lethe." Nico cursed in Ancient Greek. "We'll never make it across."

The flower was pointing to the other side—toward a gloomy mountain and a path leading up to a cave. Beyond the mountain, the walls of the Underworld loomed like a dark granite sky.

"There's got to be a way across," Percy said.

Thalia knelt next to the bank.

"Careful!" Nico warned. "This is the River of Forgetfulness. If one drop of that water gets on you, you'll start to forget who you are."

Thalia backed up. "I know this place. Luke told me about it once. Souls come here if they choose to be reborn, so they totally forget their former lives."

Nico nodded. "Swim in that water and your mind will be wiped clean. You'll be like a newborn baby."

Thalia studied the opposite bank. "I could shoot an arrow across, maybe anchor a line to one of those rocks."

"You want to trust your weight to a line that isn't tied off ?" Nico asked.

Thalia frowned. "You're right. Works in the movies, but... no. Could you summon some dead people to help us?"

"I could, but they would only appear on my side of the river. Running water acts as a barrier against the dead. They can't cross it."

Percy winced. "What kind of stupid rule is that?"

"Hey, I didn't make it up," Nico said defensively.

Percy looked at Naomi. "What about that shadow-teleport stuff you can do?" he asked. "You've been practicing, right?"

It was Naomi's turn to wince. "That's part of why I came down here—to get a better handle on it."

"Wait, shadow teleportation?" Thalia asked, instantly intrigued. "What's that?"

"It's basically stepping into one shadow and appearing out of another in a different location," Naomi said.

Thalia blinked. "That's perfect, then. We can just pop over to the other side, there's plenty of shadows."

Naomi hesitated. "I don't know. I'm still new, and I've only ever taken one passenger before. Four people, with a river of water that can wipe your memory... it's probably not a good idea to risk it."

Nico snorted. "Yeah. Naomi accidentally landed in Canada all by herself—who knows where she'd get us this time."

Naomi scowled at him. "I'll get my mom to turn you back into a weed." Then she noticed how pale Percy had become. "Hey, Perce, you should sit down."

"I can't," he said. "You need me for this."

"For what?" Thalia asked. "You can barely stand."

"It's water, isn't it? I'll have to control it. Maybe I can redirect the flow long enough to get us across."

"In your condition?" Nico said. "No way. I'd feel safer with the arrow idea or Naomi's wonky shadow-travel."

"It's not wonky, I just need to prac—Perseus Jackson, what are you doing?"

Percy staggered to the edge of the river despite her protests. "Stand back."

The water started to churn and bubble more violently. Percy raised his arms, and the river rose. It surged out of its banks, flowing up and then down again in a great arc—a raging black rainbow of water twenty feet high. The riverbed in front of them turned to drying mud, a tunnel under the river just wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

Naomi, Thalia, and Nico stared at him in amazement.

"Go," he said. "I can't hold this for long."

The three of them scrambled into the riverbed and made their way across the sticky mud. Thalia reached the opposite bank first, helping Naomi and Nico up after her.

"Come on, Percy!" she said. "Walk!"

Percy's arms were shaking. He took a step forward and almost fell. The water arc quivered.

"I can't make it," he called.

"Yes, you can!" Naomi said. "We need you!"

He managed to climb down into the riverbed. One step, then another. The water surged about him.

Halfway across, he stumbled.

"No!" Naomi screamed. She tried to scramble to her feet, her only thought Percy. Thalia clamped an arm around her waist to stop her, to hold her back from the river. Naomi fought, but Thalia could probably bench-press her with ease, so it was no use.

Then Percy climbed out of the River Lethe, dry as ever. He staggered forward and collapsed, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Percy was only out for about ten minutes, but it was ten minutes too long for Naomi's sanity.

Her lap was currently employed as a pillow as she brushed some of his hair off of his forehead, frowning at his pallor. When she looked up, Thalia was watching her.

Naomi's face felt warm. "Don't look at me like that," she muttered.

"I'm not looking at you like anything," Thalia said, which was a bald-faced lie. Naomi could see the amusement in her eyes.

"Just give him the nectar," Nico said with an annoyed sigh.

Thalia snorted, but her expression turned serious once more as she trickled just a little into Percy's mouth. "We can't risk any more nectar," she said. "He'll burst into flames."

"Percy," Nico said. "Can you hear me?"

"Flames," he murmured. "Got it."

Naomi helped him sit up, and after a moment, he was able to stand.

"We're close," Nico said. "Can you walk?"

The mountain loomed above them. A dusty trail snaked up a hundred meters or so to the mouth of a cave. The path was lined with human bones, naturally.

"Ready," Percy said.

"I don't like this," Thalia murmured.

Naomi hugged the carnation closer to herself. It was undoubtedly pointing toward the cave, with only two petals left.

"A creepy cave," Percy said. "The goddess of ghosts. What's not to like?"

As if in response, a hissing sound echoed down the mountain. White mist billowed from the cave like someone had turned on a dry-ice machine.

In the fog, an image appeared—a tall woman with disheveled blond hair. She wore a pink bathrobe and had a wineglass in her hand. Her face was stern and disapproving. She was translucent, but her voice sounded real enough.

"Now you come back," she growled. "Well, it's too late!"

Percy looked at Nico and whispered, "Melinoe?"

Nico didn't answer. He stood frozen, staring at the spirit.

Thalia lowered her bow. "Mother?" Her eyes teared up. Suddenly she looked about seven years old.

The spirit threw down her wineglass. It shattered and dissolved into the fog. It was made of mist and not even aimed at Naomi, but she still flinched. "That's right, girl. Doomed to walk the earth, and it's your fault! Where were you when I died? Why did you run away when I needed you?"

"I—I—"

"Thalia," Percy said. "It's just a shade. It can't hurt you. "

"I'm more than that," the spirit growled. "And Thalia knows it."

"But—you abandoned me," Thalia said.

"You wretched girl! Ungrateful runaway!"

"Leave her alone!" Naomi demanded, drawing Asphodel. But then the spirit turned to face her, and she was eight years old again, a little girl cowering in a dimly lit kitchen.

"Look at you," Mr. Bowry sneered, voice slurred. He was always meaner when it sounded like that. "Still causing trouble. We never should have taken you in. I'd still be alive if we hadn't."

"I—" A child's fear stole her voice.

"You might as well have killed me yourself. That mutt of yours tore into me like I was a chew toy. Did I really deserve that?"

Yes, she wanted to say, but she couldn't get the word out. He'd hurt her; he'd beaten her for the smallest things, made her feel like she was nothing, like she was worthless. He'd scarred her skin and scarred her memory.

He took one step forward, and Naomi flinched back so hard she dropped her sword. Her back hit something solid, but she could barely register it through her terror.

"Naomi, he's not really here." Percy's voice was distant, like it was coming from a mile away. "He's dead. He can't hurt you anymore."

Mr. Bowry laughed—that booming explosion of a laugh, one he only used when Naomi was well and truly terrified. "I can't?"

"Stop!" Nico stepped forward with his sword drawn, but the spirit turned toward him, too.

Nico stopped in his tracks. "No..."

"My son," the ghost said. "I died when you were so young. I haunt the world in grief, wondering about you and your sister."

"Mama?"

"No, it's my mother," Thalia murmured.

But all Naomi saw was Mr. Bowry. Distantly, she registered the fog beginning to thicken around her feet, twining around her legs like vines, but it felt like it was happening to someone else. She wasn't Naomi Sakura anymore—she was Naomi Murphy again, an orphan stuck in Mr. Bowry's house, reeling between his cruelty and his wife's dotting, never sure which would find her next.

"Enough," Percy said, still sounding distant. "You're no one's parent!"

Mr. Bowry turned toward Percy. "Where are your ghosts?" he demanded in that sneering, irritated tone that promised a bruise the next day.

"My... I don't know. I don't have any."

He snarled, and Naomi flinched again. "Everyone has ghosts—deaths you regret. Guilt. Fear. Why can I not see yours?"

"I've made my peace with them," Percy said. "They've passed on. They're not ghosts. Now let my friends go!"

He slashed through Mr. Bowry with his sword. He backed up quickly, growling in frustration. His appearance flickered, and like a candle being blown out, Naomi saw the truth—a goddess who was half pale, chalky white and half pitch black, her eyes empty black voids.

Not Thalia's mother. Not Nico's.

Not Mr. Bowry.

"What was that?" Thalia said. "Where—"

"It was a trick," Nico said. "She fooled us."

Naomi shuddered. "Some trick."

"You are too late, demigods," the goddess Melinoe said. Another petal fell off of the carnation, leaving only one. "The deal has been struck."

"What deal?" Percy demanded.

Melinoe made a hissing sound, and Naomi realized it was her attempt at a laugh. "So many ghosts, my young demigod. They long to be unleashed. When Kronos rules the world, I shall be free to walk among mortals both night and day, sowing terror as they deserve."

"Where's the sword of Hades?" Percy demanded. "Where's Ethan?"

"Close," Melinoe promised. "I will not stop you. I will not need to. Soon, Percy Jackson, you will have many ghosts. And you will remember me."

Thalia notched an arrow and aimed it at the goddess. "If you open a path to the world, do you really think Kronos will reward you? He'll cast you into Tartarus along with the rest of Hades's servants."

Melinoe bared her teeth. "Your mother was right, Thalia. You are an angry girl. Good at running away. Not much else."

The arrow flew, but as it touched Melinoe she dissolved into fog, leaving nothing but the hiss of her laughter. Thalia's arrow hit the rocks and shattered harmlessly.

"Stupid ghost," she muttered.

Naomi bent down, picking up her sword. She cradled the carnation in her other arm, trying to ignore how the single remaining petal trembled with her.

"The thief..." Nico managed. "Probably in the cave. We have to stop him before—"

Just then, the last petal fell off the carnation. The flower turned black and wilted.

"Too late," Percy said.

A man's laugh echoed down the mountain.

"You're right about that," a voice boomed. At the mouth of the cave stood two people—Ethan with his eye patch, and ten-foot-tall man in a tattered prison jumpsuit. In Ethan's hands was an unfinished sword—a double-edged blade of black Stygian iron with skeletal designs etched in silver. It had no hilt, but set in the base of the blade was a golden key, just like they'd seen in Persephone's image.

The giant man next to him had eyes of pure silver. His face was covered with a scraggly beard and his gray hair stuck out wildly. He looked thin and haggard in his ripped prison clothes, as though he'd spent the last few thousand years at the bottom of a pit, but even in this weakened state he looked plenty scary. He held out his hand and a giant spear appeared.

Naomi remembered what Thalia had said about Iapetus: His name means "the Piercer" because that's what he likes to do to his enemies.

The Titan smiled cruelly. "And now I will destroy you."

"Master!" Ethan interrupted. He was dressed in combat fatigues with a backpack slung over his shoulder. His eye patch was crooked, his face smeared with soot and sweat. "We have the sword. We should—"

"Yes, yes," the Titan said impatiently. "You've done well, Nawaka."

"It's Nakamura, master."

"Whatever. I'm sure my brother Kronos will reward you. But now we have killing to attend to."

"My lord," Ethan persisted, glancing at Naomi and then back to the Titan. "You're not at full power. We should ascend and summon your brothers from the upper world. Our orders were to flee."

The Titan whirled on him. "FLEE? Did you say FLEE?"

The ground rumbled. Ethan fell on his butt and scrambled backward. The unfinished sword of Hades clattered to the rocks. "M-m-master, please—"

"IAPETUS DOES NOT FLEE! I have waited three eons to be summoned from the pit. I want revenge, and I will start by killing these weaklings!"

He leveled his spear at Percy and charged.

If the Titan had been at full strength, it was no question that he would've pierced Percy right through the middle. Even weakened and just out of the pit, the guy was fast. He moved like a tornado, slashing so quickly Percy barely had time to dodge the strike before his spear impaled the rock where he'd been standing.

Naomi dropped the dead flower and summoned Hemlock, holding both of her swords at the ready. As Iapetus yanked his spear free and turned to face Percy once more, Thalia shot his flank full of arrows from his shoulders to his knee. He roared and turned on her, looking more angry than hurt.

Ethan tried to draw his own sword, but Nico yelled, "I don't think so!"

The ground erupted in front of Ethan. Three armored skeletons climbed out and engaged Ethan, pushing him back. The sword of Hades still lay on the rocks.

If Naomi could get to it...

Iapetus slashed with his spear and Thalia leaped out of the way. As she dropped her bow to draw her knives, Naomi charged the Titan, swords a-blazing.

Nico and Percy weren't far behind. As Naomi jammed Asphodel through the back of Iapetus's knee, Percy impaled his own sword in the Titan's calf.

"AHHHH!" Golden ichor gushed from the wounds. Iapetus whirled and the shaft of his spear slammed into Percy, sending him flying into the rocks next to the River Lethe.

"YOU DIE FIRST!" Iapetus roared as he hobbled toward Percy. Naomi took a running leap and managed to hook her arm (and Hemlock) around his neck, but he shook her off with an embarrassing amount of ease. Luckily for Naomi's memory, he threw her away from the Lethe, but her ego (and her ass) was going to be bruised for a while.

"I will kill you all!" the Titan declared as Nico and Thalia tried and failed to distract him from Percy. "Then I will cast your souls into the eternal darkness of Tartarus!"

"Been there, done that!" Naomi groaned as she struggled to her feet. "Try something new, buddy!"

"You're—you're even uglier than your son," Percy taunted. "I can see where Atlas got his stupidity from."

Iapetus snarled. He limped forward, raising his spear.

The Titan brought the spear down and Percy lurched sideways. The shaft impaled the ground right next to Percy. He reached up and grabbed Iapetus's shirt collar, using his loss of balance to pull him forward.

The Titan stumbled and fell, grabbing Percy's arms in a panic, and they pitched into the Lethe together.

Naomi let out a strangled gasp as her best friend plunged into the River of Forgetfulness for the second time in an hour. She ran to join Nico and Thalia at the riverbank, and all three of them stared in awe as Percy—completely dry—climbed out of the River, dragging a dripping-wet Iapetus with his good arm. The Titan's pure silver eyes were as big as moons.

Up by the cave, Ethan was just cutting down the last skeleton. He turned and froze when he saw his Titan ally spread-eagled on the ground.

"My—my lord?" he called.

Iapetus sat up and stared at him. Then he looked at Percy and smiled.

"Hello," he said. "Who am I?"

"You're my friend," Percy blurted out. "You're... Bob."

Naomi looked at him and mouthed, Bob?

The Titan, apparently, loved it. "I am your friend Bob!"

Ethan had always known when to cut his losses. He glanced at the sword of Hades lying in the dirt.

Naomi dove into the nearest shadow, instincts guiding her fifteen feet forward, and she landed in a shadow right next to Ethan. She raised Hemlock and lifted it, placing the tip of it to the side of his neck, unprotected by armor.

"Give me one good reason not to kill you now," Naomi said, voice so low she almost didn't hear it.

Ethan's eye met hers. "You won't."

"I should," she said. It hurt how true it felt.

"Yeah," Ethan agreed. "But you won't."

He turned on his heel, and ran straight into the cave of Melinoe.

For the third time, Naomi watched him go.

Her companions joined her, and Nico picked up the sword of Hades reverently. "We did it. We actually did it."

"We did?" Iapetus asked. "Did I help?"

Percy gave him a weak smile. "Yeah, Bob. You were great."

They got an express ride back to the palace of Hades. Nico sent word ahead, thanks to some ghost he'd summoned out of the ground, and within a few minutes the Three Furies themselves arrived to ferry them back. They weren't thrilled about lugging Bob the Titan, too, but Percy didn't have the heart to leave him behind, especially after he noticed Percy's shoulder would, said, "Owie," and healed it with a touch.

When they arrived in the throne room of Hades, the Lord of the Dead sat on his throne, glowering down at them and stroking his black beard like he was contemplating the best torture methods for them. Naomi's mother sat next to him, not saying a word, as Nico explained about their adventure.

Before they gave back the sword, Percy insisted that Hades take an oath not to use it against the gods. His eyes flared like he wanted to incinerate Percy, but he finally made the promise through clenched teeth.

Nico laid the sword at his father's feet and bowed, waiting for a reaction.

Hades looked at his wife. "You defied my direct orders."

Persephone didn't react, even under his piercing gaze.

Hades turned back to Nico. His gaze softened just a little, like rock soft rather than steel. "You will speak of this to no one."

"Yes, lord," Nico agreed.

Hades turned an expectant look to Naomi.

"Uh, yeah," she said dumbly. "I mean, uh, yes... lord."

Hades looked annoyed, but that tended to be his default around Naomi, so she figured she was all good.

The god glared at Percy. "And if your friends do not hold their tongues, I will cut them out."

"You're welcome," Percy said.

Hades stared at the sword. His eyes were full of anger and something else—something like hunger. He snapped his fingers. The Furies fluttered down from the top of his throne.

"Return the blade to the forges," he told them. "Stay with the smiths until it is finished, and then return it to me."

The Furies swirled into the air with the weapon.

"You are wise, my lord," Persephone said.

"If I were wise," he growled, "I would lock you in your chambers. If you ever disobey me again—"

He let the threat hang in the air, then said more gently, "I will see you, Nico, and Naomi at dinner. We're having lamb chops. These two"—he gestured to Percy and Thalia—"are not invited."

Then he snapped his fingers and vanished into darkness.

Naomi's mother looked a touch paler. She took a moment to smooth her dress, then turned toward Naomi and her friends (and stepbrother). "You have done well, demigods." She waved her hand and two red roses appeared at Percy and Thalia's feet. "Crush these, and they will return you to the world of the living. You have my lord's thanks."

"I could tell," Thalia muttered.

"Making the sword was your idea," Percy realized. "That's why Hades wasn't there when you gave us the mission. Hades didn't know the sword was missing. He didn't even know it existed."

"Nonsense," the goddess said.

Nico clenched his fists. "Percy's right. You wanted Hades to make a sword. He told you no. He knew it was too dangerous. The other gods would never trust him. It would undo the balance of power."

"Then it got stolen," Thalia said. "You shut down the Underworld, not Hades. You couldn't tell him what had happened. And you needed us to get the sword back before Hades found out. You used us."

Persephone moistened her lips. "The important thing is that Hades has now accepted the sword. He will have it finished, and my husband will become as powerful as Zeus or Poseidon. Our realm will be protected against Kronos... or any others who try to threaten us."

"And we're responsible," Percy said miserably.

"You've been very helpful," Persephone agreed. "Perhaps a reward for your silence—"

"Mom," Naomi interrupted. "Don't push it."

The goddess huffed, and she disappeared in a shower of daisies.

They said their goodbyes on a balcony overlooking the Fields of Asphodel.

Naomi sighed. "I'm sorry about my mom, guys," she said. "I didn't think she'd do... all of that. She's usually a lot nicer."

"To you, maybe," Nico mumbled. "I'm still finding pollen in my hair."

Naomi rolled her eyes. "Keep complaining and I'll get her to teach me that trick."

"You don't have to apologize for your mom, Nay," Thalia said. "We aren't responsible for our parents. It's supposed to be the other way around."

Naomi nodded.

Inside, Bob the Titan was busy building a toy house out of bones. He laughed with delight every time it collapsed.

"We'll watch him," Naomi told Percy and Thalia, glancing at Nico, then back toward Bob.

Nico nodded. "He's harmless now. Maybe... I don't know. Maybe we can retrain him to do something good."

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" Percy asked. "Persephone will make your life miserable."

"I have to," Nico insisted. "I have to get close to my dad. He needs a better adviser."

"Well, if you need anything—"

"I'll call," Nico promised. He shook hands with Thalia and Percy. He turned to leave, but looked at Percy one more time. "Percy, you haven't forgotten my offer?"

Naomi held back a grimace.

"I'm still thinking about it," Percy told him.

Nico nodded. "Well, whenever you're ready."

After he was gone, Thalia asked, "What offer?"

"Something he told me last summer," Percy said, glancing briefly at Naomi. "A possible way to fight Kronos. It's dangerous. And I've had enough danger for one day."

Naomi smiled. "Be safe, guys."

Thalia gave Naomi a tight hug. "You too, kid."

"I'm technically older than you, y'know," Naomi pointed out.

"But you're still shorter," Thalia teased.

Naomi huffed with feigned annoyance. She hugged Percy next, trying to ignore how different it felt from hugging Thalia.

Percy smiled when they pulled away. "Enjoy lamb chops and tension."

"What's a family dinner without a little in-fighting?" Naomi joked, as if she had an abundance of experience with family dinners. "I'll see you guys around."

She turned and headed back into the palace, closing the balcony door behind her.

Her mother was waiting for her, watching Bob with a detached curiosity that vanished once Naomi appeared. The goddess mustered a smile, which Naomi didn't return.

"Is now the right time to start stirring up drama?" Naomi asked, voice almost a whine.

Persephone tucked a rogue strand of hair behind Naomi's ear. "I have no trust in the Olympians," she murmured. "Not anymore."

Naomi frowned. "Aren't your parents Olympians?"

"I trust my mother," Persephone conceded. "I trust Artemis. That is all."

"I didn't know you had issues with them," Naomi said.

"I've had issues with them since they put my daughter's life to a vote," Persephone said, her voice taking on a sharper tone. "That is something I cannot forgive without a sincere apology, and even then..." She sighed. "My family comes first. And that family is within this palace. The Olympians will not lend us aid if Kronos's armies descend upon us. We must be prepared to defend our kingdom on our own."

Naomi sighed. "I just wish you hadn't lied to us to do it," she mumbled, letting her mother wrap an arm around her to guide her to the dining room.

"I'm sorry, dear," Persephone murmured. "But sometimes, we have no choice but to bend the rules."

"Or break them completely," Naomi muttered. "What's with you and sword commissions, anyway? First Asphodel, now the Sword of Hades? Are you gonna get your own made, too?"

Persephone frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Naomi held her hand up, showing her mother the black ring. "You sent me this last winter," she reminded her. "With Skia."

Persephone shook her head. They reached the dining room and a pair of skeletal servants opened the doors for them. As they walked in, her mother said, "I sent you Hemlock three years ago, but I never sent you another, Kore."

Naomi frowned, looking down at Asphodel. "But... if you didn't send me the sword, who...?"

"Finally," Hades complained as his wife and stepdaughter sat down at the table. When they stared at him a moment longer than necessary, he asked, "What?"

"My lord," Persephone said slowly, a hint of a smile on her lips, "did you send my daughter a sword last winter?"

Hades blinked. "I..." He looked between Persephone and Naomi. He cleared his throat, looking away as he muttered, "I may have."

Naomi stared, shocked. "You sent me the sword?"

Hades shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "I was already having one forged for Nico," he mumbled. "There was some left over metal. I didn't want it to go to waste."

Persephone's smile grew. "There's never leftover metal, my lord. The measurements are too precise."

Hades huffed. "Well, you're welcome."

Naomi blinked. "I—uh, thank you, Lord Hades."

Nico looked between his father and his stepsister, looking rightfully bewildered. After a moment, he looked at Persephone and said, "Does this mean you won't turn me into a flower again?"

Persephone scowled. "I turned you into a weed, and I will do it again regardless of your father's softening heart—"

"My heart is not softening!" Hades protested immediately.

"You can't just turn me into a plant when you want me to stop talk—" Nico argued.

"I can do as I please, young man, and you are much more pleasant to be around as a dandelion than as a brooding—" Persephone interrupted.

"It's a gross overreaction and wholly unnecessary—"

"I'll tell you what is 'wholly unnecessary': four identical skull t-shirts, I have never known a demigod with such a bland fashion sense—"

"Naomi literally wears traffic-cone orange at camp!" Nico protested.

"Don't drag me into this!" Naomi complained. "And they're the camp t-shirts, I didn't get a vote on what color—"

"They look stupid and—"

"You look stupid—"

"Hey!"

Family dinner and in-fighting. What a way to spend the holidays.

Chapter 91: ACT FIVE: The Last Olympian

Chapter Text

"τί κοινότατον; Ἐλπίς. Καὶ γὰρ οἷς ἄλλο μηδέν, αὔτη παρέστη.

(what is quite common? hope. when all is gone, there is still hope.)"

Chapter 92: i. the beginning of the end

Chapter Text

"YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME."

"I do trust you," Naomi said. "That doesn't make this any less terrifying."

"Nay, you've faced Titans, monsters, and Drew when she's out of Tollhouse cookies," Percy said. "This is nothing."

Naomi sighed. "Fine," she grumbled. "But if I get hurt, I'm siccing Annabeth on you."

"Fair enough," he conceded. "Now get on the board."

Naomi warily put one foot on Percy's skateboard, the other still firmly planted on the asphalt. Slowly, she brought her other foot onto the board, and tried to stay balanced—which was not an easy task.

It was a hot August day, which is what Naomi blamed her warm face on—not the fact that Percy's hands were on her waist to keep her steady as she wobbled on his skateboard.

Yeah, that definitely had nothing to do with it.

"Once you can keep your balance, it's a breeze," Percy told her. "Of course, for normal people that's easy, but for someone as clumsy as you, it might take some practice."

Naomi scowled lightly. "I'm not that clumsy."

"You've almost beheaded Nico, like, three times," Percy countered.

"He keeps sneaking up on me!" Naomi protested. "He's like a mouse, I never hear him coming!"

"I'm just saying!" he said with a laugh. "Now, come on, I'm not letting you leave until you can get five feet without wiping out."

"Shouldn't I be wearing a helmet?" Naomi asked. "And elbow pads, and knee pads, and whatever else skaters wear to keep from getting road-rash or... skatepark-rash?"

"Only lame people wear that stuff," Percy said.

"That's like saying only lame heroes wear armor," Naomi shot back. "That's a dangerous precedent to set."

Percy rolled his eyes. "It's five feet. You'll be fine."

"Famous last words," she muttered.

"Okay, I'm gonna let go, and you're going to push yourself forward, just like I showed you," Percy said.

Naomi almost told him not to let go, but she'd never live that down. Instead, she nodded nervously.

Percy let go of her waist, and she adjusted carefully on the board. She pushed off of the ground and quickly replaced her foot on the board. The skateboard coasted forward at a snail's pace.

Then some eight-year-old decided to be a little shit and do a kickflip right in front of her, and Naomi panicked.

She was on the ground in about a second flat.

Percy looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh as he ran over to her. "Are you okay?"

Naomi grumbled a few choice words under her breath, glaring at her now scraped knee. "I haven't skinned my knee since fourth grade!"

"There goes your record," Percy snickered. "But I think you got a new one—I don't think I've ever seen anyone wipe out that quickly."

Naomi glared at him. "You're kind of an asshole, you know that?"

Percy laughed, offering his hands to help her up. Either he overestimated her weight or underestimated his strength, because he ended up pulling her up harder than he'd probably meant, resulting in Naomi stumbling into his chest.

(She wasn't sure she could blame the heat for this blush.)

"Sorry," she said.

Percy laughed, but there was a nervous tone to it. "No harm done."

Naomi looked up, and they were really close—like, if she wasn't almost an entire foot shorter than him, their noses would have been touching, close.

And then his mom and Paul pulled up to the skatepark entrance.

"Percy! Naomi!"

The two teenagers reeled away from each other as Sally waved at them from the car window.

"We're leaving in an hour for the beach and you still haven't packed!" Sally yelled at Percy. "Rachel's picking you up in thirty minutes!"

"I'll be right there!" Percy shouted back. He kicked his skateboard up into his hand (it really wasn't fair how something so innocuous was that hot, gods of Olympus), then looked back at Naomi. "Guess you haven't changed your mind about coming?"

"I—I have to get back to camp," Naomi said. "Scouting missions to go on, training to be had. Plus, I mean—the strawberries won't pick themselves."

"Right," Percy said. "Uh, we can give you a ride back to camp, or—"

"I'll be quicker on my own," Naomi said. "But thanks for the offer."

"Of course," he said. "Uh, be careful. And... tell Annabeth I said hi?"

"I will. Have fun at the beach. And, uh—tell Rachel I said hi, too."

Percy nodded. "I will."

They stood in silence for a moment that Naomi almost wished could last forever.

Then Paul honked again.

"I'll see you soon," Percy said.

"Yeah. Uh—bye," Naomi said.

Before the awkwardness could turn suffocating, Naomi hurried out of the skatepark, into the nearest alleyway, and disappeared into the shadows.

She landed in Cabin Six, which was empty save for Annabeth.

Annabeth didn't look up from Daedalus's laptop, which was just about the only light in the cabin at the moment. Naomi obviously appreciated the blackout curtains in terms of shadow-travel, but jeez was it gloomy.

"You're back early," Annabeth noted.

"No, I'm not," Naomi said. Then she looked at the clock on the wall. "Okay, maybe I'm a little early. Percy had to go back home to pack before his beach trip... with Rachel."

Naomi didn't have to look to know Annabeth's posture stiffened. "Oh. Fun."

"He says hi," Naomi offered.

Annabeth took a deep breath. "That's nice of him."

Naomi flopped down on Annabeth's bunk, which was right next to her desk. She nudged Annabeth's leg with her sneaker. "You should've come with me. You could've seen me wipe out on his skateboard."

Annabeth cracked a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Probably better that I didn't."

Naomi fought a sigh. Annabeth had been weird around Percy since the battle at the Labyrinth—not like she was afraid of him, but afraid for him, or maybe afraid to be close to him. Naomi was smart enough to figure it had something to do with what the Great Prophecy said about him, and what would happen when he reached seventeen.

No matter how many times Naomi asked, though, Annabeth wouldn't tell her what the prophecy said—about Percy or about Naomi.

She sat up, leaning over the foot of the bed to look at her friend. "Your hair's a mess."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but some of the tension left her shoulders. Naomi swore her love language was teasing. "You're too sweet."

Naomi chuckled, getting up. "Want me to braid it? Silena finally taught me how to do a French braid."

Annabeth leaned her head back to look at her, not unlike Spiderman looking at Mary Jane in that one scene. Her gray eyes glittered like colorless gemstones. "Please?"

Naomi went to work fixing Annabeth's hair. As she finger-combed through the abundance of knots in the blonde curls (Naomi thanked the gods everyday her hair was naturally straight), she asked, "What'd I miss?"

"Not much," Annabeth said. "Silena's still trying to talk Beckendorf out of his mission with Percy next week."

Naomi sighed. "She worries," she said, tying off one of the two braids and starting on the other. "I can't really blame her, though—I worry, too."

"We're at war," Annabeth said quietly, drawing her legs up into her chair. "Worry comes with the territory."

"I wish it didn't," Naomi mumbled.

Annabeth decided to change the subject. "You talked to Nico lately?"

"Not since my birthday," Naomi answered.

"It was nice of him to message," Annabeth said with a smile. "I didn't think he had it in him."

"I'm ninety-five percent sure my mom threatened to turn him into a dandelion again if he didn't," Naomi told her.

"Again?" Annabeth asked.

"Surprisingly, Hades and I get along better than those two do," Naomi said. "Who would've thought?"

Annabeth snorted. "At least he hasn't threatened to kill you again."

"Technically, he only threatened to kill me the first time because of Percy," Naomi said. "It was never personal. He's very adamant about that."

Annabeth let out a full laugh, and it was a sound sweeter than any song Naomi had ever heard.

Naomi tied off the second braid, swallowing down the surge of emotion inside her. "All done."

"Thanks, Buttercup," Annabeth said, leaning back to smile up at her.

The butterflies that now lived permanently (and rent-free) in Naomi's stomach raged at the sight.

Behind them, there was a gagging sound. "Get a room."

Annabeth sat up, looking back with an unimpressed look. "Very funny, Malcolm."

The fourteen-year-old son of Athena smirked. "Thanks, I like to think I'm pretty hilarious."

"Why don't you go show Mitchell your comedy routine?" Naomi asked, feigning innocence. "I'm sure he'd love to hear it."

The smirk was wiped off Malcolm's face, replaced by flushed cheeks. "Why—why would you say that? I don't like Mitchell—I don't even know a Mitchell!"

Naomi snorted. "Sure you don't," she said. "Drew must've been seeing things when she saw you two flirting in the arts and crafts building."

Impossibly, Malcolm's face got redder. "We were not flirting—I was explaining the difference between polar and nonpolar bonds."

Annabeth stared at him. "And... why were you explaining that?"

"He asked," Malcolm said.

"Ah," Naomi said. "So he was the one flirting, and you were the one who didn't even realize it was flirting. Nice, Malcolm."

Annabeth burst out laughing for some reason. At Naomi's raised eyebrow, she shook her head, trying to stop laughing. "Ignore me," she said. "I'm just..." She shook her head again, still laughing. "It's nothing."

"That was flirting?" Malcolm asked Naomi, bewildered.

"That's how common folk flirt with nerds," Naomi said. "At least, that's what Silena said. She used to ask Beckendorf to explain how all of his inventions worked just so she could stare at him while he was talking."

Annabeth stopped laughing. "Wait... when you asked me how they built the Eiffel Tower..."

Naomi's face felt hot. "I was genuinely curious!"

Annabeth narrowed her eyes at her, not quite sure whether to believe her or not.

"Look at the time!" Naomi squeaked out, looking at her wristwatch without even seeing the time. "I have to go meet Drew at the volleyball court for—for archery lessons!"

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. "Archery lessons at the volleyball court?"

"We're shooting at the balls!" Naomi stammered. "New exercise. Helps with reflexes."

"You don't do archery," Annabeth pointed out.

"I'm trying new things!" Naomi said as she hurried out of the Athena cabin.

"Remind me again how we got stuck on weapons duty?" Drew complained, setting down a freshly-sharpened dagger and picking up another dull one.

"You made fun of Clarisse and Chris's PDA and this is your punishment," Naomi reminded her. "And I'm such a good friend that I came to keep you company."

"If you were that good of a friend, you would've talked Clarisse out of punishing me at all," Drew said.

Naomi snorted, wiping down one of the few swords that had collected dust in the Ares cabin's weapons shed. "Silena tried, remember? If she can't talk Clarisse down, no one can."

Drew huffed. "Clarisse and Chris shouldn't have been making googly eyes at each other," she defended herself. "They were asking to be made fun of."

"Just hurry up so we can go to dinner," Naomi said.

Drew rolled her eyes, going back to work sharpening the blade in her hand. "If I chip a nail doing this, I'm pressing charges."

"For what?" Naomi laughed.

"Assault," Drew deadpanned.

There was a knock on the shed door. Beckendorf poked his head in. "How's my favorite Persephone kid and third-favorite Aphrodite kid?"

"Third?" Drew asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Oh, c'mon, you know Lacy's my number two," Beckendorf said defensively.

Drew huffed. "If you're bringing more weapons, I'm going to stab you with this." She brandished the dagger she was sharpening.

"You'd never stab me," Beckendorf said, stepping into the shed with a box full of newly-forged knives. "Silena would kill you."

"I could take her," Drew argued.

"No, you couldn't," Naomi said. "You'd be too worried about chipping a nail."

"You spend two hours and sixty bucks getting acrylics and tell me you wouldn't try to preserve them as long as possible," Drew huffed.

"Sixty bucks?" Naomi asked. "I thought your sibling Jordan did them."

"They did," Drew said. "And they're expensive. Can't blame them though." She admired her oil-spill designed nails. "Perfection costs money."

"Incorrect," Beckendorf said with a grin. "Silena's free tonight. We're having a picnic."

Drew made a gagging sound. "You're both disgusting."

Naomi laughed. "You're just jealous they're in looooooove."

"And you're just jealous Percy's spending his summer vacation with that mortal girl," Drew countered.

Naomi glared at her. "Low blow, Tanaka."

Beckendorf snorted, ruffling Naomi's hair. "You kids are adorable."

"You're only two years older than us, Becken-dork," Drew said, pointing her sharpened dagger at him again. "Don't get cocky."

Beckendorf rolled his eyes. "You know you love me, Drew," he said. "We're practically family."

"I'm not calling you my brother until you put a ring on Silena's finger," Drew said.

Beckendorf's smile turned sheepish. "All in good time," he said. "No need to rush forever."

Drew gagged again. "You're making me sick."

Beckendorf laughed. "I'll see you two at dinner."

Drew picked up another knife to sharpen as he left, glaring at the new additions to their pile. "Those two are going to give me a cavity."

"They're cute," Naomi said. "Leave them be."

"Speaking of cute," Drew said, "let's talk about me. I'm thinking about asking Silena to cut my hair to my shoulders. Thoughts?"

"I think it'd look nice," Naomi told her, grabbing another dagger.

Drew smirked. "It would, wouldn't it?"

A week later, Beckendorf got ready to leave for his and Percy's mission to blow up the Princess Andromeda. Silena, Annabeth, and Naomi came to see him off.

Well, Annabeth and Naomi came to see him off. Silena...

"Someone else should go," Silena said desperately. "There's still so many weapons to forge, gadgets and—"

"Silena," Beckendorf said, his voice gentle. "It's gonna be okay. We've got everything planned down to a T. It's gonna be fine."

"I just..." Silena's voice faltered. "I'm worried, Charlie. I don't want you to go."

"I'll be fine," Beckendorf promised. He kissed her goodbye, long enough that Naomi and Annabeth looked away, feeling like intruders. "I'll see you when I get back."

Silena's eyes were glassy. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Beckendorf turned to Annabeth and Naomi, managing a smile.

"Be careful, Beckendorf," Annabeth said.

Beckendorf gave her a two-finger salute. "Always am, Chase."

Naomi gave him a hug. "See you soon, Beck."

He smiled. "See you soon, Nay."

Blackjack nickered, clearly impatient. Beckendorf mounted the pegasus, and with a final wave, Blackjack took to the sky.

They watched until they couldn't see him anymore.

Silena sniffled quietly. Naomi wrapped an arm around her waist. "He'll be okay," she murmured.

Silena took a deep breath and nodded, as if forcing herself to believe Naomi. "He'll be okay," she repeated.

Chapter 93: ii. the great prophecy

Chapter Text

THREE HOURS, FIFTY-ONE MINUTES, AND SIXTEEN SECONDS after Beckendorf left camp, Naomi knew he was dead.

She'd just started her shift on lookout duty, perched on a tree branch twenty feet in the air with Hemlock resting in her lap when her stomach dropped in that increasingly familiar way. She had to steady herself on the tree trunk, her heart stopping as the feeling washed over her.

She choked on a sob. She had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. There wasn't even anyone around to hear her, but she didn't dare make a noise.

If she started crying now, she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to stop.

Her chest felt tight with grief. She kept picturing Beckendorf's face—how he smiled whenever he looked at Silena, never even meaning to; how his eyes lit up when someone asked about his latest project in the forges. He was supposed to start college in the fall—him and Silena. They were supposed to go together.

They were supposed to get a happy ending.

When Percy walked out of the ocean onto the shore a few hours later, she hardly had enough breath to blow the conch horn to alert the rest of camp of his arrival.

Even without her death-sense, she would've known something had gone wrong, just from the look on Percy's face. She didn't have to ask, and he didn't have to explain.

She hugged him as tightly as she could, and he buried his face in her neck, his breathing shuddered.

Together, they climbed the sand dunes. A few hundred yards away, the campers were already streaming toward them, smiling and excited.

Percy and Naomi stopped at the dining pavilion, waiting for them.

Chiron galloped into the pavilion first. His beard had gotten wilder over the course of the summer. He looked as worn as the rest of them—more, even. This wasn't the first war he'd gone through, not by a long shot.

"Percy!" he said. "Thank the gods. But where..."

Annabeth ran in right behind him. "What happened?" She grabbed Percy's arm. "Is Luke—"

"The ship blew up," Percy said. "He wasn't destroyed. I don't know where—"

Silena pushed through the crowd. She looked as disheveled as she had that morning, her hair uncombed and her face clear of any makeup. Drew was right behind her, only looking slightly more put together.

"Where's Charlie?" Silena demanded, looking around like he might be hiding.

Percy glanced at Chiron helplessly, and understanding flickered across the teacher's face.

The old centaur cleared his throat. "Silena, my dear, let's talk about this at the Big House—"

"No," she whispered. "No. No."

She started to cry, and the rest of the campers were too stunned to move. They'd already lost so many people, but this was the worst. With Beckendorf gone, it felt like someone had stolen the anchor for the entire camp.

Clarisse came forward, wrapping an arm around Silena. "Come on, girl," she said gently. "Let's get to the Big House. I'll make you some hot chocolate."

Everyone turned and wandered off in twos and threes, heading back to the cabins. Drew wrapped her arm around Lacy, who was crying. Drew's eyes were glassy, but Naomi knew she wouldn't let herself cry until there was no one around to see. For now, she'd take over for Silena while her older sister mourned, and make sure their siblings were okay.

When it was only Naomi, Annabeth, Chiron, and Percy, Annabeth wiped a tear from her cheek. "I'm glad you're not dead, Seaweed Brain."

"Thanks," Percy said. "Me too."

Chiron put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could, Percy. Will you tell us what happened?"

Percy went through the story, including his dream about the Titans on Mount Tamalpais, and the spy at Camp Half-Blood.

When he was done, Chiron gazed down at the valley. "We must call a war council immediately, to discuss this spy, and other matters."

"Poseidon mentioned another threat," Percy said. "Something even bigger than the Princess Andromeda. I thought it might be that challenge the Titan had mentioned in my dream."

Chiron and Annabeth exchanged looks.

"We will discuss that also," Chiron promised.

"One more thing." Percy took a deep breath. "When I talked to my father, he said to tell you it's time. I need to know the full prophecy."

Chiron's shoulders sagged, but he didn't look surprised. He looked from Percy to Naomi—not entirely unlike the way he'd looked at them on their very first day at camp. That felt like another life, but it had only been a few years. It was strange how much things had changed since then.

"I've dreaded this day," Chiron said. "Very well. Annabeth, we will show Percy—and Naomi—the truth. All of it. Let's go to the attic."

Strangely enough, Naomi had never set foot in the attic in the four years she'd been at Camp Half-Blood. She'd never had a need to—the attic was home to the Oracle, and the only time Naomi had ever consulted with the Oracle for her quest a year and a half ago, the mummy had come to her and Zoe Nightshade directly.

A ladder led up from the top of the staircase. Naomi wondered how Chiron was supposed to get up there, being half-horse and all, but he didn't even try.

"You know where it is," he told Annabeth. "Bring it down, please."

Annabeth nodded. "Come on, guys."

The sun was setting outside, so the attic was even darker and creepier than usual. Old hero trophies were slacked everywhere—dented shields, pickled heads in jars from various monsters, a pair of fuzzy dice on a bronze plaque that read: STOLEN FROM CHRYSAOR'S HONDA CIVIC, BY GUS, SON OF HERMES, 1988.

Percy picked up a curved bronze sword so badly bent it looked like the letter M. Naomi could still see green stains on the metal from the magical poison that used to cover it. The tag was dated last summer. It read: Scimitar of Kampê, destroyed in the Battle of the Labyrinth.

"You remember Briares throwing those boulders?" Percy asked.

Annabeth gave him a grudging smile. "And Grover causing a Panic?"

They locked eyes for a moment until Annabeth cleared her throat and looked away. "Prophecy."

"Right." Percy put down the scimitar. "Prophecy."

They walked over to the window. On a three-legged stool sat the Oracle—a shriveled female mummy in a tie-dyed dress. Tufts of black hair clung to her skull. Glassy eyes started out of her leathery face. Just looking at her made Naomi's skin crawl.

"I never understood this," Percy whispered.

"What?" Annabeth asked.

"Why it's a mummy."

"Percy, she didn't used to be a mummy. For thousands of years the spirit of the Oracle lived inside a beautiful maiden. The spirit would be passed on from generation to generation. Chiron told me she was like that fifty years ago." Annabeth pointed at the mummy. "But she was the last."

"What happened?"

Annabeth started to say something, then apparently changed her mind. "Let's just do our job and get out of here."

Percy looked nervously at the Oracle's withered face. "So what now?"

Annabeth approached the mummy and held out her palms. "O Oracle, the time is at hand. I ask for the Great Prophecy."

Naomi braced herself, but the mummy didn't move. Instead, Annabeth approached and unclasped one of the necklaces. When she turned back toward Naomi and Percy, she was holding a leather pouch on a cord braided with feathers. She opened the bag and took out a roll of parchment no bigger than her pinky.

"No way," Percy said. "You mean all these years, I've been asking about this stupid prophecy, and it's been right there around her neck?"

"The time wasn't right," Annabeth said. "Believe me, I read this when I was ten years old, and I still have nightmares about it."

"Great," Percy said. "Can we read it now?"

"Downstairs at the war council," Annabeth said. "Not in front of... you know."

They headed downstairs to join the others. Naomi was half-excited, half-dreading. For years, monsters and gods alike had hinted at her role in the war, but none gave her the full story. Even her own mother refused to tell her what Naomi was supposed to do.

After years of wondering why the gods didn't like that she existed, why Kronos had been determined to get her to his side (willingly or not), she'd finally have the answers.

(If she'd known what those answers would be, she never would have asked the questions in the first place.)

The senior counselors (and Naomi) had gathered around the ping-pong table. Naomi had only sat in on a council meeting once for her quest to rescue Annabeth and Artemis a few winters ago.

This one was a lot louder.

Clarisse was still in her full battle gear. Her electric spear was strapped to her back, and she had her boar-shaped helmet under one arm and a knife at her belt.

She was in the middle of yelling at Michael Yew, the new head counselor of the Apollo cabin (having taken over after Lee's death last summer). The argument was almost funny to watch, seeing as Michael was almost two feet shorter than the daughter of Ares, though he made up for his height with his attitude.

(Not that Naomi had much room to talk when it came to height. She'd stopped growing at a meager five-foot-one—and that was rounded up.)

"It's our loot!" Michael yelled, standing on his tiptoes so he could get in Clarisse's face. "If you don't like it, you can kiss my quiver!"

Around the table, people were trying not to laugh—the Stolls, Pollux from the Dionysus cabin, Katie. Even Jake Mason, the hastily appointed new counselor from Hephaestus, managed a faint smile.

Only Silena didn't pay any attention. She sat next to Clarisse and stared vacantly at the ping-pong net. Her eyes were red and puffy. A cup of hot chocolate sat untouched in front of her.

Naomi wasn't an angry person by nature, but seeing Clarisse and Michael argue about something as stupid as the damned loot while Silena mourned the loss of her boyfriend made her see red.

"Are you kidding me?" she yelled. "You two have the nerve to argue about this bullshit now? What is wrong with you?"

Clarisse glowered at her. "Tell Michael not to be a selfish jerk."

"Oh, that's perfect, coming from you," Michael said.

"The only reason I'm here is to support Silena!" Clarisse shouted. "Otherwise, I'd be back in my cabin."

"What are you talking about?" Percy demanded.

Pollux cleared his throat. "Clarisse has refused to speak to any of us, until her, um, issue is resolved. She hasn't spoken for three days."

"It's been wonderful," Travis said wistfully.

"What issue?" Percy asked.

Naomi sat down in the empty chair next to Silena, though the daughter of Aphrodite hardly noticed, even when Naomi laid a hand on her arm.

Clarisse turned to Chiron. "You're in charge, right? Does my cabin get what we want or not?"

Chiron shuffled his hooves. "My dear, as I've already explained, Michael is correct. Apollo's cabin has the best claim. Besides, we have more important matters—"

"Sure," Clarisse snapped. "Always more important matters than what Ares needs. We're just supposed to show up and fight when you need us, and not complain!"

"That would be nice," Connor muttered.

Clarisse gripped her knife. "Maybe I should ask Mr. D—"

"As you know," Chiron interrupted, his tone slightly angry now, "our director, Dionysus, is busy with the war. He can't be bothered with this."

"I see," Clarisse said. "And the senior counselors? Are any of you going to side with me?"

Nobody was smiling now. None of the counselors met Clarisse's eyes.

"Fine." Clarisse turned to Silena. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get into this when you've just lost... Anyway, I apologize. To you. Nobody else."

Silena didn't seem to register her words.

Clarisse threw her knife on the Ping-Pong table. "All of you can fight this war without Ares. Until I get satisfaction, no one in my cabin is lifting a finger to help. Have fun dying."

The counselors were all too stunned to say anything as Clarisse stormed out of the room.

Finally Michael Yew said, "Good riddance."

"Are you kidding?" Katie protested. "This is a disaster!"

"She can't be serious," Travis said. "Can she?"

Chiron sighed. "Her pride has been wounded. She'll calm down eventually." But he didn't sound convinced.

"Now," he continued, "if you please, counselors. Percy has brought something I think you should hear. Percy—the Great Prophecy."

Annabeth handed him the parchment, taking a seat next to Naomi.

Percy uncurled the paper, and began to read:

"A half-blood of the eldest dogs..."

"Uh, Percy?" Annabeth interrupted. "That's 'gods.' Not dogs."

"Oh, right," he said.

He started over:

"A half-blood of the eldest gods

Shall reach seventeen against all odds..."

He hesitated, staring at the paper.

"And see the world in endless sleep,

The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

He paused, his expression conflicted.

"Percy," Chiron urged. "Keep going."

Percy looked at Naomi, and her chest tightened.

This was it.

"Victory the forbidden daughter claims,

Darkness unbound snuffs out the flames.

A single choice shall... shall end his days,

Olympus to per—pursue—"

"Preserve," Annabeth said gently. "It means 'to save.'"

"I know what it means," Percy grumbled.

"Olympus to preserve or raze."

The room was silent for so long Naomi thought she'd gone deaf.

Finally, Connor said, "Raise is good, isn't it?"

"Not raise," Silena said. Her voice was hollow, but Naomi was startled to hear her speak at all. "R-a-z-e means 'destroy.'"

"Obliterate," Annabeth said. "Annihilate. Turn to rubble."

"Got it," Percy said, his voice small. "Thanks."

Everybody's gazes seemed to be shifting from him to Naomi, their expressions ranging from concern, to pity, to fear.

Chiron closed his eyes as if he were saying a prayer. In horse form, his head almost brushed the lights in the rec room. "You see now, Percy, why we thought it best not to tell you the whole prophecy. You've had enough on your shoulders—"

"Without realizing I was going to die in the end anyway?" Percy said. "Yeah, I get it."

Naomi felt like she was going to be sick.

"Percy," Annabeth said. "You know prophecies always have double meanings. It might not literally mean you die."

"Sure," he said. "A single choice shall end his days. That has tons of meanings, right?"

"Maybe we can stop it," Jake Mason offered. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap. Maybe we could find this cursed blade and destroy it. Sounds like Kronos's scythe, right?"

"Victory the forbidden daughter claims," Naomi whispered, but everyone heard her perfectly fine. "That... that's good, isn't it? If I'm supposed to claim victory... that means we win, right?"

"It could mean only you win," Travis pointed out. "Not all of us."

"Plus, the victory might not be the war," Pollux said quietly. He was quieter, now that his brother was gone—like Castor had taken most of Pollux's energy with him when he died. "You could win something else."

"And... well, we don't know how the war'll go," Katie said nervously. "Kronos has contingencies. He could figure out a way to get you onto his side. Gods know he's been trying."

Naomi shook his head. "That would never happen," she said, her voice hard. "I'd never join Kronos."

"Not even if he offered to spare the people you love?" Silena's eyes were soft with grief, but the way she looked at Naomi made her shudder. There was pain in her eyes that made Naomi want to hide from it, like it would infect her.

Naomi swallowed. She hoped no one else saw how her eyes flitted briefly toward Percy and Annabeth, but she doubted it was easy to miss.

Still, her answer was the same as it had been on Mount Tam, when she'd looked Atlas in the eye and told him she didn't bargain with monsters.

"Not even then," she whispered. "Not after everything he's taken from us."

Chiron cleared his throat. "I hope you are right, Naomi." He took a deep breath. "Perhaps we should allow Percy to think about these lines," he said. "He needs time—"

"No." Percy's voice was angry—defiant. He folded up the prophecy and shoved it into his pocket. "I don't need time. If I die, I die. I can't worry about that, right?"

Annabeth's hands were shaking. She wouldn't look at anyone.

"Let's move on," Percy said. "We've got other problems. We've got a spy."

Michael Yew scowled. "A spy?"

Percy told them what had happened on the Princess Andromeda—how Kronos had known he and Beckendorf were coming, how he'd shown Percy the silver scythe pendant he'd been using to communicate with someone at camp.

Silena started crying again. Naomi put an arm around her shoulders.

"Well," Connor said nervously, "we've suspected there might be a spy for years, right? Somebody kept passing information to Luke—like the location of the Golden Fleece a couple of years ago. It must be somebody who knew him well."

Maybe subconsciously, he glanced at Annabeth. She'd known Luke better than anyone, of course, but Connor looked away quickly. "Um, I mean, it could be anybody."

"Yes." Katie frowned at the Stolls. Clearly, this was one of hers and Travis's off periods. "Like one of Luke's siblings."

Travis and Connor both started arguing with her.

"Stop!" Silena banged the table so hard her hot chocolate spilled. "Charlie's dead and... and you're all arguing like little kids!" She put her head down and began to sob.

Hot chocolate trickled off the ping-pong table. The counselors had the decency to look ashamed.

"She's right," Pollux said at last. "Accusing each other doesn't help. We need to keep our eyes open for a silver necklace with a scythe charm. If Kronos had one, the spy probably does too."

Michael grunted. "We need to find this spy before we plan our next operation. Blowing up the Princess Andromeda won't stop Kronos forever."

"No indeed," Chiron said. "In fact, his next assault is already on the way."

Percy scowled. "You mean the 'bigger threat' Poseidon mentioned?"

Chiron looked at Naomi and Annabeth.

"Percy," Chiron said, "we didn't want to tell you until you returned to camp. You needed a break with your... mortal friends."

Annabeth tensed infinitesimally. Naomi stared at the table.

"Tell me what's happened," Percy said.

Chiron picked up a bronze goblet from the snack table. He tossed water onto the hot plate they had lying around. Steam billowed up, making a rainbow in the fluorescent lights. Chiron fished a golden drachma out of his pouch, tossed it through the mist, and muttered, "O Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show us the threat."

The mist shimmered. Naomi watched the image of the smoldering Mount St. Helens materialize. As she watched, the side of the mountain exploded. Fire, ash, and lava rolled out. A newscaster's voice was saying: "—even larger than last year's explosion, and geologists warn that the mountain may not be done."

Last year's explosion had been Percy's fault, but this explosion was much worse. The mountain tore itself apart, collapsing inward, and an enormous form rose out of the smoke and lava like it was emerging from a manhole cover.

The giant that emerged was bigger than anything Naomi had ever seen before. Even her demigod eyes couldn't make out its exact form through the ash and fire, but it was vaguely humanoid and so huge it could've used the Chrysler Building as a baseball bat. The mountain shook with a terrible rumbling, as if the monster were laughing.

"It's him," Percy said. "Typhon."

Chiron nodded. "The most horrible monster of all, the biggest single threat the gods ever faced. He has been freed from under the mountain at last. But this scene is from two days ago. Here is what is happening today."

Chiron waved his hand and the image changed. A bank of storm clouds rolled across the Midwest plains. Lightning flickered. Lines of tornadoes destroyed everything in their path—ripping up houses and trailers, tossing cars around like Matchbox toys.

"Monumental floods," an announcer was saying. "Five states declared disaster areas as the freak storm system sweeps east, continuing its path of destruction." The cameras zoomed in on a column of storm bearing down on some Midwest city. Inside of the storm was the giant—a smoky arm, a dark clawed hand the size of a city block. His angry roar rolled across the plains like a nuclear blast. Other smaller forms darted through the clouds, circling the monster. There were flashes of light, and the giant tried to swat them away. Naomi caught a glimpse of a golden chariot flying into the blackness, then a monstrous owl diving in to attack the giant.

"Are those... the gods?" Percy asked.

"Yes, Percy," Chiron said. "They have been fighting him for days now, trying to slow him down. But Typhon is marching forward—toward New York. Toward Olympus."

"How long until he gets here?"

"Unless the gods can stop him? Perhaps five days. Most of the Olympians are there... except your father, who has a war of his own to fight."

"But then who's guarding Olympus?"

Connor Stoll shook his head. "If Typhon gets to New York, it won't matter who's guarding Olympus."

Percy's brow pinched in thought. "It's a trick," he said after a moment. "We have to warn the gods. Something else is going to happen."

Chiron looked at him gravely. "Something worse than Typhon? I hope not."

"We have to defend Olympus," Percy insisted. "Kronos has another attack planned."

"He did," Travis reminded him. "But you sunk his ship."

"Maybe you're right," Percy said after a moment, but Naomi could tell he didn't believe a word he was saying.

Naomi couldn't imagine how things could get worse. The gods were in the Midwest fighting a huge monster that had almost defeated them once before. According to Percy, Poseidon was under siege and losing a war against the sea Titan Oceanus. Kronos was still out there somewhere. Olympus was virtually undefended, and Camp Half-Blood was on its own, with a spy in their midst.

And, according to the ancient prophecy, Naomi's best friend was going to die when he turned seventeen—in five days, right when Typhon was supposed to hit New York.

"Well," Chiron said, "I think that's enough for one night."

He waved his hand and the steam dissipated. The stormy battle of Typhon and the gods disappeared.

"That's an understatement," Percy muttered.

And with that, the war council adjourned.

Chapter 94: iii. naomi runs away from her feelings

Chapter Text

NAOMI DREAMED SHE WAS ON OLYMPUS. The throne room was empty, which shouldn't have been a surprise—the gods were all off trying to slow down Typhon before he could reach this very room and tear it apart.

In the center of the space, visible from every throne, stood a brazier Naomi had never given much thought to. She'd seen it the two times she'd been on Olympus, of course, and felt its gentle warmth when she was close enough to it, but she hadn't paid it much mind besides reveling in its heat.

But now, it was all her dream-mind could seem to focus on.

I will give you victory beyond your dreams, a voice whispered into Naomi's mind, ancient and knowing. She flinched at the sound of it. Snuff the flames of Olympus. Bring these haughty gods to their knees.

"No," Naomi whispered, but her feet brought her to the brazier against her own will. Shadows followed her feet, like smoke billowing along a ceiling, or mist on the ground in the early morning. It spread out in front of her, tendrils of it reaching toward the brazier, toward the fire within it.

It is your destiny, the voice murmured. Let the Olympians fall. Their time has long since passed.

"No!" Naomi tried to fight her own limbs, but before she knew it, she was standing right in front of the brazier, once more reveling in its warmth.

She didn't want to snuff these flames out; they were too welcoming. They made her feel at home in a way she rarely felt, even at Camp Half-Blood, even with the people she loved. They made her feel content.

The Olympians have wished time and time again for your death, the voice whispered, but now it sounded more like a serpent's hiss. They killed your father. They tried to kill you. These are the gods you wish to defend?

"Stop!" Naomi demanded, her voice shaking. "Stop it!"

If the gods do not fall, you will face horror beyond even the gods' worst nightmares, the voice said. It sounded like a promise, not a threat. But you can save yourself that pain. You can prevent the suffering in your future, the agony you will face in defense of Olympus. Make the right choice. Claim victory for the Titans.

"You're insane!" Naomi shouted. "I'm not fighting for the Titans!"

Not even to save those you love most?

In the flames, an image came to life. Percy, his eyes lifeless, his body still. Annabeth was laying beside him, just as still—just as dead.

Naomi choked on a sob. "No."

You can prevent this, the voice promised. Pledge your allegiance to Kronos. Damn the gods, just as they have damned their children.

Naomi shook her head. "You—you're trying to trick me."

No, darling, the voice murmured. I would never trick you.

"Who are you?" Naomi demanded. "Why are you showing me this?"

To remind you of all you have to lose. Perseus and Annabeth do not have to die in this war. You can save them.

"You're lying," Naomi croaked.

I swear on the River Styx, the voice murmured. The marble floor beneath Naomi's feet shook. Or was that just her? If you pledge your allegiance to the Titans, Perseus and Annabeth will live.

"No," Naomi whispered. But she could feel it, could feel the power of that oath even in a dream.

If she fought for Kronos, Percy and Annabeth would live.

Choose wisely, my dear, the voice whispered. You have time. Not much—but enough. Remember my promise.

The next morning, Naomi couldn't bring herself to get out of bed until long after her cabin-mates had given up, leaving for breakfast without her.

By the time Annabeth and Percy came around for cabin inspections, she'd only just managed to get dressed, sitting on her messily-made bunk, her eyes dry from staring at the wall.

"Nay?"

Naomi looked back, seeing Annabeth with her clipboard in hand, but all of her focus was on Naomi. It hurt to be looked at like that—like you meant enough to someone that looking away took effort, that looking away hurt.

"You okay?" Percy was looking at her like that, too—like to look away was to put her in danger, like that was the last thing in the world he wanted.

Perseus and Annabeth will live.

Naomi wiped her face, erasing any lingering evidence of her cry-fest from earlier. She doubted it helped much—Percy and Annabeth had an annoying habit of always knowing when she was upset. Or maybe she just wore her heart on her sleeve a little too much.

"I'm fine," she said, her raspy voice immediately betraying her. She cleared her throat. "Bad dream, that's all."

Annabeth sat down on the bunk next to her, setting down her clipboard. She tucked a piece of Naomi's hair behind her ear so she could see her face. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Her voice was too soft, her actions too tender. It was like Naomi could feel herself slipping, too fast, too far. It was the scariest thing she'd ever experienced, which was saying something.

Naomi shook her head sharply, standing up. "No," she said. "I just—I'm supposed to be in the strawberry fields. I—I'll see you later."

She hurried out of the cabin, ignoring the two calling after her, her heart pounding with the one thing she couldn't say out loud, the one truth that would make Naomi's choice for her, gods be damned.

(That truth: she was in love with Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson. That was the long and short of it, the simplest yet scariest truth of the known universe. She was in love with them, so in love it hurt, so in love she could see herself accepting the mysterious voice's offer, so in love she could damn the gods to hell and all their children with them, so long as Annabeth and Percy survived.)

That afternoon, to Naomi's surprise, Chiron asked her to lead the assembly to burn Beckendorf's burial shroud. It made sense, though—with Nico out doing whatever it was he was doing, Naomi was the only one at camp with a proper connection to the Underworld.

She already knew the burial rites—she'd unfortunately had a lot of practice after the Battle of the Labyrinth. She said a prayer in Ancient Greek, praying to her mother, her stepfather, and her old friend Death to ensure Beckendorf's spirit would end up in Elysium, where he belonged.

When his shroud was burned, most of the other campers drifted off to their afternoon activities. Naomi stayed next to Silena, Clarisse and Chris on the daughter of Aphrodite's other side, all of them trying to comfort her.

After a moment, Percy came over. "Hey, Silena, I'm really sorry."

Silena sniffled. Clarisse glared at him, though that was her default expression nowadays.

Percy cleared his throat. "Silena, you know Beckendorf carried your picture. He looked at it right before we went into battle. You meant a lot to him. You made the last year the best of his life."

Silena sobbed.

"Good work, Percy," Clarisse muttered.

"No, it's all right," Silena said. "Thank... thank you, Percy. I should go."

"You want company?" Naomi asked gently.

Silena shook her head and walked off. Naomi watched her go, her heart heavy.

Surprisingly, Clarisse squeezed Naomi's shoulder. "She's stronger than she looks," she muttered. "She'll survive."

"You could help with that," Percy suggested. "You could honor Beckendorf's memory by fighting with us."

Clarisse's hand dropped from Naomi's shoulder, going for her knife, but it wasn't there anymore. She'd thrown it on the ping-pong table in the Big House.

"Not my problem," she growled. "My cabin doesn't get honor—I don't fight."

"All right," Percy said. "I didn't want to bring this up, but you owe me one. You'd be rotting in a Cyclops's cave in the Sea of Monsters if it wasn't for me."

She clenched her jaw. "Any other favor, Percy. Not this. The Ares cabin has been dissed too many times. And don't think I don't know what people say about me behind my back."

"So what—you're just going to let Kronos crush us?" Percy asked.

"If you want my help so much, tell Apollo to give us the chariot."

"You're such a big baby."

Clarisse charged him, but Chris got between them. "Whoa, guys," he said. "Clarisse, you know, maybe he's got a point."

She sneered at him. "Not you too!"

She trudged off with Chris at her heels. "Hey, wait! I just meant—Clarisse, wait!"

Percy huffed, visibly frustrated. "What are we supposed to do?" he asked Naomi. "If she won't fight—"

"Just give her space," Naomi said quietly.

He sighed. "Fine," he mumbled. "I'm going to go see Mrs. O'Leary. Wanna come?"

Naomi bit the inside of her cheek. "I—I need air," she said, as if they weren't standing in the middle of the amphitheater. "I'm just gonna take a walk or something."

He frowned. He was looking at her again—like she was the sun, or maybe the moon, or some other lone celestial wonder in a sky full of stars. It made her ache.

"What's up with you today, Nay?" His voice was infuriatingly gentle. "You've been off since this morning. What's wrong?"

I'm so selfishly in love with you and Annabeth that I'd join the Titans if it meant you'd live, even if you'd never forgive me for it.

"I just—I need air," she managed. "I'll—I'll see you later."

She left before she lost the nerve to.

Skia found her as soon as she stepped into the forest, though Naomi hadn't even meant to summon her. She just appeared like that, sometimes—maybe she sensed Naomi's despair.

"Hey, girl," she whispered, scratching behind Skia's ear.

The beast licked her face, and Naomi grimaced slightly, though a small smile quickly took over. "I missed you, too."

Skia walked by her side as Naomi wandered through the forest. She had no destination in mind—she was content just to walk, if only to get her mind off of more harrowing matters.

It was only somewhat successful.

She felt Nico appear before she saw him. She turned, watching him stumble slightly as he stepped out of a shadow, having to steady himself.

"Your landing's still sloppy," Naomi mumbled.

Nico scowled at her. "Not all of us are Umbra Electi—whatever the Hades that means."

"You say that like I know what it means," Naomi muttered. She'd spent a lot of time since her foray into Tartarus-born darkness last summer doing research with Annabeth, and they had yet to come up with any existing information about Umbra Electi or her father, which were not mutually exclusive topics.

Her mother, of course, wasn't any help. She refused to speak of Naomi's father—she only ever said he was a good man, and that was it.

"I'm guessing this isn't a friendly pop-in?" Naomi asked, burying her hand in Skia's fur. The dog's wagging tail nearly knocked Nico over, and he stepped out of the line of fire, petting the beast's back.

"No," he admitted. "I need to talk to you and Percy."

Naomi sighed. "Of course you do."

Before Nico could ask where the son of Poseidon was, they both heard yelling a few yards away.

Nico raised an eyebrow at her, as if Naomi was supposed to know what was going on.

She shrugged and walked toward the noise, Nico and Skia right behind her.

The yelling was coming from the clearing where the Council of Cloven Elders had once put Naomi's friend Grover on trial. The place had clearly seen better days—the grass had turned yellow, the topiary thrones had lost their leaves. In the middle of the glade, Grover's girlfriend, Juniper, and a very ornery satyr were having an argument.

Before Naomi could even ask what they were arguing about, a second hellhound bounded into the clearing, almost running Skia over in her haste to greet her. Both hellhounds' bodies shook happily as they reunited, licking all over each other's faces and nipping playfully at each other.

Percy was right behind Mrs. O'Leary, looking confused as to what he'd just stumbled upon.

The old satyr squeaked in terror. "What are these Underworld creatures doing in my forest?" He waved his arms and trotted on his hooves like the grass was hot. "You there, Underworld brats, are these your beasts?"

"Who're you calling brats?" Nico asked, glaring at the old goat.

"Yeah, I'm the only one who gets to call Nico a brat," Naomi said.

"Hey!"

"Call them off!" the old satyr yelled.

"WOOF!" Mrs. O'Leary said happily.

"ARF!" Skia responded gleefully.

The old satyr gulped. "Make them go away! Juniper, I will not help you under these circumstances!"

Percy walked over to Nico and Naomi as Juniper turned toward them. "Naomi, Percy," she sniffled. "I was just asking about Grover. I know something's happened. He wouldn't stay gone this long if he wasn't in trouble. I was hoping that Leneus—"

"I told you!" the satyr protested. "You are better off without that traitor."

Juniper stamped her foot. "He is not a traitor! He's the bravest satyr ever, and I want to know where he is!"

"WOOF!"

Leneus's knees started knocking. "I... I won't answer questions with these hellhounds sniffing my tail!"

Nico looked like he was trying to not crack up. "I'll walk the dogs," he volunteered.

He whistled, and Mrs. O'Leary and Skia bounded after him to the far end of the grove.

Leneus huffed indignantly and brushed the twigs off his shirt. "Now, as I was trying to explain, young lady, your boyfriend has not sent any reports since we voted him into exile."

"You tried to vote him into exile," Percy corrected. "Chiron and Dionysus stopped you."

"Bah! They are honorary Council members. It wasn't a proper vote."

"We'll tell Dionysus you said that," Naomi said.

Leneus paled. "I only meant... Now see here, you two. This is none of your business."

"Grover's our friend," Percy said. "He wasn't lying to you about Pan's death. We saw it. You were just too scared to accept the truth."

Leneus's lips quivered. "No! Grover's a liar, and good riddance. We're better off without him."

Naomi pointed at the withered thrones. "If things are going so well, where are your friends? Looks like your Council hasn't been meeting lately."

"Maron and Silenus... I... I'm sure they'll be back," he said, but there was clear panic in his voice. "They're just taking some time off to think. It's been a very unsettling year."

"It's going to get a lot more unsettling," Percy promised, a dangerous edge to his voice that was not helping Naomi's stupid-in-love problem. "Leneus, we need Grover. There's got to be a way you can find him with your magic."

The old satyr's eye twitched. "I'm telling you, I've heard nothing. Perhaps he's dead."

Juniper choked back a sob. Naomi put a hand on her arm.

"He's not dead," Percy said. "I can feel that much."

"Empathy links," Leneus said disdainfully. "Very unreliable."

"So ask around," Percy insisted. "Find him. There's a war coming. Grover was preparing the nature spirits."

"Without my permission! And it's not our war."

Percy grabbed him by the shirt, which was very out of character for him, though Naomi couldn't blame him for getting angry. "Listen, Leneus. When Kronos attacks, he's going to have packs of hellhounds. He's going to destroy everything in his path—mortals, gods, demigods. Do you think he'll let the satyrs go free? You're supposed to be a leader. So LEAD. Get out there and see what's happening. Find Grover and bring Juniper some news. Now, GO!"

He didn't even push him very hard, but Leneus was kind of top-heavy. He fell on his furry rump, then scrambled to his hooves and ran away. "Grover will never be accepted! He will die an outcast!"

When he'd disappeared into the bushes, Juniper wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to get you involved. Leneus is still a lord of the Wild. You don't want to make an enemy of him."

"No problem," Percy said. "I've got worse enemies than overweight satyrs."

Nico walked back to them. "Good job, Percy. Judging from the trail of goat pellets, I'd say you shook him up pretty well."

Percy must've had an idea of why Nico was there, but he managed a smile. "Welcome back. Did you just come by to say hi?"

"Of course he didn't," Naomi muttered. "That's not his style."

"Wait, Nico," Juniper said. "You're the son of Hades and all. Are you sure you haven't heard anything about Grover?"

Nico shifted his weight. "Juniper... even if Grover died, he would reincarnate into something else in nature. I can't sense things like that, only mortal souls."

"But if you do hear anything?" she pleaded, putting her hand on his arm. "Anything at all?"

Nico's cheeks were red. "Uh, you bet. I'll keep my ears open."

"We'll find him, Juniper," Percy promised. "Grover's alive, I'm sure. There must be a simple reason why he hasn't contacted us."

She nodded glumly. "I hate not being able to leave the forest. He could be anywhere, and I'm stuck here waiting. Oh, if that silly goat has gotten himself hurt—"

Mrs. O'Leary bounded back over and took an interest in Juniper's dress.

Juniper yelped. "Oh, no you don't! I know about dogs and trees. I'm gone!"

She went poof into green mist. Mrs. O'Leary looked disappointed, but she lumbered back toward Skia, and the two set off to find another target, leaving Naomi, Nico, and Percy alone in the clearing.

Chapter 95: iv. naomi and friends visit a crazy lady

Chapter Text

NICO TAPPED HIS SWORD on the ground. A tiny mound of animal bones erupted from the dirt. They knitted themselves together into a skeletal field mouse and scampered off. "I was sorry to hear about Beckendorf."

Percy's voice was tight as he asked, "How did you—"

"I talked to his ghost."

"Oh... right," Percy said. "Did he say anything?"

"He doesn't blame you. He figured you'd be beating yourself up, and he said you shouldn't."

"Is he going to try for rebirth?" Naomi asked softly.

Nico shook his head. "He's staying in Elysium. Said he's waiting for someone. Not sure what he meant, but he seems okay with death."

It wasn't much comfort, but it was better than nothing.

"I had a vision you were on Mount Tam," Percy told Nico. "Was that—"

"Real," he said. "I didn't mean to be spying on the Titans, but I was in the neighborhood."

"Doing what?"

Nico tugged at his sword belt. "Following a lead on... you know, my family."

"How'd it go?" Naomi asked. "Any luck?"

"No," he murmured. "But I may have a new lead soon."

"What's the lead?"

Nico chewed on his lip. "That's not important," he said. He looked at Percy. "You know why I'm here."

Percy looked from Nico to Naomi, his expression hesitant. "Nico, I don't know," he said. "It seems pretty extreme."

"Try incredibly extreme," Naomi muttered. "And more than a little stupid."

Nico glared at her, then looked back at Percy. "You've got Typhon coming in what... a week? Most of the other Titans are unleashed now and on Kronos's side. Maybe it's time to think extreme."

Percy looked back toward the camp.

"They're no match for the Titan army," Nico said. "You know that. This comes down to you and Luke. And there's only one way you can beat Luke."

Percy still looked unsure.

"We can give you the same power," Nico urged. "You heard the Great Prophecy. Unless you want to have your soul reaped by a cursed blade..."

Naomi wondered how Nico had heard the prophecy—maybe from a ghost, or maybe even from Hades.

"You can't prevent a prophecy," Percy said.

Perseus and Annabeth will live.

Naomi's throat felt tight.

"But you can fight it." Nico had a strange, hungry light in his eyes. "You can become invincible."

"Maybe we should wait," Naomi suggested nervously. "Try to—"

"No!" Nico snarled. "It has to be now!"

Naomi stared at him. She hadn't seen his temper flare like that in a long time. "Nico, are you sure you're okay?"

He took a deep breath. "Look, all I mean... when the fighting starts, we won't be able to make the journey. This is our last chance. I'm sorry if I'm being too pushy, Percy, but two years ago my sister gave her life to protect you. I want you to honor that. Do whatever it takes to stay alive and defeat Kronos."

Percy's expression was conflicted, but finally, he said, "All right. What do we do first?"

Nico's cold, creepy smile made Naomi nervous. "First, we'll need to retrace Luke's steps. We need to know more about his past, his childhood."

Percy shuddered. "Why do we need to know about that?"

"I'll explain when we get there," Nico said. "I've already tracked down his mother. She lives in Connecticut."

Percy frowned. "Luke ran away when he was really young," he said. "I didn't think his mom was alive."

"Oh, she's alive." The way Nico said it made Naomi wonder what was wrong with Luke's mother. What kind of horrible person could she be?

"Okay," Percy said. "So, how do we get to Connecticut?"

Nico met Naomi's eyes. "Leave that to us."

Naomi sighed, then whistled for Skia and Mrs. O'Leary.

"We should only bring one," Nico said. "Easier that way."

Naomi nodded. She scratched Skia's head. "Go back to the Underworld, girl," she said. "Go play with Cerberus."

Skia licked her face as a goodbye, then ran into the nearest shadows, disappearing in an instant.

Percy groaned. "Let me guess—we're doing that freaky shadow thing aren't we?" he asked Naomi.

She managed a smile. "Quickest way." She looked at Nico. "Where're we going? I need a location."

"Mrs. O'Leary'll find it," Nico said. "You might strand us in Canada."

"Canada?" Percy asked.

Naomi narrowed her eyes at her stepbrother. "At least my mistake-landings are still on the right continent," she said. "Don't think I didn't hear about your little misadventure in Chile."

Nico glared at her. "Just get on the hellhound, culo."

"Watch your language," Naomi said.

"You don't even speak Italian," Nico argued. "How do you know that was a swear word?"

"I know it wasn't a nice word."

Nico rolled his eyes. "Just go. We're burning daylight."

Naomi huffed, then climbed onto Mrs. O'Leary's back. Percy climbed on behind her, and Naomi tried to ignore the fact that he was right there.

Then he wrapped his arms around her, and she realized it was a lost cause.

"Tell her Westport, the home of May Castellan," Nico told them. "I'll meet you there."

Naomi leaned down to Mrs. O'Leary's ear. "Westport, Connecticut, girl," she said softly. "May Castellan's house."

Mrs. O'Leary sniffed the air. She looked into the gloom of the forest, then bounded forward, straight into an oak tree.

They emerged from a shadow on a cliff in the woods of Connecticut. Well, Naomi assumed it was Connecticut, at least. Down one side of the cliff, a highway cut through a ravine. Down the other side was someone's backyard. The property was huge—more wilderness than lawn. The house was a white colonial-style two-story. Despite the fact that it was right on the other side of the hill from a highway, it felt like it was in the middle of nowhere. Naomi could see a light glowing in the kitchen window. A rusty old swing set stood under an apple tree.

Mrs. O'Leary staggered. Naomi and Percy climbed off her back, and she let out a huge toothy yawn that would've scared a T-Rex, then turned in a circle and flopped down so hard the ground shook.

Nico appeared right next to them. He stumbled and Naomi caught his arm.

"I'm okay," he managed, rubbing his eyes.

Naomi passed him a piece of ambrosia. "Keep practicing," she told him.

"Says the natural," Nico muttered.

Naomi smirked a little. It was nice to be better at something than a child of the Big Three, even if she couldn't explain why she was better. She figured it was because of the whole Umbra Electi thing.

"Are you going to take a nap, too?" Percy asked Nico.

He shook his head. "The first time I shadow-traveled, I passed out for a week. Now it just makes me a little drowsy, but I can't do it more than once or twice a night. Mrs. O'Leary won't be going anywhere for a while."

"That's why you've got me," Naomi said with a grin. "It's like you've only got a permit and I've got a full license."

Nico narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't even know how to drive."

"I don't need to," Naomi said. "I've got shadows."

Nico rolled her eyes. "Come on," he said. "Let's go see Ms. Castellan."

Even before they made it to the front door, Naomi knew May Castellan was the strangest mortal she'd ever meet. It was evident in the abundance of weird knickknacks and beanbag creatures lining the sidewalk. There were miniature lions, pigs, dragons, hydras, even a teeny Minotaur in a little Minotaur diaper. Judging from their sad shape, the beanbag creatures had been sitting out there a long time—since the snow melted last spring at least. One of the hydra's had a tree sapling sprouting between its necks.

The front porch was infested with wind chimes. Shiny bits of glass and metal clinked in the breeze. Brass ribbons tinkled like water. Naomi wondered how May Castellan could stand all the noise.

The front door was painted a garish turquoise that would've made Drew gag. The name CASTELLAN was written in English, and below in Greek: Διοικητής φρουρίου.

Nico looked at them. "Ready?"

He'd barely tapped the door when it swung open.

"Luke!" the old lady cried happily.

She looked... well, for lack of a kinder word, crazy. Her white hair stuck out in tufts all over her head. Her pink house-dress was covered in scorch marks and smears of ash. When she smiled, her face looked unnaturally stretched, and the high-voltage light in her eyes made Naomi wonder if the old woman was blind.

"Oh, my dear boy!" She hugged Nico. Naomi was trying to figure out why she thought Nico was Luke (they couldn't have looked more different if they tried) when she smiled at Percy and said, "Luke!"

She forgot all about Nico and gave Percy a hug.

Thankfully, she either didn't notice Naomi, or purposefully ignored her. Naomi figured even her addled mind would have trouble thinking Naomi was Luke, since she was a full foot shorter and... well, a girl.

"Come in!" she insisted. "I have your lunch ready!"

She ushered the trio inside. The living room was somehow weirder than the front lawn. Mirrors and candles filled every available space. Naomi couldn't look anywhere without seeing her reflection. Above the mantle, a little bronze Hermes flew around the second hand of a ticking clock.

Then Naomi spotted the framed picture on the mantle. It was Luke, maybe around nine years old, with blond hair and a big smile and two missing teeth. The lack of a scar on his face made him look like a different person—carefree and happy.

"This way, my dear!" Ms. Castellan steered Percy toward the back of the house, Nico and Naomi close behind them. "Oh, I told them you would come back! I knew it!"

She sat them down at the kitchen table. Stacked on the counter were hundreds—seriously, hundreds—of Tupperware boxes with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches inside. The ones on the bottom were green and fuzzy, like they'd been there for a long time.

Naomi had to fight the urge to gag.

On top of the oven was a stack of cookie sheets. Each one had a dozen burnt cookies on it. In the sink was a mountain of empty plastic Kool-Aid pitchers. A beanbag Medusa sat by the faucet like she was guarding the mess.

Ms. Castellan started humming as she got peanut butter and jelly and started making a new sandwich. Something was burning in the oven.

Above the sink, taped all around the window, were dozens of little pictures cut from magazines and newspaper ads—pictures of Hermes from the FTD Flowers logo and Quickie Cleaners, pictures of the caduceus from medical ads.

Naomi's heart sank.

Nico coughed. "Um, Ms. Castellan?"

"Mm?"

"We need to ask about your son."

"Oh, yes! They told me he would never come back. But I knew better." She patted Percy's cheek affectionately, giving him peanut butter racing stripes.

"When did you last see him?" Nico asked.

Her eyes lost focus.

"He was so young when he left," she said wistfully. "Third grade. That's too young to run away! He said he'd be back for lunch. And I waited. He likes peanut butter sandwiches and cookies and Kool-Aid. He'll be back for lunch very soon..." Then she looked at Percy and smiled. "Why, Luke, there you are! You look so handsome. You have your father's eyes."

She turned toward the pictures of Hermes above the sink. "Now, there's a good man. Yes, indeed. He comes to visit me, you know."

The clock kept ticking in the other room. Percy wiped his cheek and looked at Nico pleadingly, like Can we get out of here now?

"Ma'am," Nico said. "What, uh... what happened to your eyes?"

Her gaze seemed fractured—like she was trying to focus on him through a kaleidoscope. "Why, Luke, you know the story. It was right before you were born, wasn't it? I'd always been special, able to see through the... whatever-they-call-it."

"The Mist?" Percy said.

"Yes, dear." She nodded encouragingly. "And they offered me an important job. That's how special I was!"

Naomi glanced at Nico, but he looked as confused as she was. Percy, too.

"What sort of job?" Percy asked. "What happened?"

Ms. Castellan frowned. Her knife hovered over the sandwich bread. "Dear me, it didn't work out, did it? Your father warned me not to try. He said it was too dangerous. But I had to. It was my destiny! And now... I still can't get the images out of my head. They make everything seem so fuzzy. Would you like some cookies?"

She pulled a tray out of the oven and dumped a dozen lumps of chocolate chip charcoal on the table.

"Luke was so kind," Ms. Castellan murmured. "He left to protect me, you know. He said if he went away, the monsters wouldn't threaten me. But I told him the monsters are no threat! They sit outside on the sidewalk all day, and they never come in." She picked up the little stuffed Medusa from the windowsill. "Do they, Mrs. Medusa? No, no threat at all." She beamed at Percy. "I'm so glad you came home. I knew you weren't ashamed of me!"

Percy shifted in his seat.

"Ms. Castellan," he said.

"Mom," she corrected.

"Um, yeah. Have you seen Luke since he left home?"

"Well, of course!"

Nico sat forward expectantly. "When?" he asked. "When did Luke visit you last?"

"Well, it was... Oh goodness..." A shadow passed across her face. "The last time, he looked so different. A scar. A terrible scar, and his voice so full of pain..."

"His eyes," Percy said. "Were they gold?"

"Gold?" She blinked. "No. How silly. Luke has blue eyes. Beautiful blue eyes!"

So Luke really had been here, before last summer—before he'd turned into Kronos.

"Ms. Castellan?" Nico put his hand on the old woman's arm. "This is very important. Did he ask you for anything?"

She frowned as if trying to remember. "My—my blessing. Isn't that sweet?" She looked at them uncertainly. "He was going to a river, and he said he needed my blessing. I gave it to him. Of course I did."

Nico looked at Percy and Naomi triumphantly. "Thank you, ma'am. That's all the information we—"

Ms. Castellan gasped. She doubled over, and her cookie tray clattered to the floor. The demigods jumped to their feet.

"Ms. Castellan?" Naomi said.

"AHHHH." She straightened. Naomi stumbled back. Ms. Castellan's eyes were glowing an eerie, frightening green.

"My child," she rasped in a much deeper voice. "Must protect him! Hermes, help! Not my child! Not his fate—no!"

She grabbed Nico by the shoulders and began to shake him as if trying to make him understand. "Not his fate!"

Nico made a strangled scream and pushed her away. He gripped the hilt of his sword. "Guys, we need to get out—"

Suddenly Ms. Castellan collapsed. Percy lurched forward and caught her before she could hit the edge of the table. He managed to get her into a chair.

"Ms. C?" he asked.

She muttered something incomprehensible and shook her head. "Goodness. I... I dropped the cookies. How silly of me."

She blinked, and her eyes were back to normal—or at least, what they had been before. The green glow was gone.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked.

"Well, of course, dear. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

Naomi glanced at Nico, who mouthed, Leave.

"Ms. C, you were telling us something," Percy said. "Something about your son."

"Was I?" she said dreamily. "Yes, his blue eyes. We were talking about his blue eyes. Such a handsome boy!"

"We have to go," Nico said urgently. "We'll tell Luke... uh, we'll tell him you said hello."

"But you can't leave!" Ms. Castellan got shakily to her feet, and Percy backed away warily.

"Hermes will be here soon," she promised. "He'll want to see his boy!"

"Maybe next time," Percy said. "Thank you for—" He looked down at the burnt cookies scattered on the floor. "Thanks for everything."

She tried to stop them, to offer them Kool-Aid, but they had to get out of there. On the front porch, she grabbed Percy's wrist. "Luke, at least be safe. Promise me you'll be safe."

"I will... Mom."

That made her smile. She released his wrist, and as she closed the front door, Naomi could hear her talking to the candles: "You hear that? He will be safe. I told you he would be!"

As they door shut, Naomi, Nico, and Percy ran. The little beanbag animals on the sidewalk seemed to grin at them as they passed.

Chapter 96: v. fatal flaw

Chapter Text

BACK AT THE CLIFF, Mrs. O'Leary had found a friend.

A cozy campfire crackled in a ring of stones. A girl about eight years old was sitting cross-legged next to Mrs. O'Leary, scratching the hellhound's ears.

The girl had mousy brown hair and a simple brown dress. She wore a scarf over her head so she looked like a pioneer kid—like the ghost of Little House on the Prairie or something. She poked the fire with a stick, and it seemed to glow more richly red than a normal fire.

"Hello," she said.

To Naomi's surprise, Nico bowed to the little girl. "Hello again, Lady."

She studied Percy and Naomi with eyes as red as firelight. The two decided it was best to bow.

"Sit, Percy Jackson, Naomi Sakura," she said. "Would you like some dinner?"

After staring at moldy peanut butter sandwiches and burnt cookies, Naomi didn't have much of an appetite, but the girl waved her hand and a picnic appeared at the edge of the fire. There were plates of roast beef, baked potatoes, buttered carrots, fresh bread, and a whole bunch of other foods Naomi hadn't had in a long time. Naomi's stomach growled. It was the kind of home-cooked meal people are supposed to have, but never do. The girl even made a five-foot-long dog biscuit appear for Mrs. O'Leary, who happily began tearing it to shreds.

Naomi sat down between Nico and Percy. They picked up their food.

Partly out of instinct, partly out of muscle memory, Naomi scraped part of her meal into the flames, just like they did at camp. "For the gods."

The little girl smiled. "Thank you. As tender of the flame, I get a share of every sacrifice, you know."

"I recognize you now," Percy said. "The first time I came to camp, you were sitting by the fire, in the middle of the commons area."

"You did not stop to talk," the girl recalled sadly. "Alas, most never do. Nico talked to me. He was the first in many years. Everyone rushes about. No time for visiting family."

"You're Hestia," Naomi realized, and her heart dropped. "The goddess of the hearth."

Darkness unbound snuffs out the flames.

Hestia fixed her all-knowing eyes on Naomi. There was no anger in them, nor apprehension. She was only observing her, like she was half-curious, half-sympathetic.

"I am, Naomi."

"My lady," Nico asked, "why aren't you with the other Olympians fighting Typhon?"

"I'm not much for fighting." Her red eyes flickered. Naomi realized they weren't just reflecting the flames—they were filled with flames. Though these flames were warm and cozy compared to Ares's fiery glare.

"Besides," she said, "someone has to keep the home fires burning while the other gods are away."

Her eyes remained on Naomi. She almost wished the goddess would glare—it would've made her feel less like a total monster for considering the mysterious voice's offer.

"So you're guarding Mount Olympus?" Percy asked.

"'Guard' may be too strong a word. But if you ever need a warm place to sit and a home-cooked meal, you are welcome to visit. Now eat."

Before Naomi knew it, her plate was empty. Percy and Nico scarfed their meals down just as fast.

"That was great," Percy said. "Thank you, Hestia."

She nodded. "Did you have a good visit with May Castellan?"

Percy nodded slowly. "What's wrong with her exactly?"

"She was born with a gift," Hestia said. "She could see through the Mist."

"Like my mother," Percy said. "But the glowing-eyes thing—"

"Some bear the curse of sight better than others," the goddess said sadly. "For a while, May Castellan had many talents. She attracted the attention of Hermes himself. They had a beautiful baby boy. For a brief time, she was happy. And then she went too far."

Naomi remembered what Ms. Castellan had said: They offered me an important job... It didn't work out. What kind of job could leave a person like that?

"One minute she was all happy," Percy said. "And then she was freaking out about her son's fate, like she knew he'd turned into Kronos. What happened to... to divide her like that?"

The goddess's face darkened. "That is a story I do not like to tell. But May Castellan saw too much. If you are to understand your enemy Luke, you must understand his family."

"No wonder Luke ran away," Percy said. "I mean, it wasn't right to leave his mom like that, but still—he was just a kid. Hermes shouldn't have abandoned them."

Hestia scratched behind Mrs. O'Leary's ears. The hellhound wagged her tail and accidentally knocked over a tree.

"It's easy to judge others," Hestia warned. "But will you follow Luke's path? Seek the same powers?"

Nico set down his plate. "We have no choice, my lady. It's the only way Percy stands a chance."

"Mmm." Hestia opened her hand and the fire roared. Flames shot thirty feet into the air. Naomi flinched back as the heat hit her. Then the fire died back down to normal.

"Not all powers are spectacular." Hestia looked at Naomi, then tore her eyes away to look at Percy. "Sometimes the hardest power to master is the power of yielding. Do you believe me?"

"Uh-huh," Percy said warily.

The goddess smiled. "You are a good hero, Percy Jackson. Not too proud. I like that. But you have much to learn. When Dionysus was made a god, I gave up my throne for him. It was the only way to avoid a civil war among the gods."

"It unbalanced the Council," Percy recalled. "Suddenly there were seven guys and five girls."

Hestia shrugged. "It was the best solution, not a perfect one. Now I tend the fire. I fade slowly into the background. No one will ever write epic poems about the deeds of Hestia. Most demigods don't even stop to talk to me. But that is no matter. I keep the peace. I yield when necessary. Can you do this?"

"I don't know what you mean."

She studied him. "Perhaps not yet. But soon. Will you continue your quest?"

"Is that why you're here—to warn me against going?"

Hestia shook her head. "I am here because when all else fails, when all the other mighty gods have gone off to war, I am all that's left. Home. Hearth. I am the last Olympian. You must remember me when you face your final decision."

She looked at Naomi, and Naomi knew she was talking to her, too.

Percy looked at Nico, then Naomi, then back to Hestia's warm glowing eyes. "I have to continue, my lady. I have to stop Luke—I mean Kronos."

Hestia nodded. "Very well." She settled her gaze onto Naomi once more. "Walk with me a moment, dear?"

Naomi's throat closed up, but she knew better than to deny a god—even a god as kind-seeming as Hestia.

She nodded, standing up on shaky legs.

Hestia smiled softly at Percy and Nico. "We won't be long," she promised. "Rest for a moment."

Percy watched the pair go, his brow furrowed with worry.

The girl and the goddess walked side-by-side for over a minute in complete silence. Naomi fidgeted with her fingers, the way she tended to do when she was particularly nervous.

Unsurprisingly, the goddess seemed to pick up on her wariness.

"There is no need to be afraid of me," she murmured gently. "Nor is there a reason for me to be afraid of you."

Naomi was pretty sure the second part didn't need saying.

Or maybe it did.

"You know the Great Prophecy," Naomi said softly.

"I do," Hestia agreed. "And I know the offer that's been made to you."

Perseus and Annabeth will live.

"It was supposed to be an easy choice," Naomi whispered. "How did it get this hard this fast?"

Hestia's expression was sympathetic. "No choice this grave can ever be simple."

Naomi sighed. "Guess I should have expected it."

The goddess hummed in agreement. Then, she said, "I've been watching you, you know."

Naomi chewed on her lip. "Because of the prophecy?"

"No," the goddess answered. "I am the goddess of the home, but when I see a child without one—I like to keep an eye on them."

Naomi's chest twisted.

"You've been an orphan for most of your life," Hestia murmured gently. She stopped, looking out at the landscape below them from the edge of the cliff—the wilderness, May Castellan's house, the horizon. "Even when you learned the truth of your parentage, you still struggled with finding your place in this world."

Hestia turned her gaze to study Naomi. She loathed to think of what the goddess saw.

"Have you ever wondered what your fatal flaw was, dear?"

The question caught Naomi off-guard. She knew Annabeth's was hubris, and Percy's was his unfailing loyalty to those he loved, but in all honesty, Naomi had never given much thought to her own.

"No," she admitted.

"I believe it may be idealism," Hestia told her.

"I... I don't understand."

Hestia's gaze was as gentle as every other aspect of her. "You believe the world is kind at its core, that there is good in everyone," she murmured. "It is an admirable flaw, but a flaw still. You would put yourself in danger believing that your opponent does not wish you harm." She watched Naomi for a silent moment, as if she could see Naomi's thoughts turn to Ethan. "You crave a perfect world so badly that you would sacrifice just about anything for a truly happy ending, including yourself."

Perseus and Annabeth will live.

"Was it the truth?" Naomi whispered, her throat tight. "What the voice promised? If... If I joined Kronos, would Percy and Annabeth live?"

"I am not the Oracle," Hestia told her, "nor its guard. I cannot speak of what may or may not be. But an oath on the River Styx is not a pleasant thing to break. No being, divine or otherwise, would make it carelessly."

Naomi's heart twisted again. She swore it was going to rip itself in half one of these days.

"I can't lose them," Naomi whispered. A tear traced down her cheek. "It would destroy me."

"They are your family," Hestia murmured. "And they are fragile. All mortals are, dear."

Including you.

"I want to do the right thing." Naomi's voice cracked. "I just don't know if I'm strong enough to do it anymore."

"It is a choice you will have to make for yourself, when the time comes," Hestia said. "The Titans believe it is your destiny to snuff my hearth. The gods pray it is something else."

"Your hearth?" Naomi asked, though she already knew the answer. "On Olympus?"

Hestia nodded. She didn't look scared, or angry, or even sad. "If the city falls, it is the last hope my brethren will have of survival," she told Naomi. "When the last ember goes out, the gods will have no tether left to this world. No magic could undo it. That is the final step of the Titans' plans—their finale ultimo."

Naomi stared at the goddess. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because you have been kept in the dark for long enough," Hestia murmured. "If you are to make your choice, you must understand each option. It is only right."

Naomi chewed on her lip. "Wouldn't it be easier to kill me now?" she asked, her voice barely loud enough to qualify as a whisper.

"I am not a killer," Hestia said.

"I'm sure you could ask one of the gods to do it," Naomi mumbled. "At least half of them would be happy to."

"It would not guarantee their safety," Hestia said. "Prophecies cannot be circumvented—only postponed. And this fate will wait no longer."

Naomi drew a shaky breath. She looked over the edge of the cliff.

If she was stronger, or maybe weaker, she would let herself fall off. She would throw the decision into the wind and let gravity do its job. There would be people to mourn her if she died like this—sacrificing herself to keep Olympus intact.

There would be no one to mourn her if she betrayed her friends—her family.

"Why would you tell me all of this?" she asked breathlessly. "Why would you tell me how to bring down the gods, knowing there was a chance I might do it?"

"I have faith," Hestia told her. "Whether it is blind or not—that remains to be seen." She reached up—she was a few inches shorter than Naomi—and placed her hand on Naomi's arm.

"Heed this force's words, but heed mine, too," Hestia said softly. "Whoever's voice this is—they may promise to keep Percy and Annabeth alive, but there are far worse fates than death. Remember that."

She turned away from the cliffside, and after a moment, Naomi tore her gaze away from the horizon.

"Come," the goddess murmured. "Let us return to your friends. We've kept them waiting long enough."

But she paused, lingering for a moment at the cliff's edge. Naomi watched, waiting.

"The day you were born," Hestia said after a moment, "the Fates paid you and your parents a visit. You were given a terrible fate, Naomi Sakura—a fate I would never wish upon any demigod. A wanderer such as yourself... I fear you may never find a true home. Not in the way you wish."

She touched Naomi's cheek. Her hand was warm against Naomi's tear-stained cheek. "I pray I am wrong about that."

Then she began to walk back toward the campfire.

Naomi wiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her jacket, and after a deep, painful breath, she turned to follow.

Hestia magically transported them into Percy's living room. One second, the goddess was saying goodbye, the next, Nico, Percy, and Naomi were sitting on Sally Jackson's couch, the rest of the living room occupied by Mrs. O'Leary.

There was a muffled yell from the bedroom. Percy's stepdad, Paul, said, "Who put this wall of fur in the doorway?"

"Percy?" his mother called out. "Are you here? Are you all right?"

"I'm here!" Percy shouted back.

"WOOF!" Mrs. O'Leary tried to turn in a circle to find Sally, knocking all the pictures off the walls.

It took a few minutes, but they finally got things worked out. After destroying most of the furniture in the living room and probably pissing off most of the neighbors, they got Percy's parents out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, where they all sat around the table.

Mrs. O'Leary still took up the entire living room, but she'd settled her head in the kitchen doorway so she could see them, which made her happy. Sally tossed her a ten-pound pack of ground beef, which disappeared down her gullet. Paul poured lemonade for the rest of them while Percy explained their visit to Connecticut.

"So it's true." Paul stared at Percy like he'd never seen him before. He was wearing his white bathrobe, now covered in hellhound fur, and his salt-and-pepper hair was sticking up in every direction. "All the talk about monsters, and being a demigod... it's really true."

Percy nodded. "Sorry about Mrs. O'Leary," he said, "destroying the living room and all."

Paul laughed like he was delighted. "Are you kidding? This is awesome! I mean, when I saw the hoofprints on the Prius, I thought maybe. But this!"

He patted Mrs. O'Leary's snout. The living room shook—BOOM, BOOM, BOOM—which either meant a SWAT team was breaking down the door or Mrs. O'Leary was wagging her tail.

"Thanks for not freaking out," Percy said.

"Oh, I'm freaking out," he promised, his eyes wide. "I just think it's awesome."

"Yeah, well," Percy said, "you may not be so excited when you hear what's happening."

He told Paul and Sally about Typhon, and the gods, and the battle that was sure to come. Then he told them Nico's plan.

Sally laced her fingers around her lemonade glass. She was wearing her old blue flannel bathrobe and her hair was tied back. She took a deep breath, like she was thinking of how to say no.

"Percy, it's dangerous," she said. "Even for you."

"Mom, I know. I could die. Nico explained that. But if we don't try—"

"We'll all die," Nico said. He hadn't touched his lemonade. "Ms. Jackson, we don't stand a chance against an invasion. And there will be an invasion."

"An invasion of New York?" Paul said. "Is that even possible? How could we not see the... the monsters?"

He said the word like he still couldn't believe this was real.

"I don't know," Percy admitted. "I don't see how Kronos could just march into Manhattan, but the Mist is strong. Typhon is trampling across the country right now, and mortals think he's a storm system."

"Ms. Jackson," Nico said, "Percy needs your blessing. The process has to start that way. I wasn't sure until we met Luke's mom, but now I'm positive. This has only been done successfully twice before. Both times, the mother had to give her blessing. She had to be willing to let her son take the risk."

"You want me to bless this?" She shook her head. "It's crazy. Percy, please—"

"Mom, I can't do it without you."

"And if you survive this... this process?"

"Then I go to war," he said. "Me against Kronos. And only one of us will survive."

Naomi's heart climbed into her throat. The more they talked about the plan, the more she wished Nico had never thought of it. There were too many things that could go wrong, too many ways everything could end in more misery than the Fates already had planned for them.

"You're my son," Sally said miserably. "I can't just..."

Percy looked at Paul, and some kind of understanding passed between them.

"Sally." Paul put his hand over Sally's. "I can't claim to know what you and Percy have been going through all these years. But it sounds to me... it sounds like Percy is doing something noble. I wish I had that much courage."

Sally stared at her lemonade. She looked like she was trying not to cry.

Then she closed her eyes. Quietly, she said, "Percy... I give you my blessing."

Percy looked at Nico.

He looked more anxious than ever, but he nodded. "It's time."

"Percy," Sally said. "One last thing. If you—if you survive this fight with Kronos, send me a sign." She rummaged through her bag and handed him her cell phone.

"Mom," he said, "you know demigods and phones—"

"I know," she said. "But just in case. If you're not able to call... maybe a sign that I could see from anywhere in Manhattan. To let me know you're okay."

"Like Theseus," Paul suggested. "He was supposed to raise white sails when he came home to Athens."

"Except he forgot," Nico muttered. "And his father jumped off the palace roof in despair. But other than that, it was a great idea."

Naomi glared at him. "Not helping," she hissed.

"What about a flag or a flare?" Sally said. "From Olympus—the Empire State Building."

"Something blue," Percy said.

"Yes," Sally agreed. "I'll watch for a blue signal. And I'll try to avoid jumping off palace roofs."

She gave Percy one last hug, and even pulled Naomi into one, which made her feel worse than she already did.

Perseus and Annabeth will live.

If Naomi had the power to ensure they survived, and something happened to them... how could Sally ever forgive her for not doing everything she could?

After saying their goodbyes, Nico, Percy, and Naomi walked to the kitchen doorway.

"Can you get us to the Underworld?" Percy asked Naomi.

She shook her head. "You have to be invited in by Hades or Persephone," she said. "Otherwise, you have to use a mortal entrance."

Percy sighed. "Los Angeles, then?"

Nico shook his head. "No need," he said. "There's a closer entrance to the Underworld."

Chapter 97: vi. hades is NOT getting a christmas gift this year

Chapter Text

THEY EMERGED IN CENTRAL PARK just north of the Pond. Mrs. O'Leary looked pretty tired as she limped over to a cluster of boulders. She started sniffing around, and at Percy's worried look, Nico said, "It's okay. She just smells the way home."

Percy frowned. "Through the rocks?"

"The Underworld has two major entrances," Naomi explained. "We went to the one in L.A., with Charon's ferry. That's the way most souls go, but there's a smaller path, harder to find. The Door of Orpheus."

"The dude with the harp," Percy said.

"The dude with the lyre," Nico corrected. "But, yeah, him. He used his music to charm the earth and open a new path into the Underworld. He sang his way right into Hades's palace and almost got away with his wife's soul."

The story of Orpheus and Eurydice had always been Naomi's favorite—not because it made her happy, of course. She cried every time she heard a new rendition of it, because it always ended the same: with Orpheus looking back.

Most people thought he was a fool for looking back and damning Eurydice to return back to the Underworld, but Naomi saw the story differently. Whichever version you read—whether Orpheus turned because he worried Eurydice wasn't following, or he turned because she tripped, or he turned because he'd been so excited to see her again he hadn't realized they both weren't out of the Underworld—the message was the same: his love for Eurydice was what made him turn.

Ovid had said, as Eurydice's soul was pulled back into the Underworld, What was there to complain of, but that she had been loved?

Naomi used to wonder what it felt like to love or be loved like that.

Now, she thought she understood.

"So this is the Door of Orpheus," Percy said. "How does it open?"

"We need music," Nico said. "Either of you good at singing?"

"Drew said her cat screaming while getting a bath sounds better than my singing," Naomi admitted sheepishly. "Percy?"

"Um, no," he said. "Can't you guys just, like, tell it to open? You're children of the Underworld and all."

"It's not so easy," Nico said. "We need music."

"I have a better idea," Percy decided. He turned and called, "GROVER!"

They waited for a long time. Mrs. O'Leary curled up and took a nap. Naomi could hear the crickets in the woods and an owl hooting. Traffic hummed along Central Park West. Horse hooves clopped down a nearby path—maybe a mounted police patrol. Naomi was sure they'd love to find three kids hanging out in the park at one in the morning.

"It's no good," Nico said at last.

Percy shut his eyes, the space between his brows wrinkling in concentration. A few moments later, he almost fell over.

"What happened?" Naomi asked, holding his arm to steady him.

"I got through," Percy said. "He's... yeah. He's on his way."

A minute later, the tree next to them shivered. Grover fell out of the branches, right on his head.

"Grover!" Perch yelled.

"Woof!" Mrs. O'Leary looked up, probably wondering if they were going to play fetch with the satyr.

"Blah-haa-haa!" Grover bleated.

"You okay?" Naomi asked.

"Oh, I'm fine." He rubbed his head. His horns had grown so much they poked right out of his curly hair. "I was at the other end of the park. The dryads had this great idea of passing me through the trees to get me here. They don't understand height very well."

He grinned and got to his feet—well, his hooves, technically. Since last summer, Grover had stopped trying to disguise himself as human. He never wore a cap or fake feet anymore. He didn't even wear jeans, since he had furry goat legs from the waist down. His T-shirt had a picture from that book Where the Wild Things Are. It was covered with dirt and tree sap. His goatee looked fuller, almost manly (or goatly?), and he was as tall as Percy now.

"Good to see you, G-man," Percy said. "You remember Nico."

Grover nodded at Nico, then gave Percy and Naomi big hugs. He smelled like freshly mown lawns.

"I've missed you guys!" he said. "I miss camp. They don't serve very good enchiladas in the wilderness."

"We were worried," Percy said. "Where've you been the last two months?"

"The last two—" Grover's smile faded. "The last two months? What are you talking about?"

"We haven't heard from you," Percy said. "Juniper's worried. We sent Iris-messages, but—"

"Hold on." Grover looked up at the stars like he was trying to calculate his position. "What month is this?"

"August."

The color drained from his face. "That's impossible. It's June. I just lay down to take a nap and..." He grabbed Percy's arms. "I remember now! He knocked me out. Percy, we have to stop him!"

"Whoa," Percy said. "Slow down. Tell us what happened."

He took a deep breath. "I was... I was walking in the woods up by Harlem Meer. And I felt this tremble in the ground, like something powerful was near."

"You can sense stuff like that?" Nico asked.

Grover nodded. "Since Pan's death, I can feel when something is wrong in nature. It's like my ears and eyes are sharper when I'm in the wild. Anyway, I started following the scent. This man in a long black coat was walking through the park, and I noticed he didn't cast a shadow. Middle of a sunny day, and he cast no shadow. He kind of shimmered as he moved."

"Like a mirage?" Nico asked.

"Yes," Grover said. "And whenever he passed humans—"

"The humans would pass out," Nico said. "Curl up and go to sleep."

"That's right! Then after he was gone, they'd get up and go about their business like nothing happened."

Naomi stared at Nico. "You know this guy in black?"

"Afraid so," Nico said. "Grover, what happened?"

"I followed the guy. He kept looking up at the buildings around the park like he was making estimates or something. This lady jogger ran by, and she curled up on the sidewalk and started snoring. The guy in black put his hand on her forehead like he was checking her temperature. Then he kept walking. By this time, I knew he was a monster or something even worse. I followed him into this grove, to the base of a big elm tree. I was about to summon some dryads to help me capture him when he turned and..."

Grover swallowed. "His face. I couldn't make out his face because it kept shifting. Just looking at him made me sleepy. I said, 'What are you doing?' He said, 'Just having a look around. You should always scout a battlefield before the battle.' I said something really smart like, 'This forest is under my protection. You won't start any battles here!' And he laughed. He said, 'You're lucky I'm saving my energy for the main event, little satyr. I'll just grant you a short nap. Pleasant dreams.' And that's the last thing I remember."

Nico exhaled. "Grover, you met Morpheus, the God of Dreams. You're lucky you ever woke up."

"Two months," Grover moaned. "He put me to sleep for two months!"

"Why didn't the nymphs try to wake you?" Percy asked.

Grover shrugged. "Most nymphs aren't good with time. Two months for a tree—that's nothing. They probably didn't think anything was wrong."

"We've got to figure out what Morpheus was doing in the park," Percy said. "I don't like this 'main event' thing he mentioned."

"He's working for Kronos," Nico said. "We know that already. A lot of the minor gods are. This just proves there's going to be an invasion. Percy, we have to get on with our plan."

"Wait," Grover said. "What plan?"

They told him, and Grover started tugging at his leg fur.

"You're not serious," he said. "Not the Underworld again."

"I'm not asking you to come, man," Percy promised. "I know you just woke up. But we need some music to open the door. Can you do it?"

Grover took out his reed pipes. "I guess I could try. I know a few Nirvana tunes that can split rocks. But, Percy, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Please, man," Percy said. "It would mean a lot. For old times' sake?"

He whimpered. "As I recall, in the old times we almost died a lot. But okay, here goes nothing."

He put his pipes to his lips and played a shrill, lively tune. The boulders trembled. A few more stanzas, and they cracked open, revealing a triangular crevice.

Naomi looked inside. Steps led down into the darkness, the air rich with the smell of mildew and death.

Percy turned to Grover. "Thanks... I think."

"Perrrrcy, is Kronos really going to invade?"

"I wish I could tell you better, but yeah. He will."

Naomi thought Grover might chew up his reed pipes in anxiety, but he straightened up and brushed off his T-shirt. "I've got to rally the nature spirits, then. Maybe we can help. I'll see if we can find this Morpheus.'"

"Better tell Juniper you're okay, too."

His eyes widened. "Juniper! Oh, she's going to kill me!"

He started to run off, then scrambled back and gave Percy one last hug. "Be careful down there! Come back alive!"

Once he was gone, they roused Mrs. O'Leary from her nap.

When she smelled the tunnel, she got excited and led the way down the steps.

"Ready?" Nico asked. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Percy.

Naomi took a deep breath, and the trio plunged into darkness.

The stairs went on forever—narrow, steep, and slippery. It was completely dark save for the light of Percy's sword.

They tried to move slowly, but Mrs. O'Leary had other ideas. She bounded ahead, barking happily. The sound echoed through the tunnel like cannon shots. They certainly didn't have the element of surprise—Naomi just hoped they wouldn't need it.

Nico lagged behind, which was strange.

"You okay?" Naomi asked him.

"Fine," he said. "Just keep moving."

Naomi and Percy didn't have much of a choice. They followed Mrs. O'Leary into the depths. As they walked, Naomi half-expected Skia to appear, sensing her presence in the Underworld, but there was no sign of the beast. Naomi hoped she was just busy playing with Cerberus.

After an hour of walking, Naomi started to hear the roar of a river.

They emerged at the base of a cliff, on a plain of black volcanic sand. To their right, the River Styx gushed from the rocks and roared off in a cascade of rapids. To their left, far away in the gloom, fires burned on the ramparts of Erebus, the great black walls of Hades' kingdom.

Like the first time they'd visited the Underworld, Percy reached for Naomi's hand. Naomi was too nervous about their plan to even notice the butterflies going crazy in her stomach.

Mrs. O'Leary ran along the beach, picked up a random human leg bone, and romped back toward them. She dropped the bone at Percy's feet and waited for him to throw it.

"Um, maybe later, girl." He stared at the dark waters. "So, Nico... how do we do this?"

"We have to go inside the gates first," Nico said.

"But the river's right here."

"I have to get something," he said. "It's the only way."

He marched off without waiting.

Naomi and Percy shared a look, but there wasn't much they could do except follow.

Lines of the dead stood outside waiting to get in. It must've been a heavy day for funerals, because even the EZ-DEATH line was backed up.

"WOOF!" Mrs. O'Leary said. Before anyone could stop her, she bounded toward the security checkpoint. Cerberus appeared out of the gloom, greeting Mrs. O'Leary. Naomi frowned—still no sign of Skia.

She wondered when it was appropriate to start worrying.

"Mrs. O'Leary, no!" Percy shouted at her. "Don't sniff—oh, man."

Nico smiled. Then he looked at them and his expression turned serious again, like he'd remembered something unpleasant. "Come on. They won't give us any trouble in the line."

They slipped through the security ghouls and into the Fields of Asphodel. Percy had to whistle for Mrs. O'Leary three times before she left Cerberus alone and ran after them.

They hiked over black fields of grass dotted with black poplar trees. Nico trudged ahead, bringing them closer and closer to the palace of Hades.

"Hey," Naomi called to him, "we're inside the gates already. Where are we—"

Mrs. O'Leary growled. A shadow appeared overhead—something dark, cold, and rotten. It swooped down and landed in the top of a poplar tree.

Unfortunately, Naomi recognized her. She had a shriveled face, a horrible blue knitted hat, and a crumpled velvet dress. Leathery bat wings sprang from her back. Her feet had sharp talons, and in her brass-clawed hands she held a flaming whip and a paisley handbag.

"Mrs. Dodds," Percy said.

She bared her fangs. "Welcome back, honey."

Her two sisters—the other Furies—swooped down and settled next to her in the branches of the poplar.

"You know Alecto?" Nico asked Percy.

"If you mean the hag in the middle, yeah," Percy said. "She was our math teacher."

Nico nodded, like he wasn't all that surprised. He looked up at the Furies and took a deep breath. "I've done what my father asked. Take us to the palace."

Percy tensed. "Wait a second, Nico. What do you—"

"I'm afraid this is my new lead, Percy. My father promised me information about my family, but he wants to see you before we try the river. I'm sorry."

"What?" Naomi demanded. "You lied?"

Percy lunged at Nico, but Mrs. Dodds/Alecto swooped down with superhuman speed and grabbed him by the arms. His sword fell out of his hand and hit the dark sand with a dull thud.

Before Naomi could properly react, the second Fury grabbed her, and in seconds she was dangling sixty feet in the air.

Mrs. O'Leary barked angrily and jumped, trying to reach Percy, but they were too high.

"Tell Mrs. O'Leary to behave," Nico warned. He was hovering as well in the clutches of the third Fury. "I don't want her to get hurt, Percy. My father is waiting. He just wants to talk."

Percy's jaw ticked. "Mrs. O'Leary, down! It's okay, girl."

She whimpered and turned in circles, looking up at him.

"All right, traitor," Percy growled at Nico. "You've got your prize. Take me to the stupid palace."

The Fury placed Naomi on her feet in the middle of the palace garden.

Mrs. Dodds, on the other hand, dropped Percy like a sack of turnips onto the ground.

Naomi had been in this garden plenty of times before, and it was just as beautifully strange as she remembered. Skeletal white trees grew from marble basins. Flowerbeds overflowed with golden plants and gemstones. A pair of thrones, one bone and one silver, sat on the balcony with a view of the Fields of Asphodel.

Skeletal warriors guarded the only exit. They wore tattered U.S. Army desert combat fatigues and carried M16s.

The third Fury deposited Nico next to Naomi. Then all three of them settled on the top of the skeletal throne.

At the empty thrones, the air shimmered. Three figures appeared—Hades and Persephone on their thrones and Demeter standing between them. They seemed to be in the middle of an argument.

"—told you he was a bum!" Demeter said.

"Mother!" Persephone replied.

"We have visitors!" Hades barked. "Please!"

Naomi's stepfather smoothed his black robes, which were covered with the terrified faces of the damned.

The annoyance in Persephone's expression melted into something softer as she laid eyes on her daughter. "Kore, it's so lovely to see you again."

Naomi narrowed her eyes. She was not in the mood for a mother-daughter reunion right now.

"Percy Jackson," Hades said with satisfaction. "At last."

"Humph," Demeter said. "More demigods. Just what we need."

Naomi frowned. "Nice to see you too, Grandmother."

Demeter's expression softened. "Oh, I don't mean you, dear," she said. "It's always lovely to see you. Your friends, on the other hand..."

Nico stepped forward, kneeling. "Father," he said. "I have done as you asked."

"Took you long enough," Hades grumbled. "Your sister would've done a better job."

Nico lowered his head. Despite the fact that he'd just betrayed them, Naomi couldn't help but feel bad for him.

Percy glared at the god of the dead. "What do you want, Hades?"

"To talk to you, of course." The god twisted his mouth in a cruel smile. "Didn't Nico tell you?"

"So this whole quest was a lie," Percy said. "Nico brought me down here to get me killed."

"Oh, no," Hades said. "I'm sure I'd never hear the end of it from my stepdaughter if I did such a thing. And I'm afraid Nico was quite sincere about wanting to help you. The boy is as honest as he is dense. I simply convinced him to take a small detour and bring you here first."

"Father," Nico said, "you promised that Percy would not be harmed. You said if I brought him and Naomi, you would tell me about my past—about my mother."

Persephone let out a dramatic sigh. "Can we please not talk about that woman in my presence?"

Naomi resisted the urge to call her own mother a hypocrite.

"I'm sorry, my dove," Hades said. "I had to promise the boy something."

Naomi's grandmother harrumphed. "I warned you, daughter. This scoundrel Hades is no good. You could've married the god of doctors or the god of lawyers, but noooo. You had to eat the pomegranate."

"Mother—"

"And here it is, August, and do you come home like you're supposed to? Do you ever think about your poor lonely mother?"

"DEMETER!" Hades shouted, clearly miffed. "That is enough. You are a guest in my house."

"Oh, a house is it?" she said. "You call this dump a house? Make my daughter live in this dark, damp—"

"I told you," Hades said, grinding his teeth, "there's a war in the world above. You, Persephone, and Naomi are better off here."

"Whoa, when did I get roped into this?" Naomi asked. "I'm not staying down here!"

"Well..." Persephone started to say, then thought better of it.

"Excuse me," Percy broke in, "but if you're going to kill me, could you just get on with it?"

Naomi smacked him in the arm as all three gods looked at him.

"Well, this one has an attitude," Demeter observed.

"Indeed," Hades agreed. "I'd love to kill him."

"Absolutely not!" Naomi shouted.

"Father," Nico said. "You promised!"

"Husband, we talked about this," Persephone chided. "You can't go around incinerating every hero. Besides, he's brave. I like that."

Hades rolled his eyes. "You liked that Orpheus fellow, too. Look how well that turned out. Let me kill him, just a little bit."

"Father, you promised!" Nico said. "You said you only wanted to talk to him! You said if I brought him, you'd explain."

Hades glowered, smoothing the folds of his robes. "And so I shall. Your mother—what can I tell you? She was a wonderful woman." He glanced uncomfortably at Persephone. "Forgive me, my dear. I mean for a mortal, of course. Her name was Maria di Angelo. She was from Venice, but her father was a diplomat in Washington, D.C. That's where I met her. When you and your sister were young, it was a bad time to be children of Hades. World War II was brewing. A few of my, ah, other children were leading the losing side. I thought it best to put you two out of harm's way."

"That's why you hid us in the Lotus Casino?"

Hades shrugged. "You didn't age. You didn't realize time was passing. I waited for the right time to bring you out."

"But what happened to our mother? Why don't I remember her?"

"Not important," Hades snapped.

"What? Of course it's important. And you had other children—why were we the only ones who were sent away? And who was the lawyer who got us out?"

Hades gritted his teeth. "You would do well to listen more and talk less, boy. As for the lawyer..."

Hades snapped his fingers. On top of his throne, the Fury Alecto began to change until she was a middle-aged man in a pinstriped suit with a briefcase.

"You!" Nico said.

The Fury cackled. "I do lawyers and teachers very well!"

Nico was trembling. "But why did you free us from the casino?"

"You know why," Hades said. "This idiot son of Poseidon cannot be allowed to be the child of the prophecy."

Percy plucked a ruby off the nearest plant and threw it at Hades. Not a very effective attack strategy, but okay. "You should be helping Olympus!" he said. "All the other gods are fighting Typhon, and you're just sitting here—"

"Waiting things out," Hades finished. "Yes, that's correct. When's the last time Olympus ever helped me, half-blood? When's the last time a child of mine was ever welcomed as a hero? Bah! Why should I rush out and help them? I'll stay here with my forces intact."

"And when Kronos comes after you?"

"Let him try. He'll be weakened. And my son here, Nico—" Hades looked at him with distaste. "Well, he's not much now, I'll grant you. It would've been better if Bianca had lived. But give him four more years of training. We can hold out that long, surely. Nico will turn sixteen, as the prophecy says, and then he will make the decision that will save the world. And I will be king of the gods."

"You're crazy," Percy said. "Kronos will crush you, right after he finishes pulverizing Olympus."

Hades spread his hands. "Well, you'll get a chance to find out, half-blood. Because you'll be waiting out this war in my dungeons."

"What?" Naomi demanded.

"No!" Nico said. "Father, that wasn't our agreement. And you haven't told me everything!"

"I've told you all you need to know," Hades said. "As for our agreement, I spoke with Jackson. I did not harm him. You got your information. If you wanted a better deal, you should've made me swear on the Styx. Now go to your room!" He waved his hand and Nico vanished.

"That boy needs to eat more," Demeter grumbled. "He's too skinny. He needs more cereal."

Persephone rolled her eyes. "Mother, enough with the cereal."

"Mom, you can't let him do this!" Naomi shouted.

Persephone considered her daughter for a moment, then looked at her husband. "My lord Hades, are you sure we can't let this little hero go? He's awfully brave."

"No, my dear. I've spared his life. That's enough."

Naomi looked pleadingly at her mother. "Mom, please."

Persephone's expression was gentle. "I'm sorry, Kore," she said. "Come—I'll show you to your room."

"My room?" Naomi demanded. "I'm not staying he—"

Before Naomi could finish her sentence, Persephone waved a hand, and she was transported out of the throne room.

Chapter 98: vii. the first (and maybe the last)

Chapter Text

NAOMI AND HER MOTHER APPEARED IN A BEDROOM that looked nothing like her old one. It was a very large, very Underworld-y bedroom, with obsidian furniture and marble floors. Laying on a dog-bed that took up a quarter of the huge room was Skia, who popped up as soon as she spotted Naomi, running to greet her.

Naomi scratched Skia's ears, but she maintained a glare at her mother. "Where are we?" she demanded.

"Your new bedroom," Persephone said. "Your grandmother and I just finished up the renovations. Do you like it?"

Naomi could clearly see her mom and grandmother's touches throughout the black room—every windowsill had a plant-box with flowers already growing out of them, and the bedding was a deep, pomegranate pink with black designs of flowers and vines.

But it could've been the world's best bedroom, and Naomi still would have been pissed.

"What's Hades going to do to Percy?"

Persephone sighed softly. "He'll be locked away for a few decades, but he'll live," she said. "It's better this way, Kore. I know of the choice you are meant to make, and I know you are struggling with it. So long as Percy stays down here, there will be no need to make it."

"That's not how prophecies work and you know that," Naomi said sharply.

Persephone looked down. "I know more of prophecies than you do, dear," she said, but she didn't sound angry—more mournful than anything.

"Then you know locking Percy up will only delay the inevitable," Naomi said. "The longer we're down here, the more time Kronos has to gather his forces and attack Olympus. Are you really okay with watching them all fall?"

Persephone said nothing.

"Please, Mom," Naomi said, her voice growing softer.

Her mother studied her face, not unlike how Hestia had looked at her hours before. Naomi wondered what Persephone saw—the helpless little girl she was when they first reunited? Or someone different—someone stronger?

"Hades has made himself clear," Persephone murmured. "Percy Jackson is to remain in the dungeons. Nico will be the child of the Great Prophecy."

"There won't be a world to save by the time he turns seventeen," Naomi insisted. "You know that."

"I know many things," Persephone said. "I know that there are few who would dare to defy Hades' orders. And even fewer who would do it successfully."

Her tone sounded strange, but before Naomi could examine it any further, her mother placed a warm hand on her cheek. She bent down, pressing her lips to Naomi's forehead. "We will have breakfast in an hour," she told her. "Until then, I'll leave you to rest."

She dropped her hand from Naomi's cheek, scratched gently at Skia's ears, then left the bedroom with a flourish of her floral dress, closing the door behind her.

Naomi listened to her mother's footsteps retreat down the presumably marble hallway, her heels clicking against the floor until Naomi couldn't hear it anymore.

She counted ten seconds, then tried the doorknob.

It wasn't locked.

Naomi looked back at Skia, who stared back at her with her wide brown eyes. Despite the dismal circumstances, a smile spread across Naomi's lips.

"Meet me at the River Styx," she whispered to her hellhound. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

She poked her head out of her doorway as Skia bounded into the nearest shadow, checked for any security ghouls or skeletons walking around, then stepped into the hallway.

Finding Nico's bedroom was even easier than Naomi had expected—it was just down the hall on the opposite side, with his name engraved into the obsidian door. From the emptiness of the hallway and general lack of noise anywhere, Naomi assumed they had the wing to themselves.

So, just to make sure Nico understood how mad she was, she pounded her fist on his door, shouting, "Nico di Angelo, open this door right now!"

Nico made the smart choice and opened the door a second later.

"What?" he asked.

"You"—Naomi jabbed him in the chest just to make sure he knew she was mad—"are going to help me fix this right now, or you'll be staying in the Underworld as a permanent resident."

He almost certainly knew Naomi was bluffing—she was only violent when she had to be, and she wasn't in the habit of hurting family—but he had the decency to look ashamed.

"Look, I didn't know that's how it was going to go down," he said defensively, but he sounded too miserable for it to be a real defense. "If I had, I never would have brought Percy down here! I just—I had to know about my mom, about my past."

Naomi knew all too well the ache of wondering about your past and your mortal family. She'd asked her mother at least a dozen times about her father, and every refusal to answer made her more desperate for answers. She understood the temptation Nico must have felt when his father had dangled information about his past in front of him, promising to tell him about his mother in exchange for Percy.

Still, loyalty meant the world to Percy, and Nico had used that against him. It made Naomi's blood boil to think how easily Nico had gained and then betrayed Percy's trust, and how shattered it must have been as Percy sat alone in Hades' dungeon, blaming himself for being trusting when it was one of his best qualities.

"We're going to fix this," Naomi told Nico. "Now."

To Naomi's surprise, Nico didn't even argue. "Okay," he said. "Let's do it."

When they shadow-traveled down to Percy's jail cell, Naomi let Nico take the bullet and wake Percy up (how he'd managed to doze off in Hades' dungeon, Naomi would probably never understand).

She realized she'd made the right choice to let Nico wake him up when Percy lunged at Nico, sword in hand, as soon as he opened his eyes.

"Want—to—rescue," Nico choked out.

"Oh, yeah? And why should I trust you?" Percy demanded.

"You probably shouldn't," Naomi said, stepping out of the shadow. "But you can still trust me, Percy."

Percy let Nico go, but he kept his sword in his hand. Naomi studied his face in the dim light of his blade, her chest loosening up at the lack of fresh bruises or blood on him. She hadn't thought Hades would hurt Percy physically, but she couldn't have been certain.

"Are you okay?" she asked as Nico recovered from his near-strangulation.

"Could be better," Percy mumbled.

Nico got back to his feet, eyeing Percy's sword warily. "We have to get out of here."

"Why?" Percy said. "Does your dad want to talk to me again?"

Nico winced. "Percy, I swear on the River Styx, I didn't know what he was planning."

"You know what your dad is like!"

"He tricked me. He promised—"

"Look, that doesn't matter," Naomi interrupted. "We need to leave. Now." She figured just because breakfast wasn't happening for another fifty or so minutes didn't guarantee they wouldn't be found out sooner.

Nico nodded. "I put the guards to sleep, but it won't last."

Percy looked like he wanted to argue, or maybe try strangling Nico again, but at Naomi's pleading look, he relented with a nod.

Nico pointed at the wall. A whole section vanished, revealing a corridor. "Come on," he said.

Nico led the way.

As they walked, Nico put every skeleton guard they encountered to sleep. Naomi had discovered during her last friendly visit to the Underworld that her Underworld-y abilities didn't extend as much to the dead, so she wasn't much help in dealing with the guards. Unfortunately, that only left Nico, and the more he did it, the more tired he seemed.

By the time they reached a kitchen staffed by skeletal cooks and servants, Percy was practically carrying Nico. Naomi led them out of the servants' entrance and into the Fields of Asphodel.

In the distance, bronze gongs sounded high in the castle.

Naomi cursed under her breath. "Alarms."

"What do we do?" Percy asked.

Nico yawned, then frowned like he was trying to remember what to do next. "How about... run?"

"I've got a better idea," Naomi said. She whistled sharply.

Skia and Mrs. O'Leary bounded out of nowhere and ran circles around the trio, ready to play from the looks of it.

Naomi grinned at the sight of them. "Good girls!" she said. "Can you give us a ride to the Styx?"

The word Styx got them excited. It took a minute to calm the hellhounds down enough for Percy to push Nico onto Mrs. O'Leary's back and climb on behind him. Naomi climbed onto Skia's back, and the beasts took off toward the gates. They leaped straight over the EZ-DEATH line, sending guards sprawling and causing more alarms to blare. Cerberus barked, but he sounded more excited than angry, like: Can I play, too?

Fortunately, he didn't follow them, and Skia and Mrs. O'Leary kept running. They didn't stop until they were far upriver and the fires of Erebos had disappeared in the murk.

Nico slid off Mrs. O'Leary's back with all the grace of a newborn deer and crumbled in a heap on the black sand.

Percy took out a square of ambrosia and handed it to Nico.

"Um," Nico mumbled. "Better."

"Your powers drain you too much," Percy noted with a hint of surprise. He looked at Naomi, no doubt wondering why her own powers had less of an effect on her.

You and me both.

Nico nodded sleepily. "With great power... comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."

"Whoa, zombie dude." Percy caught him before he could pass out again. "We're at the river. You need to tell me what to do."

Percy fed Nico the last of the ambrosia, which seemed to do the trick. Nico shook his head a few times and struggled to his feet.

"My father will be coming soon," he said. "We should hurry."

The River Styx's current swirled with strange objects—broken toys, ripped-up college diplomas, wilted homecoming corsages—all the dreams people had thrown away as they'd passed from life into death.

"So... I just jump in?" Percy asked.

"You have to prepare yourself first," Nico said, "or the river will destroy you. It will burn away your body and soul."

"Sounds fun," Percy muttered.

Naomi glared at the river. "No offense to you two, but this is exactly why Annabeth makes the plans."

"This is no joke," Nico said. "There is only one way to stay anchored to your mortal life. You have to..."

He glanced behind Percy and Naomi and his eyes widened. Naomi and Percy turned around and found themselves faces to face with a Greek warrior.

For a second, Naomi thought it was Apollo. The man before them was as tall and muscular as the sun god, with golden hair that fell just past his shoulders. Though his eyes were green compared to Apollo's blue, and his face was sadder, more worn. Scars decorated most of his skin—evidence of dozens of battles, of a lifetime of war. He was beautiful in a cruel way, blinding like the sun.

He wore bronze armor over a white tunic, a plumed war helm under his arm. A bloody arrow stuck out of his left calf, just above the ankle.

"Achilles," Percy said.

The ghost nodded. "I warned the other one not to follow my path. Now I will warn you."

"Luke?" Percy asked. "You spoke with Luke?"

"Do not do this," Achilles said. "It will make you powerful. But it will also make you weak. Your prowess in combat will be beyond any mortal, but your weaknesses, your failings will increase as well."

"You mean I'll have a bad heel?" Percy said. "Couldn't I just, like, wear something besides sandals? No offense."

Naomi glared at the side of his face. "'No offense'?" she questioned. "Seriously?"

Achilles stared down at his bloody foot. "The heel is only my physical weakness, demigod. My mother, Thetis, held me there when she dipped me in the Styx. What really killed me was my own arrogance. Beware! Turn back!"

He meant it. Naomi could hear the regret and bitterness in his voice.

"I have to," Percy said. "Otherwise I don't stand a chance."

Achilles lowered his head. "Let the gods witness I tried. Hero, if you must do this, concentrate on your mortal point. Imagine one spot of your body that will remain vulnerable. This is the point where your soul will anchor your body to the world. It will be your greatest weakness, but also your only hope. No man may be completely invulnerable. Lose sight of what keeps you mortal, and the River Styx will burn you to ashes. You will cease to exist."

"I don't suppose you could tell us Luke's mortal point?" Percy tried.

Achilles scowled. "Prepare yourself, foolish boy. Whether you survive this or not, you have sealed your doom!"

On that happy note, the warrior vanished.

"Percy," Naomi said, glancing uneasily at the river. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

"Maybe Achilles is right," Nico said.

"This was your idea," Percy said, narrowing his eyes at Nico.

"I know, but now that we're here—"

"Percy." Naomi reached for his hand, as if she could hold him back from making this choice. "Are you... are you sure about this?"

The fire in Percy's eyes softened. "It's the only way, Naomi."

"But if you don't survive—" Naomi couldn't find the words. There were none.

She and Percy had had each other since before they even knew they were demigods, since before they were shaped into soldiers for the gods at such a tender age. He was her best friend. If she lost him...

She thought she might regret it. It could ruin everything, and leave them fractured in the aftermath. But in that moment, she couldn't care what might happen.

All she could do was kiss him.

To his credit, it only took a second for Percy to recover from his shock. One of his hands came up to cup her face, the other finding her waist. Naomi's settled on his neck and the small of his back, the contact warm and perfect. It was everything she had dreamed of and so much more.

For a moment, they were in the middle of nowhere, safe and happy and unburdened by the cruel weight of destiny, the heavy hand of fate.

They were just two teenagers sharing their first—and maybe last—kiss.

When they pulled away, the world shifted back into focus—back into the reality they were forced to face. They were still in the middle of a war, still on the edge of potential death and ruin.

A few feet away, Nico cleared his throat. "Are you guys finished, or...?"

Naomi's face burned with embarrassment. "Shut up," she muttered at her stepbrother.

Percy blinked, coming back to his senses. He cleared his throat. "Uh—just, um, just—just wait for me on the shore," he managed to get out. "If—If anything happens to me..."

He didn't finish his sentence. Naomi wasn't sure there was anything he could have said that would have lessened the tension in her chest.

Then, with one final glance at Naomi, Percy stepped into the Styx.

Chapter 99: viii. percy takes a dangerous swim

Notes:

Percy POV

Chapter Text

EVERYTHING HURT. As soon as Percy stepped into the river, his muscles turned to jelly and he fell face-first into the current, the pain instantly too much to bear.

He submerged completely. For the first time in his life, he couldn't breathe underwater. He finally understood the panic of drowning. Every nerve in his body burned. He was dissolving in the water. He saw faces—Rachel, Grover, Tyson, his mother—but they faded as soon as they appeared.

"Percy," his mother said. "I give you my blessing."

"Be safe, brother!" Tyson pleaded.

"Enchiladas!" Grover said. Percy wasn't sure where that came from, but it didn't seem to help much.

He was losing the fight. The pain was unbearable. His hands and feet were melting into the water, his soul being ripped from his body.

He couldn't remember who he was. The pain of Kronos's scythe had been nothing compared to this.

The cord, a familiar voice said somewhere in a world that seemed separate from his own.

Another voice: Remember your lifeline, dummy!

Suddenly there was a tug in Percy's lower back. The current pulled at him, but it wasn't carrying him away anymore. He imagined the string in his back, keeping him tied to the shore.

"Hold on, Seaweed Brain." There was Annabeth's voice, much clearer now. "You're not getting away from us that easily."

The cord strengthened.

Percy could see Annabeth now—standing barefoot above him on the canoe-lake pier. Naomi was beside her, seeming to laugh at something.

He'd fallen out of his canoe. That was it. Annabeth and Naomi were reaching out their hands to haul him up. They wore their orange camp t-shirts and jeans. Annabeth's hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange, because that should have made her invisible. Naomi's hair was braided, woven with wildflowers. She'd never worn it like that. It looked nice.

"And you say I'm the clumsy one." Naomi smiled. "Come on. We'll help you up."

Memories came flooding back to him—sharper and more colorful. He stopped dissolving.

My name is Percy Jackson.

He reached up and took Annabeth's and Naomi's hands.

Suddenly he burst out of the river, collapsing on the sand.

"Percy!" Naomi—the real Naomi—gasped.

"Are you okay?" Nico stammered. "Your skin. Oh, gods. You're hurt!"

Percy's arms were bright red. He felt like every inch of his body had been broiled over a slow flame.

He looked around for Annabeth, though he knew she wouldn't be there. It had seemed so real—her and Naomi, right there with him, just like they always were.

"I'm fine... I think." The color of his skin turned back to normal. The pain subsided. Mrs. O'Leary came up and sniffed him with concern as Naomi's frantic hands and eyes checked him for injuries.

"Do you feel stronger?" Nico asked.

Before Percy could decide what he felt, a voice boomed, "THERE!"

An army of the dead marched toward them. A hundred skeletal Roman legionnaires led the way with shields and spears. Behind them came an equal number of British redcoats with bayonets fixed. In the middle of the host, Hades himself rode a black-and-gold chariot pulled by nightmare horses, their eyes and manes smoldering with fire.

"You will not escape me this time, Percy Jackson!" Hades bellowed. "Destroy him!"

"Father, no!" Nico shouted, but it was too late. The front line of Roman zombies lowered their spears and advanced.

In his peripheral, Naomi summoned her swords, a wary look in her eyes. Next to her, Mrs. O'Leary and Skia both growled and got ready to pounce.

Maybe that's what set Percy off. He didn't want Hades or his soldiers hurting anyone he loved.

He yelled and the River Styx exploded. A black tidal wave smashed into the legionnaires. Spears and shields flew everywhere. Roman zombies began to dissolve, smoke coming off their bronze helmets.

The redcoats lowered their bayonets, but Percy didn't wait for them. He charged.

In the back of his mind, Percy knew it was the stupidest thing he'd ever done, which was saying something. But he didn't care. A hundred muskets fired at him, but none of them hit. Percy crashed into their line and started hacking with Riptide. Bayonets jabbed. Swords slashed. Guns reloaded and fired. Nothing touched him.

He whirled through the ranks, slashing redcoats to dust one after another. His mind went on autopilot: stab, dodge, cut, deflect, roll. Riptide was no longer a sword. It was an arc of pure destruction.

Percy broke through the enemy line and leaped into the black chariot. Hades raised his staff. A bolt of dark energy shot toward Percy, but he deflected it off his blade and slammed into him. The god and the half-blood both tumbled out of the chariot.

The next thing Percy knew, his knee was planted on Hades' chest. He was holding the collar of his royal robes in one fist, and the tip of his sword was poised right over the king's face.

Silence. The army did nothing to defend their master. Percy glanced back and realized why. There was nothing left of them but weapons in the sand and piles of smoking, empty uniforms.

Percy had destroyed them all.

Hades swallowed. "Now, Jackson, listen here..."

He was immortal. There was no way Percy could kill him, but gods could be wounded. Percy knew that firsthand, and he figured a sword to the face wouldn't feel too pleasant.

"Just because I'm a nice person," he snarled, "I'll let you go. But first, tell me about that trap!"

Hades melted into nothing, leaving Percy holding empty black robes.

He cursed and got to his feet, breathing heavily. Now that the danger was over, he realized how tired he was. Every muscle in his body ached. He looked down at his clothes, slashed to pieces and full of bullet holes. But he was fine—there wasn't a mark on him.

Nico's mouth hung open. "You just... with a sword... you just—"

"I think the river thing worked," Percy said.

Naomi let out an exasperated noise. "You think?"

Mrs. O'Leary and Skia barked happily, their tails almost creating tornadoes from wagging so hard. They bounded around, sniffing empty uniforms and hunting for bones.

Percy lifted Hades' robe. He could still see the tormented faces shimmering in the fabric.

He walked to the edge of the river. "Be free."

He dropped the robe in the water and watched as it swirled away, dissolving in the current.

"Go back to your father," he told Nico. "Tell him he owes me for letting him go. Find out what's going to happen to Mount Olympus and convince him to help."

Nico stared at him. "I—I can't. He'll hate me now. I mean... even more."

"You have to," Percy said. "You owe me, too."

Nico's ears turned red. "Percy, I told you I was sorry. Please... let me come with you. I want to fight."

"You'll be more help down here."

"You mean you don't trust me anymore," he said miserably.

"Just go back to Hades, Nico," Naomi said, her tone far kinder than Percy's would have been. "Work on him. You're the only one who might be able to convince him to listen."

"That's a depressing thought." Nico sighed. "All right. I'll do my best. Besides, he's still hiding something from me about my mom. Maybe I can find out what."

"Good luck," Percy said. "Now, we have to go."

"Where?" Nico said.

Percy reached for Naomi's hand, trying not to think about the new implications of it even as his body relaxed like he'd just stepped into his mother's apartment, home again.

"To get this war started," he said. "It's time I found Luke."

Naomi got them out of the Underworld, and from there they hailed a taxi down Fifth Avenue, Mrs. O'Leary and Skia loping along behind them.

Percy took the risk of using his mom's cell phone to call Annabeth for a second time. He'd tried once in Central Park, but he'd only reached Annabeth's voice mail.

This time, she picked up.

"Hey," Percy said. "You get my message?"

"Percy, where have you been?" Annabeth demanded over the speaker. "Your message said almost nothing! We've been worried sick!"

"Naomi and I'll fill you in later," Percy said, though he wasn't sure yet how he'd go about that. "Where are you?"

"We're on our way like you asked, almost to the Queens Midtown Tunnel. But, Percy, what are you planning? We've left the camp virtually undefended and there's no way the gods—"

"Trust me," Percy said. "I'll see you there."

He hung up. His hands were trembling. He wasn't sure if it was a leftover reaction from his dip in the Styx, or anticipation of what he was about to do. If this didn't work, being invulnerable wasn't going to save him from getting blasted to pieces.

It was late afternoon when the taxi dropped Percy and Naomi at the Empire State Building. Mrs. O'Leary and Skia bounded up and down Fifth Avenue, licking cabs and sniffing hot-dog carts. Nobody seemed to notice them, although people did swerve away and look confused when one of them came close.

Percy and Naomi whistled them to heel as three white vans pulled up to the curb, each decorated with fancy script reading, Delphi Strawberry Service.

The first van was driven by Argus, the camp's many-eyed security chief. The other two were driven by harpies.

The doors slid open. A bunch of campers climbed out, some of them looking a little green from the long drive. Percy was glad so many had come: Pollux, Silena, the Stoll brothers, Michael Yew, Jake Mason, Katie Gardner, and Annabeth, along with most of their siblings. Chiron came out of the van last. His horse half was compacted into his magic wheelchair, so he used the handicap lift.

The Ares cabin was conspicuously absent. Percy tried not to get too angry about that.

He did a headcount: forty campers in all.

Not many to fight a war, but it was still the largest group of half-bloods he'd ever seen gathered in one place outside camp. Everyone looked nervous, and he understood why. They were probably sending out so much demigod aura that every monster in the northeast United States knew they were there.

As Percy looked at their faces—all these campers he'd known for so many summers—a nagging voice whispered in his mind: One of them is a spy.

But he couldn't dwell on that. They were his friends. He needed them.

Then he remembered Kronos's evil smile. You can't count on friends. They will always let you down.

Annabeth came up to him and Naomi. She was dressed in black camouflage with her Celestial bronze knife strapped to her arm and her laptop bag slung over her shoulder—ready for stabbing or surfing the internet, whichever came first.

She frowned at him. "What is it?"

"What's what?" Percy asked.

"You're looking at me funny."

He realized he'd been thinking about his strange vision of Annabeth and Naomi pulling him out of the River Styx. "It's, uh, nothing." He turned to the rest of the group. "Thanks for coming, everybody. Chiron, after you."

Percy's old mentor shook his head. "I came to wish you luck, my boy. But I make it a point never to visit Olympus unless I am summoned."

"But you're our leader."

He smiled. "I am your trainer, your teacher. That is not the same as being your leader. I will go gather what allies I can. It may not be too late to convince my brother centaurs to help. Meanwhile, you called the campers here, Percy. You are the leader."

Percy wanted to protest, but everybody was looking at him expectantly, even Annabeth.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, like I told Annabeth on the phone, something bad is going to happen by tonight. Some kind of trap. We've got to get an audience with Zeus and convince him to defend the city. Remember, we can't take no for an answer."

He asked Argus to watch Mrs. O'Leary and Skia, which none of them seemed thrilled about.

Chiron shook his hand. "You'll do well, Percy. Just remember your strengths and beware your weaknesses."

It sounded eerily similar to what Achilles had told him. Then he remembered Chiron had taught Achilles. That didn't exactly reassure Percy, but he nodded and tried to give his mentor a confident smile.

"Let's go," he told the campers.

A security guard was sitting behind the desk in the lobby, reading a big black book with a flower on the cover. He glanced up when the campers all filed in with their weapons and armor clanking.

"School group? We're about to close up."

"No," Percy said. "Six-hundredth floor."

He checked them out. Percy couldn't tell if he was human or not, but he seemed to notice their weapons, so he must not have been fooled by the Mist.

"There is no six-hundredth floor, kid." He said it like it was a required line he didn't believe. "Move along."

Percy leaned across the desk. "Forty demigods attract an awful lot of monsters. You really want us hanging out in your lobby?"

The guard thought about that. Then he hit a buzzer and the security gate swung open. "Make it quick."

"You don't want us going through the metal detectors," Percy added.

"Um, no," he agreed. "Elevator on the right. I guess you know the way."

Percy tossed him a golden drachma and they marched through.

They decided it would take two trips to get everybody up in the elevator. Percy, Naomi, and Annabeth went with the first group. Different elevator music was playing since his last visit—that old disco song "Stayin' Alive." A terrifying image flashed through Percy's mind of Apollo in bell-bottom trousers and a slinky silk shirt.

The elevator doors finally dinged open. In front of them, a path of floating stones led through the clouds up to Mount Olympus, hovering six thousand feet over Manhattan.

Percy had seen Olympus before, but it still took his breath away. The mansions glittered gold and white against the sides of the mountain. Gardens bloomed on a hundred terraces. Scented smoke rose from braziers that lined the winding streets. And right at the top of the snow-capped crest rose the main palace of the gods. It looked as majestic as ever, but something seemed wrong. Then Percy realized the mountain was silent—no music, no voices, no laughter.

Annabeth studied him. "You look... different," she decided. "Where exactly did you go?"

The elevator doors opened again, and the second group of half-bloods joined them.

"Tell you later," Percy said. "Come on."

They made their way across the sky bridge into the streets of Olympus. The shops were closed. The parks were empty. A couple of Muses sat on a bench strumming flaming lyres, but their hearts didn't seem to be in it. A lone Cyclops swept the street with an uprooted oak tree. A minor godling spotted the demigods from a balcony and ducked inside, closing his shutters.

They passed under a big marble archway with statues of Zeus and Hera on either side. Annabeth made a face at the queen of the gods.

"Hate her," she muttered.

"Has she been cursing you or something?" Percy asked. Last year Annabeth had gotten on Hera's bad side, but Annabeth hadn't really talked about it since.

"Just little stuff so far," she said. "Her sacred animal is the cow, right?"

"Right."

"So she sends cows after me."

"Cows?" Percy could hear the amusement in Naomi's voice. "In San Francisco?"

"Oh, yeah. Usually I don't see them, but the cows leave me little presents all over the place—in our backyard, on the sidewalk, in the school hallways. I have to be careful where I step."

"Look!" Pollux cried, pointing toward the horizon. "What is that?"

They all froze. Blue lights were streaking across the evening sky toward Olympus like tiny comets. They seemed to be coming from all over the city, heading straight toward the mountain. As they got close, they fizzled out. The campers watched them for several minutes and they didn't seem to do any damage, but still it was strange.

"Like infrared scopes," Michael Yew muttered. "We're being targeted."

"Let's get to the palace," Percy said.

No one was guarding the hall of the gods. The gold-and-silver doors stood wide open. Their footsteps echoed as they walked into the throne room.

High above, the blue ceiling glittered with constellations. Twelve giant empty thrones stood in a U around a hearth. In one corner, a house-size globe of water hovered in the air, and inside swam Percy's old friend the Ophiotaurus, half-cow, half-serpent.

"Moooo!" he said happily, turning in a circle.

Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, Percy had to smile. Two years ago they'd spent a lot of time trying to save the Ophiotaurus from the Titans, and Percy had gotten kind of fond of him. The creature seemed to like him too, even though Percy had originally thought he was a girl and named him Bessie.

"Hey, man," Percy said. "They treating you okay?"

"Mooo," Bessie answered.

They walked toward the thrones, and a woman's voice said, "Hello again, Percy Jackson. You and your friends are welcome."

Hestia stood by the hearth, poking the flames with a stick. She wore the same kind of simple brown dress as she had before, but she was a grown woman now.

Naomi was the first to bow, but she seemed strangely tense. "Lady Hestia."

Everyone followed her example.

Hestia regarded Percy with her red glowing eyes. "I see you went through with your plan. You bear the curse of Achilles."

The other campers started muttering among themselves: "What did she say?" "What about Achilles?"

"You must be careful," Hestia warned him. "You gained much on your journey. But you are still blind to the most important truth. Perhaps a glimpse is in order."

Annabeth nudged him. "Um... what is she talking about?"

Percy stared into Hestia's eyes, and he was sucked into a memory.

Chapter 100: ix. percy learns more about his enemy

Notes:

Percy POV

Chapter Text

PERCY SAW A DARK ALLEY between red-brick warehouses. A sign above one of the doors read: RICHMOND IRON WORKS.

Two half-bloods crouched in the shadows—a boy about fourteen and a girl about twelve. Percy realized with a start that the boy was Luke, and the girl was Thalia. He was seeing a scene from back in the days when they were on the run, before Grover found them.

Luke carried a bronze knife. Thalia had her spear and shield of terror, Aegis. Luke and Thalia both looked hungry and lean, with wild animal eyes, like they were used to being attacked.

"Are you sure?" Thalia asked.

Luke nodded. "Something down here. I sense it."

A rumble echoed from the alley, like someone had banged on a sheet of metal. The half-bloods crept forward.

Old crates were stacked on a loading dock. Thalia and Luke approached with their weapons ready. A curtain of corrugated tin quivered as if something were behind it.

Thalia glanced at Luke. He counted silently: One, two, three! He ripped away the tin, and a little girl flew at him with a hammer.

"Whoa!" Luke said.

The girl had tangled blond hair and was wearing flannel pajamas. She couldn't have been more than seven, but she would've brained Luke if he hadn't been so fast.

He grabbed her wrist, and the hammer skittered across the cement.

The little girl fought and kicked. "No more monsters! Go away!"

"It's okay!" Luke struggled to hold her. "Thalia, put your shield up. You're scaring her."

Thalia tapped Aegis, and it shrank into a silver bracelet. "Hey, it's all right," she said. "We're not going to hurt you. I'm Thalia. This is Luke."

"Monsters!"

"No," Luke promised. "But we know all about monsters. We fight them too."

Slowly, the girl stopped kicking. She studied Luke and Thalia with large intelligent gray eyes.

"You're like me?" she said suspiciously.

"Yeah," Luke said. "We're... well, it's hard to explain, but we're monster fighters. Where's your family?"

"My family hates me," the girl said. "They don't want me. I ran away."

Thalia and Luke locked eyes. Percy knew they both related to what she was saying.

"What's your name, kiddo?" Thalia asked.

"Annabeth."

Luke smiled. "Nice name. I tell you what, Annabeth—you're pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you."

Annabeth's eyes widened. "You could?"

"Oh, yeah." Luke turned his knife and offered her the handle. "How'd you like a real monster-slaying weapon? This is Celestial bronze. Works a lot better than a hammer."

Maybe under most circumstances, offering a seven-year-old kid a knife would not be a good idea, but when you were a half-blood, regular rules kind of go out the window.

Annabeth gripped the hilt.

"Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters," Luke explained. "They don't have the reach or power of a sword, but they're easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy's armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you're pretty clever."

Annabeth stared at him with adoration. "I am!"

Thalia grinned. "We'd better get going, Annabeth. We have a safe house on the James River. We'll get you some clothes and food."

"You're... you're not going to take me back to my family?" she said. "Promise?"

Luke put his hand on her shoulder. "You're part of our family now. And I promise I won't let anything hurt you. I'm not going to fail you like our families did us. Deal?"

"Deal!" Annabeth said happily.

"Now, come on," Thalia said. "We can't stay put for long!"

The scene shifted. The three demigods were running through the woods. It must've been several days later, maybe even weeks. All of them looked beat up, like they'd seen some battles. Annabeth was wearing new clothes—jeans and an oversize army jacket.

"Just a little farther!" Luke promised. Annabeth stumbled, and he took her hand. Thalia brought up the rear, brandishing her shield like she was driving back whatever pursued them. She was limping on her left leg.

They scrambled to a ridge and looked down the other side at a white Colonial house—May Castellan's place.

"All right," Luke said, breathing hard. "I'll just sneak in and grab some food and medicine. Wait here."

"Luke, are you sure?" Thalia asked. "You swore you'd never come back here. If she catches you—"

"We don't have a choice!" he growled. "They burned our nearest safe house. And you've got to treat that leg wound."

"This is your house?" Annabeth said with amazement.

"It was my house," Luke muttered. "Believe me, if it wasn't an emergency—"

"Is your mom really horrible?" Annabeth asked. "Can we see her?"

"No!" Luke snapped.

Annabeth shrank away from him as though his anger surprised her.

"I... I'm sorry," he said. "Just wait here. I promise everything will be okay. Nothing's going to hurt you. I'll be back—"

A brilliant golden flash illuminated the woods. The demigods winced, and a man's voice boomed: "You should not have come home."

The vision shut off.

Percy's knees buckled, but Naomi and Annabeth grabbed him.

"Percy!" Annabeth said, startled. "What happened?"

"Did—did you see that?" he asked.

"See what?" Naomi asked.

Percy glanced at Hestia, but the goddess's face held no expression. Percy remembered something she'd told him in the woods: If you are to understand your enemy Luke, you must understand his family. But why had she shown him those scenes?

"How long was I out?" Percy muttered.

Annabeth knitted her eyebrows. "Percy, you weren't out at all. You just looked at Hestia for, like, one second and collapsed."

Percy could feel everyone's eyes on him. He couldn't afford to look weak. Whatever those visions meant, he had to stay focused on the mission.

"Um, Lady Hestia," Percy said, "we've come on urgent business. We need to see—"

"We know what you need," a man's voice said. Percy shuddered, because it was the same voice he'd heard in the vision.

A god shimmered into existence next to Hestia. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and elfin features. He wore a military pilot's flight suit, with tiny birds' wings fluttering on his helmet and his black leather boots. In the crook of his arm was a long staff entwined with two living serpents.

"I will leave you now," Hestia said. She bowed to the aviator and disappeared into smoke. Percy understood her haste—Hermes, the god of messengers, did not look happy.

"Hello, Percy." His brow furrowed like he was annoyed, and Percy wondered if he somehow knew about the vision Percy had just had. He wanted to ask why the god had been at May Castellan's house that night, and what had happened after he caught Luke. Percy remembered the first time he'd met Luke at Camp Half-Blood. He'd asked Luke if he'd ever met his father, and he'd looked at Percy bitterly and said: Once. But Percy could tell from Hermes' expression that this wasn't the time to ask.

Percy bowed awkwardly. "Lord Hermes."

Oh, sure, one of the snakes said in Percy's mind. Don't say hi to us. We're just reptiles.

George, the other snake scolded. Be polite.

"Hello, George," Percy said. "Hey, Martha."

Did you bring us a rat? George asked.

George, stop it, Martha said. He's busy!

Too busy for rats? George said. That's just sad.

Percy decided it was better not to get into it with George. "Um, Hermes," he said. "We need to talk to Zeus. It's important."

Hermes's eyes were steely cold. "I am his messenger. May I take a message?"

Behind Percy, the other demigods shifted restlessly. This wasn't going as planned. Maybe if he tried to speak with Hermes in private...

"You guys," Percy said. "Why don't you do a sweep of the city? Check the defenses. See who's left in Olympus. Meet Annabeth, Naomi, and me back here in thirty minutes."

Silena frowned. "But—"

"That's a good idea," Annabeth said. "Connor and Travis, you two lead."

The Stolls seemed to like that—getting handed an important responsibility right in front of their dad. They usually never led anything except toilet paper raids. "We're on it!" Travis said. They herded the others out of the throne room, leaving Annabeth, Naomi, and Percy with Hermes.

"My lord," Annabeth said. "Kronos is going to attack New York. You must suspect that. My mother must have foreseen it."

"Your mother," Hermes grumbled. He scratched his back with his caduceus, and George and Martha muttered Ow, ow, ow. "Don't get me started on your mother, young lady. She's the reason I'm here at all.

Zeus didn't want any of us to leave the front line. But your mother kept pestering him nonstop, 'It's a trap, it's a diversion, blah, blah, blah.' She wanted to come back herself, but Zeus was not going to let his number one strategist leave his side while we're battling Typhon. And so naturally he sent me to talk to you."

"But it is a trap!" Annabeth insisted. "Is Zeus blind?"

Thunder rolled through the sky.

"I'd watch the comments, girl," Hermes warned. "Zeus is not blind or deaf. He has not left Olympus completely undefended."

"But there are these blue lights—"

"Yes, yes. I saw them. Some mischief by that insufferable goddess of magic, Hecate, I'd wager, but you may have noticed they aren't doing any damage. Olympus has strong magical wards. Besides, Aeolus, the King of the Winds, has sent his most powerful minions to guard the citadel. No one save the gods can approach Olympus from the air. They would be knocked out of the sky."

Percy raised his hand. "Um... what about that materializing/teleporting thing you guys do?"

"That's a form of air travel too, Jackson. Very fast, but the wind gods are faster. No, if Kronos wants Olympus, he'll have to march through the entire city with his army and take the elevators! Can you see him doing this?"

Hermes made it sound pretty ridiculous—hordes of monsters going up in the elevator twenty at a time, listening to "Stayin' Alive." Still, Percy wasn't so sure.

"Maybe just a few of you could come back," he suggested.

Hermes shook his head impatiently. "Percy Jackson, you don't understand. Typhon is our greatest enemy."

"I thought that was Kronos."

The god's eyes glowed. "No, Percy. In the old days, Olympus was almost overthrown by Typhon. He is husband of Echidna—"

"Met her at the Arch," Percy muttered. "Not nice."

"—and the father of all monsters. We can never forget how close he came to destroying us all; how he humiliated us! We were more powerful back in the old days. Now we can expect no help from Poseidon because he's fighting his own war. Hades sits in his realm and does nothing, and Demeter and Persephone follow his lead. It will take all our remaining power to oppose the storm giant. We can't divide our forces, nor wait until he gets to New York. We have to battle him now. And we're making progress."

"Progress?" Percy asked. "He nearly destroyed St. Louis."

"Yes," Hermes admitted. "But he destroyed only half of Kentucky. He's slowing down. Losing power."

Percy didn't want to argue, but it sounded like Hermes was trying to convince himself.

In the corner, the Ophiotaurus mooed sadly.

"Please, Hermes," Annabeth said. "You said my mother wanted to come. Did she give you any messages for us?"

"Messages," he muttered. "'It'll be a great job,' they told me. 'Not much work. Lots of worshippers.' Hmph. Nobody cares what I have to say. It's always about other people's messages."

Rodents, George mused. I'm in it for the rodents.

Shhh, Martha scolded. We care what Hermes has to say. Don't we, George?

Oh, absolutely. Can we go back to the battle now? I want to do laser mode again. That's fun.

"Quiet, both of you," Hermes grumbled.

The god looked at Annabeth, who was doing her big-pleading-gray-eyes thing.

"Bah," Hermes said. "Your mother said to warn you that you are on your own. You must hold Manhattan without the help of the gods. As if I didn't know that. Why they pay her to be the wisdom goddess, I'm not sure."

"Anything else?" Annabeth asked.

"She said you should try plan twenty-three. She said you would know what that meant."

Annabeth's face paled. Obviously she knew what it meant, and she didn't like it. "Go on."

Hermes sighed, looking at Naomi. "She said to tell you that the future's as much preordained as it is manufactured by our own choices," he said with an eye-roll. "Whatever that means. And one last thing." This time, he looked at Percy. "She said to tell Percy: 'Remember the rivers.' And, um—something about staying away from her daughter."

Percy wasn't sure whose face was redder: Annabeth's or his.

"Thank you, Hermes," Annabeth said. "And I—I wanted to say... I'm sorry about Luke."

The god's expression hardened like he'd turned to marble. "You should've left that subject alone."

Annabeth stepped back nervously. "Sorry?"

"SORRY doesn't cut it!"

George and Martha curled around the caduceus, which shimmered and changed into something that looked suspiciously like a high-voltage cattle prod.

"You should've saved him when you had the chance," Hermes growled at Annabeth. "You're the only one who could have."

Percy tried to step between them. "What are you talking about? Annabeth didn't—"

"Don't defend her, Jackson!" Hermes turned the cattle prod toward him. "She knows exactly what I'm talking about."

"Maybe you should blame yourself!" Percy should've kept his mouth shut, but all he could think about was turning the god's attention away from Annabeth. This whole time, he hadn't been angry with Percy. He'd been angry with her. "Maybe if you hadn't abandoned Luke and his mom!"

Hermes raised his cattle prod. He began to grow until he was ten feet tall.

Well, that's it.

But as he prepared to strike, Olympus went dark. The air turned cold. Only the fire in the brazier remained, providing an eerie glow.

"Stop!" Naomi shouted. Darkness rolled off of her in waves. "We're already at war, in-fighting is only going to make Kronos's job easier!"

Percy wasn't really used to her yelling—she'd always been the softer-spoken of their trio, always trying to talk things out before turning to violence.

But war changed people, even when they wished it wouldn't.

The god turned his steely gaze onto Naomi, but to Percy's surprise, she hardly flinched.

George and Martha leaned in close and whispered something in his ear.

Hermes clenched his teeth. He lowered the cattle prod, and it turned back to a staff.

"Naomi Sakura," he said, his voice tense, "because of your destiny, I have no choice but to spare you. And your friend here"—he glared at Percy—"will live only because he is in the hands of the Fates now. But he will never speak to me like that again. He has no idea how much I sacrificed, how much—"

Naomi's darkness evaporated as Hermes' voice broke, and he shrank back to human size. "My son, my greatest pride... my poor May..."

He sounded so devastated Percy didn't know what to say. One minute he was ready to vaporize them. Now, he looked like he needed a hug.

"Look, Lord Hermes," Percy said. "I'm sorry, but I need to know. What happened to May? She said something about Luke's fate, and her eyes—"

Hermes glared at him, and Percy's voice faltered. The look on his face wasn't really anger, though. It was pain. Deep, incredible pain.

"I will leave you now," he said tightly. "I have a war to fight."

He began to shine. Percy turned away and made sure Annabeth did the same, because she was still frozen in shock.

Good luck, Percy, Martha the snake whispered.

Hermes glowed with the light of a supernova. Then he was gone.

Chapter 101: x. the greatest heroes of this millenium

Chapter Text

ANNABETH SAT AT THE FOOT OF HER MOTHER'S THRONE and cried. Naomi could only sit beside her, hoping her presence was enough of a comfort.

"Annabeth," Percy said, "it's not your fault. I've never seen Hermes act that way. I guess... I don't know...he probably feels guilty about Luke. He's looking for somebody to blame. I don't know why he lashed out at you. You didn't do anything to deserve that."

Annabeth wiped her eyes. She stared at the hearth like it was her own funeral pyre.

Percy shifted uneasily. "Um, you didn't, right?"

She didn't answer for a while.

"Percy," she finally said. "What did you mean about Luke's mother? Did you meet her?"

Percy nodded slowly. "Nico, Naomi, and I visited her. She was a little... different." He described May Castellan, and the weird moment when her eyes had started to glow and she talked about her son's fate.

Annabeth frowned. "That doesn't make sense. But why were you visiting—" Her eyes widened. "Hermes said you bear the curse of Achilles. Hestia said the same thing. Did you . . . did you bathe in the River Styx?"

"Don't change the subject."

"Percy! Did you or not?"

"Um... maybe a little."

He told her the story—most of it, anyway. He left out the kiss, though if Annabeth hadn't been as distraught as she was, Naomi figured she could've guessed something happened by how red their faces got.

Annabeth shook her head in disbelief. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?"

"I had no choice," Percy said. "It's the only way I can stand up to Luke."

"You mean... di immortales, of course! That's why Luke didn't die. He went to the Styx and—Oh no, Luke. What were you thinking?"

"So now you're worried about Luke again," Percy grumbled.

Annabeth stared at him like he'd just dropped out of space. "What?"

"Forget it," he muttered. "The point is—he didn't die in the Styx. Neither did I. Now I have to face him. We have to defend Olympus."

Annabeth was still studying his face. Maybe she was trying to see differences since his swim in the Styx. "I guess you're right. My mom mentioned—"

"Plan twenty-three."

Annabeth rummaged in her pack and pulled out Daedalus's laptop. The blue Delta symbol glowed on the top when she booted it up. She opened a few files and started to read.

"Here it is," she said. "Gods, we have a lot of work to do."

"One of Daedalus's inventions?" Naomi asked.

"A lot of inventions... dangerous ones. If my mom wants me to use this plan, she must think things are very bad." She looked at Naomi. "What about her message to you: 'The future's as much preordained as it is manufactured by our own choices...' Any idea what she meant by that?"

Naomi chewed on her lip. Athena was far from the first goddess to say something about her choice. Hestia had mentioned it the day before; Naomi's own mother had warned her she'd have to make a choice the first time they met.

Since hearing the Great Prophecy, Naomi had thought that choice would be which side she would fight for, which side she would be on when she claimed victory. It would have made sense with how determined Kronos and his allies had been in trying to recruit or abduct her. But now, she wondered if there was another choice to be made.

No choice this grave can ever be simple, Hestia had told her.

"I don't know," she admitted. "What about her message to Percy: 'Remember the rivers'? What could that mean?"

Percy shook his head, as lost about Athena's advice to him as Naomi was about hers.

Just then, the Stolls ran into the throne room.

"You need to see this," Connor said. "Now."

The blue lights in the sky had stopped, so at first Naomi didn't understand what the problem was.

The other campers had gathered in a small park at the edge of the mountain. They were clustered at the guardrail, looking down at Manhattan. The railing was lined with those tourist binoculars, where you could deposit one golden drachma and see the city. Campers were using every single one.

Naomi looked down at the city. She could see almost everything from up here—the East River and the Hudson River carving the shape of Manhattan, the grid of streets, the lights of skyscrapers, the dark stretch of Central Park in the north. Everything looked normal, but something was wrong.

It was so... quiet.

"I don't... hear anything," Annabeth said.

That was the problem. Even from this high up, they should've been able to hear something from the city—millions of people bustling around, thousands of cars and machines—the hum of a huge metropolis. It was always there, even in the dead of night. New York was never silent.

Until now.

"What did they do?" Percy's voice was tight with anger. "What did they do to my city?"

He pushed Michael Yew away from the binoculars and took a look.

Drew waved Naomi over, and Naomi looked through her binoculars. In the streets below, traffic had stopped. Pedestrians were lying on the sidewalks, or curled up in doorways. There was no sign of violence, no wrecks, nothing like that. It was as if all the people in New York had simply decided to stop what they were doing and pass out.

"Are they dead?" Silena asked in astonishment.

Naomi shook her head slowly. "Definitely not dead." If every mortal in New York had suddenly dropped dead, she was ninety-nine percent sure she'd feel something. But right now, she felt nothing but the low hum of silent dread she'd been living with for the last few days—the promise of bloodshed in the near future.

"Morpheus has put the entire island of Manhattan to sleep," Percy said. "The invasion's started."

Only the hellhounds were happy about the sleeping city.

They found Skia and Mrs. O'Leary pigging out at an overturned hot-dog stand while the owner was curled up on the sidewalk, sucking his thumb.

Argus was waiting for them with his hundred eyes wide open. He didn't say anything. He never did—supposedly because he had an eyeball on his tongue. But his face made it clear he was freaking out.

Percy told him what they'd learned in Olympus, and how the gods would not be riding to the rescue. Argus rolled his eyes in disgust, which looked pretty psychedelic since it made his whole body swirl.

"You'd better get back to camp," Percy told him. "Guard it as best as you can."

Naomi chewed on her lip. She knew the youngest campers—at least, the ones without mortal families to go home to—had stayed behind at Camp Half-Blood, with only Peleus to keep them safe. Naomi hoped Kronos wouldn't go after a bunch of kids, but then she remembered that he'd eaten his own kids, so... she figured nothing was off the table for him.

Argus pointed at Percy and raised his eyebrow quizzically.

"I'm staying," Percy said.

Argus nodded, like this answer satisfied him. He looked at Annabeth and drew a circle in the air with his finger.

"Yes," Annabeth agreed. "I think it's time."

"For what?" Naomi asked.

Argus rummaged around in the back of his van. He brought out a bronze shield and passed it to Annabeth. It looked pretty much standard issue—the same kind of round shield campers always used in capture the flag. But when Annabeth set it on the ground, the reflection on the polished metal changed from sky and buildings to the Statue of Liberty—which wasn't anywhere close to them.

"Whoa," Percy said. "A video shield."

"One of Daedalus's ideas," Annabeth said. "I had Beckendorf make this before—" She glanced at Silena. "Um, anyway, the shield bends sunlight or moonlight from anywhere in the world to create a reflection. You can literally see any target under the sun or moon, as long as natural light is touching it. Look."

Everyone crowded around as Annabeth concentrated. The image zoomed and spun at first, so Naomi got motion sickness just watching it. They were in the Central Park Zoo, then zooming down East 60th, past Bloomingdale's, then turning on Third Avenue.

"Whoa," Connor Stoll said. "Back up. Zoom in right there."

"What?" Annabeth said nervously. "You see invaders?"

"No, right there—Dylan's Candy Bar." Connor grinned at his brother. "Dude, it's open. And everyone is asleep. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Connor!" Katie scolded. She sounded scarily like her mother, Demeter. "This is serious. You are not going to loot a candy store in the middle of a war!"

"Sorry," Connor muttered, but he didn't sound very ashamed.

Annabeth passed her hand in front of the shield, and another scene popped up: FDR Drive, looking across the river at Lighthouse Park.

"This will let us see what's going on across the city," she said. "Thank you, Argus. Hopefully we'll see you back at camp... someday."

Argus grunted. He climbed into his van, and he and the two harpy drivers swerved away, weaving around clusters of idle cars that littered the road.

Percy whistled for Mrs. O'Leary and she came bounding over.

"Hey, girl," Percy said. "You remember Grover? The satyr we met in the park?"

"WOOF!"

"I need you to find him," Percy said. "Make sure he's still awake. We're going to need his help. You got that? Find Grover!"

Mrs. O'Leary gave him a sloppy wet kiss, then raced off north.

Pollux crouched next to a sleeping policeman. "I don't get it. Why didn't we fall asleep too? Why just the mortals?"

"This is a huge spell," Silena said. "The bigger the spell, the easier it is to resist. If you want to sleep millions of mortals, you've got to cast a very thin layer of magic. Sleeping demigods is much harder."

Naomi stared at her. "When did you learn so much about magic?"

Silena blushed. "I don't spend all my time on my wardrobe, Nay."

"Guys," Annabeth called. She was still looking at the shield. "You'd better see this."

The bronze image showed Long Island Sound near LaGuardia. A fleet of a dozen speed boats raced through the dark water toward Manhattan. Each boat was packed with demigods in full Greek armor. At the back of the lead boat, a purple banner emblazoned with a black scythe flapped in the night wind. Naomi had never seen that design before, but it wasn't hard to figure out: the battle flag of Kronos.

"Scan the perimeter of the island," Percy said. "Quick."

Annabeth shifted the scene south to the harbor. A Staten Island Ferry was plowing through the waves near Ellis Island. The deck was crowded with dracaenae and a whole pack of hellhounds. Swimming in front of the ship was a pod of marine mammals—those dog-demons from Mount Tam, telkhines.

The scene shifted again: the Jersey shore, right at the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel. A hundred assorted monsters were marching past the lanes of stopped traffic: giants with clubs, rogue Cyclopes, a few fire-spitting dragons, and just to rub it in, a World War II-era Sherman tank, pushing cars out of its way as it rumbled into the tunnel.

"What's happening with the mortals outside Manhattan?" Percy said. "Is the whole state asleep?"

Annabeth frowned. "I don't think so, but it's strange. As far as I can tell from these pictures, Manhattan is totally asleep. Then there's like a fifty-mile radius around the island where time is running really, really slow. The closer you get to Manhattan, the slower it is."

She showed them another scene—a New Jersey highway. It was Saturday evening, so the traffic wasn't as bad as it might've been on a weekday. The drivers looked awake, but the cars were moving at about one mile per hour. Birds flew overhead in slow motion.

"Kronos," Percy said. "He's slowing time."

"Hecate might be helping," Katie said. "Look how the cars are all veering away from the Manhattan exits, like they're getting a subconscious message to turn back."

"I don't know." Annabeth sounded frustrated. She hated not knowing. "But somehow they've surrounded Manhattan in layers of magic. The outside world might not even realize something is wrong. Any mortals coming toward Manhattan will slow down so much they won't know what's happening."

"Like flies in amber," Jake Mason murmured.

Annabeth nodded. "We shouldn't expect any help coming in."

Naomi's muscles were tight with apprehension. The shield had shown them at least three hundred enemies coming their way, and there were only forty of them.

And they were on their own.

"All right," Percy said. "We're going to hold Manhattan."

Silena tugged at her armor. "Um, Percy, Manhattan is huge."

"We are going to hold it," Percy insisted. "We have to."

"He's right," Annabeth said. "The gods of the wind should keep Kronos's forces away from Olympus by air, so he'll try a ground assault. We have to cut off the entrances to the island."

"They have boats," Michael Yew pointed out.

"I'll take care of the boats," Percy said.

Michael frowned. "How?"

"Just leave it to me," Percy said. "We need to guard the bridges and tunnels. Let's assume they'll try a midtown or downtown assault, at least on their first try. That would be the most direct way to the Empire State Building. Michael, take Apollo's cabin to the Williamsburg Bridge. Katie, Demeter's cabin takes the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel. Grow thorn bushes and poison ivy in the tunnel. Do whatever you have to do, but keep them out of there! Conner, take half of Hermes cabin and cover the Manhattan Bridge. Travis, you take the other half and cover the Brooklyn Bridge. And no stopping for looting or pillaging!"

"Awwww!" the whole Hermes cabin complained.

"Silena, take the Aphrodite crew to the Queens-Midtown Tunnel."

"Oh my gods," Drew said. "Fifth Avenue's on the way. Monsters hate the smell of Givenchy."

"No delays," Percy said. "Well... the perfume thing, if you think it'll work."

Drew grinned. "Hell yeah."

"The Holland Tunnel," Percy continued. "Jake—take Hephaestus cabin down there. Use Greek fire, set traps. Whatever you've got."

He grinned. "Gladly. We've got a score to settle. For Beckendorf!"

The whole cabin roared in approval.

"The 59th Street Bridge," Percy said. "Clarisse—"

He faltered. Clarisse wasn't here. The whole Ares cabin was still sitting back at camp.

"We'll take that," Annabeth stepped in, saving Percy from an embarrassing silence. She turned to her siblings. "Malcolm, take the Athena cabin, activate plan twenty-three along the way, just like I showed you. Hold that position."

"You got it."

"I'll go with Percy and Naomi," she said. "Then we'll join you—or we'll go wherever we're needed."

"No detours," Drew teased.

Naomi glared at her, but Drew just smirked back.

"All right," Percy said. "Keep in touch with cell phones."

"We don't have cell phones," Silena protested.

Percy reached down, picked up some snoring lady's BlackBerry, and tossed it to Silena. "You do now. You all know Annabeth's number, right? If you need us, pick up a random phone and call us. Use it once, drop it, then borrow another one if you have to. That should make it harder for the monsters to zero in on you."

Everyone grinned as though they liked this idea.

Travis cleared his throat. "Uh, if we find a really nice phone—"

"No, you can't keep it," Percy said.

"Aw, man."

"Hold it, Percy," Jake Mason said. "You forgot the Lincoln Tunnel."

He was right. A Sherman tank and a hundred monsters were marching through that tunnel right now, and Percy had positioned their forces everywhere else.

Then a girl's voice called from across the street: "How about you leave that to us?"

A band of thirty adolescent girls crossed Fifth Avenue. They wore white shirts, silvery camouflage pants, and combat boots. They all had swords at their sides, quivers on their backs, and bows at the ready. A pack of white timber wolves milled around their feet, and many of the girls had hunting falcons on their arms.

The girl in the lead had spiky black hair and a black leather jacket. She wore a silver circlet on her head like a princess's tiara, which didn't match her skull earrings or her Death to Barbie T-shirt showing a little Barbie doll with an arrow through its head.

"Thalia!" Annabeth cried.

The daughter of Zeus grinned. "The Hunters of Artemis, reporting for duty."

There were hugs all around—from Thalia, at least. The other Hunters didn't like being around campers, especially boys, but they didn't shoot anyone, which for them was a pretty warm welcome.

"Where have you been the last year?" Percy asked Thalia. "You've got like twice as many Hunters now!"

She laughed. "Long, long story. I bet my adventures were more dangerous than yours, Jackson."

"Complete lie," he said.

"We'll see," she promised. "After this is over, you, Naomi, Annabeth, and me: cheeseburgers and fries at that hotel on West 57th."

"Le Parker Meridien," Percy said. "You're on. And Thalia—thanks."

She shrugged. "Those monsters won't know what hit them. Hunters, move out!"

She slapped her silver bracelet, and the shield Aegis spiraled into full form. The golden head of Medusa molded in the center was so horrible, the campers all backed away. The Hunters took off down the avenue, followed by their wolves and falcons, and Naomi had a feeling the Lincoln Tunnel would be safe for now.

"Thank the gods," Annabeth said. "But if we don't blockade the rivers from those boats, guarding the bridges and tunnels will be pointless."

"You're right," Percy said.

He looked at the campers. All of them wore grim but determined expressions.

In the back of her mind, Naomi knew this would be the last time she saw some of them. Her death-sense wasn't specific, but she could feel impending death in the air. Not all of them would be making it through the battle.

But they all knew that. And they were still here, ready to fight—heroes, through and through.

"You're the greatest heroes of this millennium," Percy told them. "It doesn't matter how many monsters come at you. Fight bravely, and we will win." He raised Riptide and shouted, "FOR OLYMPUS!"

Everyone shouted in response, and their forty voices echoed off the buildings of Midtown. For a moment it sounded brave, but it died quickly in the silence of ten million sleeping New Yorkers.

Chapter 102: xi. for good luck

Chapter Text

NAOMI, ANNABETH, AND PERCY HAD THEIR PICK OF CARS, but they were all wedged in bumper-to-bumper traffic. None of the engines were running, which was weird. It seemed the drivers had had time to turn off their ignitions before they got too sleepy. Or maybe Morpheus had the power to put engines to sleep as well. Most of the drivers had apparently tried to pull to the curb when they felt themselves passing out, but still the streets were too clogged to navigate.

Finally they found an unconscious courier leaning against a brick wall, still straddling his red Vespa. They dragged him off the scooter and laid him on the sidewalk.

"Sorry, dude," Percy said.

They zigzagged down Broadway with their engine buzzing through the eerie calm. The only sounds were occasional cell phones ringing—like they were calling out to each other, as if New York had turned into a giant electronic aviary.

Their progress was slow. Every so often they'd come across pedestrians who'd fallen asleep right in front of a car, and they'd move them just to be safe. Once they stopped to extinguish a pretzel vendor's cart that had caught fire. (Naomi's shadows snuffed it out with ease; unfortunately, she was pretty sure those weren't the infamous flames the Great Prophecy was talking about—she would be so lucky, after all).

A few minutes later they had to rescue a baby carriage that was rolling aimlessly down the street. It turned out there was no baby in it—just somebody's sleeping poodle. Go figure. They parked it safely in a doorway and kept riding.

They were passing Madison Square Park when Annabeth said: "Pull over."

They stopped in the middle of East Twenty-third. Naomi and Annabeth jumped off, the latter running toward the park. By the time they caught up to her, she was staring at a bronze statue on a red marble pedestal.

The dude was sitting in his chair with his legs crossed. He wore an old-fashioned suit—Abraham Lincoln style—with a bowtie and long coat-tails and stuff. A bunch of bronze books were piled under his chair. He held a writing quill in one hand and a big metal sheet of parchment in the other.

"Why do we care about..." Percy squinted at the name on the pedestal. "William H. Steward?"

"Seward," Annabeth corrected. "He was a New York governor. Minor demigod—son of Hebe, I think. But that's not important. It's the statue I care about."

She climbed on a park bench and examined the base of the statue.

"Don't tell me he's an automaton," Naomi said.

Annabeth smiled. "Turns out most of the statues in the city are automatons. Daedalus planted them here just in case he needed an army."

"To attack Olympus or defend it?" Percy asked

Annabeth shrugged. "Either one. That was plan twenty-three. He could activate one statue and it would start activating its brethren all over the city, until there was an army. It's dangerous, though. You know how unpredictable automatons are."

"Uh-huh," he said. They'd had their fair share of bad experiences with them. "You're seriously thinking about activating it?"

"I have Daedalus's notes," she said. "I think I can... Ah, here we go."

She pressed the tip of Seward's boot, and the statue stood up, its quill and paper ready.

"What's he going to do?" Percy muttered. "Take a memo?"

"Shh," Annabeth. "Hello, William."

"Bill," Percy suggested.

"Bill... Oh, shut up," Annabeth told him. The statue tilted its head, looking at the trio with blank metal eyes.

Annabeth cleared her throat. "Hello, er, Governor Seward. Command sequence: Daedalus Twenty-three. Defend Manhattan. Begin Activation."

Seward jumped off his pedestal. He hit the ground so hard his shoes cracked the sidewalk. Then he went clanking off toward the east.

"He's probably going to wake up Confucius," Annabeth guessed.

"What?" Percy said.

"Another statue, on Division. The point is, they'll keep waking each other up until they're all activated."

"And then?"

"Hopefully, they defend Manhattan."

"Do they know that we're not the enemy?"

"I think so."

"That's reassuring."

Naomi thought about all the bronze statues in the parks, plazas, and buildings of New York. There had to be hundreds, maybe thousands.

Then a ball of green light exploded in the evening sky. Greek fire, somewhere over the East River.

"We have to hurry," Percy said. And they ran for the Vespa.

They parked outside Battery Park, at the lower tip of Manhattan where the Hudson and East Rivers came together and emptied into the bay.

"Wait here," Percy told Naomi and Annabeth.

"Percy, you shouldn't go alone," Annabeth said.

"Well, unless you can breathe underwater..."

She sighed. "You are so annoying sometimes."

"Like when I'm right? Trust me, I'll be fine. I've got the curse of Achilles now. I'm all invincible and stuff."

Annabeth didn't look convinced. "Just be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you. I mean, because we need you for the battle."

Percy grinned. "Back in a flash."

He clambered down the shoreline and waded into the water, leaving Naomi and Annabeth alone to wait.

As Percy tried to talk the New York river gods into helping them, Naomi bounced awkwardly on the balls of her feet. She liked being with Annabeth, more than was probably healthy, but after kissing Percy—whom Naomi knew she had a crush on, and still kissed anyway, like the world's worst friend—Naomi couldn't find anything to say.

"You're acting weird," Annabeth said, because she could read Naomi like a book. Naomi couldn't decide if that was because Annabeth knew her so well or because Naomi was so readable.

"No, I'm not," Naomi lied.

Annabeth raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Yes, you are," she said. "You haven't looked me or Percy in the eye since you two got back from the Underworld. Did something else happen down there?"

Curse her observational skills.

Naomi chewed on her lip, trying to figure out what to say. She didn't want to lie, or hide what had happened—it wasn't fair to Annabeth. She had a right to know Naomi was a terrible friend, especially before they went into battle. If it came out during a fight, it could end in disaster.

But how was she supposed to say it? She couldn't just blurt it out, like—

"I kissed Percy at the River Styx."

... or maybe she could blurt it out.

Naomi smacked her hand over her mouth, shocked she'd just said it like that. No planning, no preface, but—bam! I suck!

Annabeth blinked, staring at her. "What?"

Naomi swallowed. "...What?" she squeaked.

Annabeth opened her mouth to respond, but like an electronic savior, Annabeth's phone rang in her pocket. She took it out, answering it immediately. "Hello?"

There was frantic, indistinct talking on the other end—indistinct for Naomi, anyway. Whatever the other person was saying must have been bad, because Annabeth's eyes widened with every few words.

"Michael, slow down," Annabeth said quickly. "It's... what's leading them? The... Okay. Yeah, yeah, we're—we'll be there as soon as we can. Just—just hold the line."

Percy emerged from the river, and Annabeth hung up, slipping the phone back into her pocket. She looked shaken.

"It worked," Percy announced. "The rivers are safe."

"Good," Annabeth said. "Because we've got other problems. Michael Yew just called. Another army is marching over the Williamsburg Bridge. The Apollo cabin needs help. And Percy, the monster leading the enemy... it's the Minotaur."

Blackjack, Porkpie, and Guido gave the trio rides to the Williamsburg Bridge.

They saw the battle before they were close enough to make out individual fighters. It was well after midnight now, but the bridge blazed with light. Cars were burning. Arcs of fire streamed in both directions as flaming arrows and spears sailed through the air.

They came in for a low pass, and Naomi saw the Apollo campers retreating. They would hide behind cars and snipe at the approaching army, setting off explosive arrows and dropping caltrops in the road, building fiery barricades wherever they could, dragging sleeping drivers out of their cars to get them out of harm's way. But the enemy kept advancing. An entire phalanx of dracaenae marched in the lead, their shields locked together, spear tips bristling over the top. An occasional arrow would connect with their snaky trunks, or a neck, or a chink in their armor, and the unlucky snake woman would disintegrate, but most of the Apollo arrows glanced harmlessly off their shield wall. About a hundred more monsters marched behind them.

Hellhounds leaped ahead of the line from time to time. Most were destroyed with arrows, but one got hold of an Apollo camper and dragged him away. Naomi didn't see what happened to him next. She didn't want to know.

"There!" Annabeth called from the back of her pegasus.

Sure enough, in the middle of the invading legion was the infamous Minotaur himself.

Naomi had never seen the Minotaur before, so she hadn't known what to expect. From the waist down, he wore standard Greek battle gear—a kilt-like apron of leather and metal flaps, bronze greaves covering his legs, and tightly wrapped leather sandals. His top was all bull—hair and hide and muscle, leading to a head so large he should've toppled over just from the weight of his horns. A double-bladed ax was strapped to his back, but he was too impatient to use it. As soon as he saw Percy circling overhead, he bellowed and picked up a white limousine.

"Blackjack, dive!" Percy yelled.

They were at least a hundred feet up, but the limo came sailing toward them, flipping fender over fender like a two-ton boomerang. Guido and Porkpie swerved madly to the left as Blackjack tucked his wings and plunged. The limo sailed over Percy's head, missing by maybe two inches. It cleared the suspension lines of the bridge and fell toward the East River.

Monsters jeered and shouted, and the Minotaur picked up another car.

The pegasi dropped them behind an overturned school bus where a couple of campers were hiding. The trio leaped off their pegasi as soon as the hooves touched the pavement. Then Blackjack, Porkpie, and Guido soared into the night sky.

Michael Yew ran up to them. He had a bandaged cut on his arm, his face smeared with soot and his quiver almost empty, but he was smiling like he was having the time of his life.

"Glad you could join us," he said. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

"For now, we're it," Percy said.

"Then we're dead."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Naomi muttered.

"You still have your flying chariot?" Annabeth asked.

"Nah," Michael said. "Left it at camp. I told Clarisse she could have it. Whatever, you know? Not worth fighting about anymore. But she said it was too late. We'd insulted her honor for the last time or some stupid thing."

"Least you tried," Percy said.

Michael shrugged. "Yeah, well, I called her some names when she said she still wouldn't fight. I doubt that helped. Here come the uglies!"

He drew an arrow and launched it toward the enemy. The arrow made a screaming sound as it flew. When it landed, it unleashed a blast like a power chord on an electric guitar magnified through the world's largest speakers. The nearest cars exploded. Monsters dropped their weapons and clasped their ears in pain. Some ran. Others disintegrated on the spot.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael said.

"A gift from your dad?" Percy asked. "God of music?"

Michael grinned wickedly. "Loud music can be bad for you. Unfortunately, it doesn't always kill."

Sure enough, most monsters were regrouping, shaking off their confusion.

"We have to fall back," Michael said. "I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."

"No," Percy said. "Bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Michael laughed. "How do you plan to do that?"

Percy drew his sword.

"Percy," Annabeth said, "let us come with you."

Us. So maybe she didn't hate Naomi's guts.

She decided now wasn't the time to think about it.

"Too dangerous," Percy said. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."

Michael snorted. "Thanks a lot."

Percy kept his eyes on Annabeth.

She nodded reluctantly. "All right. Get moving."

"Don't I get a kiss for good luck?" Percy asked. "It's kind of a tradition, right?"

Naomi was pretty sure her face had never been this red before.

Annabeth drew her knife and stared at the army marching toward them. "Come back alive, Seaweed Brain. Then we'll see."

Percy looked at Naomi, quirking an eyebrow.

Okay, this was the reddest her face had ever been.

"What she said," Naomi managed.

Naomi took care of the hellhounds. As much as they clearly hated it, the Underworld beasts had no choice but to obey when she ordered them back to the Underworld. Skia made sure they got the message, having appeared out of an alley moments after Naomi joined the battle. She barked and snapped at the more stubborn hellhounds, making it clear that it was obedience or death, plain and simple.

Unfortunately, that was the only easy thing.

As Percy took on the Minotaur, Naomi and the rest of the campers coordinated the defensive line, dragging mortals out of the way. Skia picked them up like sleeping kittens, but thankfully, she was gentle with them. Naomi wondered what the mortals would think when they woke up smelling like wet dog.

Better than not waking up at all.

Percy took the Minotaur out fast—faster than Naomi would have anticipated. Then he charged the monsters, slicing through their ranks like a madman. The Apollo campers shot their arrows, disrupting every attempt by the enemy to rally. Finally, the monsters turned and fled—about twenty left alive out of two hundred.

Percy followed with the rest of the Apollo campers. Next to Naomi, Annabeth cursed under her breath and ran after them, Naomi close behind.

They drove the monsters back toward the Brooklyn side of the bridge. The sky was growing pale in the east. Naomi could see the toll stations ahead.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!"

Naomi spotted the crowd at the base of the bridge. The retreating monsters were running straight toward their reinforcements. It was a small group, maybe thirty or forty demigods in battle armor, mounted on skeletal horses. One of them held a purple banner with the black scythe design.

The lead horseman trotted forward. He took off his helm and Naomi recognized Kronos himself, his eyes like molten gold.

Everyone faltered. The monsters they'd been pursuing reached the Titan's line and were absorbed into the new force. Kronos gazed in their direction.

"Now," Percy said, "we pull back."

The Titan lord's men drew their swords and charged. The hooves of their skeletal horses thundered against the pavement. The Apollo archers shot a volley, bringing down several of the enemy, but they just kept riding.

"Retreat!" Percy shouted. "I'll hold them.'"

In a matter of seconds they were on him.

Michael and his archers tried to retreat, but Annabeth and Naomi stayed right beside Percy, their weapons out and swinging as they slowly backed up the bridge.

Kronos's cavalry swirled around them, slashing and yelling insults. The Titan himself advanced like he had all the time in the world. Being the Lord of Time, Naomi supposed he did.

Naomi didn't want to kill Kronos's men. They weren't monsters—they were half-bloods, kids who'd fallen under Kronos's spell. Naomi couldn't see their faces under their battle helmets, but she must have known some of them. She slashed the legs off their skeletal horses and made the mounts disintegrate. After the first few demigods took a spill, the rest figured it was better to dismount and fight on foot.

Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy formed a triangle, facing opposing directions. A dark shape passed over them—Blackjack, Porkpie, and Guido swooped in, kicking their enemies in the helmets and flying away like very large kamikaze pigeons.

They'd almost made it to the middle of the bridge when things went wrong.

On Naomi's right, Percy tensed, and on her left, Annabeth cried out in pain.

"Annabeth!" Percy yelled.

Naomi turned in time to see her fall, clutching her arm. A demigod with a bloody knife stood over her.

Naomi locked eyes with the demigod. He wore an eye patch under his war helm.

Ethan.

Naomi charged before she even fully recognized him, but even when she did, she didn't falter. He caught Hemlock with the hilt of his knife, but Naomi didn't hold back this time. She kicked him in the stomach, slashing Asphodel through his chest plate.

He staggered backward, his armor black and smoking.

Naomi noticed the other demigods getting closer. Without even thinking, shadows exploded around her, blasting away from Naomi, Percy, and the injured Annabeth. Demigods cried out, the shadows cutting through armor and shoving them away.

Only Kronos managed to withstand the blast, though his skeletal horse staggered.

"Interesting," the Titan said.

He towered over them, his scythe in one hand. He studied the scene with narrowed eyes. Naomi wrapped an arm around Annabeth's waist, holding her steady as Percy stood between them and Kronos.

"Bravely fought," Kronos said. "But it's time to surrender—or the girl dies."

"Percy, don't," Annabeth groaned. Her shirt was soaked with blood. She needed help.

Percy locked eyes with Naomi. "Get her out of here."

Naomi nodded. She summoned the shadows that had burst out back to her, and they swirled around her and Annabeth.

Somewhere safe, she thought. Anywhere safe.

And then the shadows took them away.

Chapter 103: xii. stay

Chapter Text

NAOMI WAS GOING TO HAVE TO figure out a way to send shadows a thank-you card.

She'd had no actual destination in mind—a dangerous thing when shadow-traveling—but they brought her and Annabeth to the Plaza Hotel, where some of the campers had set up a headquarters. Silena was there, and she helped Naomi get Annabeth up to the penthouse suites where everyone was.

Silena and Naomi got Annabeth onto a lounge chair out on the terrace. Her half-siblings crowded around her, worried, though they gave her space as Naomi and Silena wrapped Annabeth's wound to stow the bleeding.

Naomi's hands were shaking so hard Silena made her take a step back so she and Malcolm could take over bandaging. Naomi and some of Annabeth's little sisters grabbed blankets from the linen closet, but Annabeth kept shivering. Naomi wet a washcloth in the bathroom and knelt down by Annabeth's side, wiping her forehead.

Naomi lost any and all sense of time. All she could do was watch Annabeth, pale and shivering and in pain, and replay that offer over and over in her head.

Perseus and Annabeth will live.

To took every ounce of her sanity to remind herself: She's not dying.

Because she would know—even if she knew absolutely nothing else, she would know that.

As if to drive that point home, Annabeth's shaking hand clenched around Naomi's. She couldn't remember when she'd grabbed her hand, but she never wanted her to let go.

"I'll be okay," Annabeth whispered, her voice raspy and breathless.

Naomi forced herself to nod. She'll be okay. She'll be okay. She'll be okay.

Naomi wasn't sure how long it was before Percy and Will Solace pushed through the crowd of Athena kids. Will unwrapped Annabeth's bandages to examine the wound, and Naomi forced herself to look away. She'd already seen it when Silena first wrapped it up—the green tinge of her skin around the deep gash.

For a sick moment, Naomi hoped Ethan died in battle before she could see him again, because if she came face-to-face with him again...

She wasn't sure what she would do to him.

"Annabeth..." Percy choked up.

"Poison on the dagger," Annabeth mumbled. "Pretty stupid of me, huh?"

Will Solace exhaled with relief. "It's not so bad, Annabeth. A few more minutes and we would've been in trouble, but the venom hasn't gotten past the shoulder yet. Just lie still. Somebody hand me some nectar."

Percy grabbed a canteen. Will cleaned out the wound with the godly drink while Percy held Annabeth's other hand.

"Ow," she said. "Ow, ow!" She gripped their fingers so tight Naomi couldn't feel hers, but she stayed still like Will asked. Silena muttered words of encouragement. Will put some silver paste over the wound and hummed words in Ancient Greek—a hymn to Apollo. Then he applied fresh bandages and stood up shakily.

The healing must've taken a lot of his energy. He looked almost as pale as Annabeth.

"That should do it," he said. "But we're going to need some mortal supplies." He grabbed a piece of hotel stationery, jotted down some notes, and handed it to one of the Athena guys. "There's a Duane Reade on Fifth. Normally I would never steal—"

"I would," Travis volunteered.

Will glared at him. "Leave cash or drachmas to pay, whatever you've got, but this is an emergency. I've got a feeling we're going to have a lot more people to treat."

Nobody disagreed. There was hardly a single demigod who hadn't already been wounded, and it was only the first night.

"Come on, guys," Travis Stoll said. "Let's give Annabeth some space. We've got a drugstore to raid... I mean, visit."

The demigods shuffled back inside. Jake Mason grabbed Percy's shoulder as he was leaving. "We'll talk later, but it's under control. I'm using Annabeth's shield to keep an eye on things. The enemy withdrew at sunrise; not sure why. We've got a lookout at each bridge and tunnel."

"Thanks, man," Percy said.

He nodded. "Just take your time."

He closed the terrace doors behind him, leaving Silena, Annabeth, Percy and Naomi alone.

"This is all my fault," Silena whispered.

"No," Annabeth said weakly. "Silena, how is it your fault?"

"I've never been any good at camp," she murmured. "Not like you or Percy. If I was a better fighter..."

Her mouth trembled. Naomi wrapped her free arm around Silena. She looked like she was on the verge of a breakdown, though she'd looked like that since Beckendorf's death. She seemed so... fragile, nowadays. It hurt to see.

"You're a great camper," Percy told Silena. "You're the best pegasus rider we have. And you get along with people. Believe me, anyone who can make friends with Clarisse has talent."

She stared at him like he'd just given her an idea. "That's it! We need the Ares cabin. I can talk to Clarisse. I know I can convince her to help us."

"Silena," Naomi said gently. "Even if you could get off the island, Clarisse is pretty stubborn. Once she gets angry—"

"Please," Silena said. "I can take a pegasus. I know I can make it back to camp. Let me try."

Percy exchanged looks with Annabeth. She nodded slightly.

Percy still looked hesitant as he looked at Naomi. Naomi looked at Silena, biting her lip.

Then, after a moment, she nodded, too.

"All right," Percy conceded. "I can't think of anybody better to try."

Silena threw her arms around him. Then she pushed back awkwardly, glancing at Naomi and Annabeth. "Um—sorry. Thank you, Percy! I won't let you down!"

Naomi watched her go, sending a prayer to the gods for safe travels.

Silence settled over the trio. Naomi looked from Percy to Annabeth, then took a deep, quiet breath. "Maybe I should go—"

Annabeth's hand tightened around hers. "Stay," she whispered. "Please."

Her eyes were glassy, imploring. How was Naomi ever supposed to say no to her when she looked at her like that?

Naomi nodded. "Okay."

Percy knelt down on Annabeth's other side and felt her forehead. Annabeth watched him.

"You're cute when you're worried," she muttered. "Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."

"You are not going to die while I owe you a favor," Percy said. "Why did you take the knife?"

"You would've done the same for me." Her gray eyes flickered to Naomi. "You both would."

It was true. They all knew it.

"How did you know?" Percy asked.

"Know what?" Annabeth said.

Percy looked around, just to make sure there was no one else around. "My Achilles spot. If you hadn't taken that knife, I would've died."

Annabeth got a far away look in her eyes. "I don't know, Percy. I just had this feeling you were in danger. Where—where is the spot?"

Percy wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but he did. "The small of my back."

Annabeth lifted her hand. "Where? Here?"

She put her hand on his back. He moved her fingers until they touched the spot that kept him anchored to mortality—the spot where Naomi had touched his back when she kissed him.

"You saved me," he said. "Thanks."

Annabeth drew her hand back, but he kept holding it.

"So you owe me," she said weakly. "What else is new?"

They watched the sun come up over the city. The traffic should've been heavy by now, but there were no cars honking, no crowds bustling along the sidewalks.

Naomi closed her eyes. "They said you'd be spared," she whispered, though her voice still sounded too loud in her ears, in the eerie silence. "If I joined Kronos, you'd both live."

She could feel their gazes on her. She was almost afraid to open her eyes, but she made herself.

"That's why I've been acting weird," she admitted quietly. "The other night, I had a dream. This voice... it said if I snuffed out the hearth on Olympus, you'd live."

Percy's gaze was infuriatingly gentle. "They were trying to trick you, Nay."

She shook her head. "They swore on the River Styx," she whispered. "Whatever that voice was... it was telling the truth."

"Whose voice was it?" Annabeth asked. "Kronos?"

"I don't think so," Naomi said. "I didn't recognize it. But it said it was my destiny to snuff the flames of Olympus."

"That would kill any hope the gods have of surviving, even if the city fell," Annabeth whispered.

"Yeah," Naomi mumbled. "Some destiny, huh?"

"But... you wouldn't do that," Percy said, like it was the simplest truth in the universe.

"If it meant you guys lived..." Naomi swallowed. "I'm not sure what I'd be capable of."

"You wouldn't," Percy repeated. "At the end of the day, you're good. You'll always make the right choice."

Naomi wanted to believe him. But she'd considered it, as shameful as it was to admit even to herself. Maybe she wouldn't go through with it, but just the fact that she was tempted... It made her feel like as much of a monster as any demigod actually fighting on Kronos's side.

But she didn't want to burst Percy's bubble, or make him and Annabeth think differently of her, so she said nothing else.

Far away, she could hear a car alarm echo through the streets. A plume of black smoke curled into the sky somewhere over Harlem.

"You asked why Hermes was mad at me," Annabeth said into the silence.

"Hey, you need to rest—" Percy started.

"No, I want to tell you. It's been bothering me for a long time." She moved her shoulder and winced. "Last year, Luke came to see me in San Francisco."

"In person?" Percy asked. "He came to your house?"

"This was before we went into the Labyrinth, before..." She faltered, but Percy and Naomi both knew what she meant: before he turned into Kronos. "He came under a flag of truce. He said he only wanted five minutes to talk. He looked scared, guys. He told me Kronos was going to use him to take over the world. He said he wanted to run away, like the old days. He wanted me to come with him."

"But you didn't trust him," Percy said.

"Of course not. I thought it was a trick. Plus... well, a lot of things have changed since the old days. I told Luke there was no way. He got mad. He said... he said I might as well fight him right there, because it was the last chance I'd get."

Her forehead broke out in sweat again. The story was taking too much of her energy.

"It's okay," Naomi said. "Try to get some rest."

"You don't understand. Hermes was right. Maybe if I'd gone with him, I could've changed his mind. Or—or I had a knife. Luke was unarmed. I could've—"

"Killed him?" Percy I said. "You know that wouldn't have been right."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "Luke said Kronos would use him like a stepping stone. Those were his exact words. Kronos would use Luke, and become even more powerful."

"He did that," Percy said. "He possessed Luke's body."

"But what if Luke's body is only a transition? What if Kronos has a plan to become even more powerful? I could've stopped him. The war is my fault."

Naomi remembered last summer, when the two-headed god Janus had warned Annabeth she would have to make a major choice—and that had happened after she saw Luke. Pan had also said something to her: You will play a great role, though it may not be the role you imagined.

The terrace door opened, and Connor stepped through.

"Percy." He glanced at Annabeth, like he didn't want to say anything bad in front of her, but it was clear he wasn't bringing good news. "Mrs. O'Leary just came back with Grover. I think you should talk to him."

With a final look back at them, Percy left with Connor, and Naomi and Annabeth were alone on the terrace.

"Get some rest," Naomi said softly.

"He's right," Annabeth whispered, her eyes drooping slightly. "You're good. You'll make the right choice."

Naomi swallowed against the lump in her throat. "Thanks, Annie."

Annabeth's smile was small, but it was there. "Anytime, Buttercup."

It didn't take long for Annabeth to fall asleep. After a few minutes, Thalia and one of the younger Athena kids, Georgia, stepped out onto the terrace. Georgia took up post at Annabeth's bedside, and after making sure her oldest friend was going to be okay, Thalia stepped back into the penthouse, Naomi right behind her.

Naomi listened in grim silence as Grover finished his report.

"We lost twenty satyrs against some giants at Fort Washington," he said, his voice trembling. "Almost half my kinsmen. River spirits drowned the giants in the end, but..."

Thalia shouldered her bow. "Percy, Kronos's forces are still gathering at every bridge and tunnel. And Kronos isn't the only Titan. One of my Hunters spotted a huge man in golden armor mustering an army on the Jersey shore. I'm not sure who he is, but he radiates power like only a god or a Titan."

"Great," Percy said. "Any good news?"

Thalia shrugged. "We've sealed off the subway tunnels into Manhattan. My best trappers took care of it. Also, it seems like the enemy is waiting for tonight to attack. I think Luke"—she caught herself—"I mean Kronos needs time to regenerate after each fight. He's still not comfortable with his new form. It's taking a lot of his power to slow time around the city."

Grover nodded. "Most of his forces are more powerful at night, too. But they'll be back after sundown."

"Okay," Percy said. "Any word from the gods?"

Thalia shook her head. "I know Lady Artemis would be here if she could. Athena, too. But Zeus has ordered them to stay at his side. The last I heard, Typhon was destroying the Ohio River valley. He should reach the Appalachian Mountains by midday."

"So at best," Percy said, "we've got another two days before he arrives."

Jake Mason cleared his throat. He'd been standing there so silently Naomi hadn't even realized he was there.

"Percy, something else," he said. "The way Kronos showed up at the Williamsburg Bridge, like he knew you were going there. And he shifted his forces to our weakest points. As soon as we deployed, he changed tactics. He barely touched the Lincoln Tunnel, where the Hunters were strong. He went for our weakest spots, like he knew."

"Like he had inside information," Percy said. "The spy."

"What spy?" Thalia demanded.

He told her about the silver charm Kronos had shown him, the communication device.

"That's bad," she said. "Very bad."

"It could be anyone," Jake said. "We were all standing there when Percy gave the orders."

"But what can we do?" Grover asked. "Frisk every demigod until we find a scythe charm?"

"We keep fighting," Percy decided after a moment. "We can't obsess about this spy. If we're suspicious of each other, we'll just tear ourselves apart. You guys were awesome last night. I couldn't ask for a braver army. Let's set up a rotation for the watches. Rest up while you can. We've got a long night ahead of us."

The demigods mumbled agreement. They went their separate ways to sleep or eat or repair their weapons.

Naomi chewed on her lower lip. "I'm going to the Underworld," she said.

Percy looked at her, worried. "You said you could only pop in if you're invited."

"I'll figure something out," Naomi said. "I need to check on Nico, talk to my mom. If we can convince Hades to join the fight, we might actually stand a chance."

"Who's to say he wouldn't just kill you for what happened at the Styx?" Percy asked, taking her hand as if to stop her. "You guys aren't exactly close."

"He won't kill me," Naomi said, trying to feel as confident as she sounded. "My mom would never forgive him for it."

Percy still looked unsure.

"Look, I have to do something," she said quietly. "I'll be back before tonight. Promise."

It took a moment, but Percy finally nodded, letting go of her hand with clear reluctance. "Be careful."

Naomi nodded. "I'll be back soon."

Chapter 104: xiii. naomi tries to reason with the unreasonable

Chapter Text

NAOMI DIDN'T ACTUALLY THINK IT WOULD WORK. She'd only ever shadow-traveled into the Underworld after being invited by her mother. According to Nico, his shadow-travel had the same restrictions, and since he was a son of Hades, if either of them could break those rules, it should have been him.

But, for whatever reason, Naomi found herself in her mother's garden on her first try.

A few feet away, she saw Nico digging a hole in one of her mother's flowerbeds. Naomi fought a wince—Persephone wasn't going to be too happy about that.

"What are you doing?"

Nico jumped, a spew of Italian leaving his mouth as he turned, a goblet in his hand. "Porca puttana! Gods, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Payback," Naomi said, remembering all the times he'd snuck up on her. "Now answer my question—what are you doing?"

"Nothing," he said.

Naomi raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

He huffed a sigh. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm... I'm summoning my mom."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Naomi asked.

"You've gotten a chance to talk to your dad," Nico said. "You're going to stop me from talking to my mom?"

Naomi fought a sigh. He had a point.

She drew Asphodel. "Fine," she said. "I'll keep watch."

Nico looked surprised. "You're... you're not going to stop me?"

This time, Naomi did sigh. "I know what it's like to want to know where you came from," she said quietly. "Who am I to stop you from trying to find out?"

Nico looked down. "Thanks," he said quietly. Then he cleared his throat, and began to pour the goblet of wine in his hand into the hole. He began to chant: "Let the dead taste again. Let them rise and take this offering. Maria di Angelo, show yourself!"

White smoke gathered. A human figure formed, but it wasn't Nico's mother. It was a girl with dark hair, olive skin, and the silvery clothes of a Hunter.

"Bianca," Nico said. "But—"

Don't summon our mother, Nico, she warned. She is the one spirit you are forbidden to see.

"Why?" he demanded. "What's our father hiding?"

Pain, Bianca said. Hatred. A curse that stretches back to the Great Prophecy.

"What do you mean?" Nico said. "I have to know!"

The knowledge will only hurt you. Remember what I said: holding grudges is a fatal flaw for children of Hades.

"I know that," Nico said. "But I'm not the same as I used to be, Bianca. Stop trying to protect me!"

Brother, you don't understand—

Nico swiped his hand through the mist, and Bianca's image dissipated.

"Maria di Angelo," he said again. "Speak to me!"

A different image formed. It was a scene rather than a single ghost. In the mist, Naomi saw Nico and Bianca as little children, playing in the lobby of an elegant hotel, chasing each other around marble columns.

A woman sat on a nearby sofa. She wore a black dress, gloves, and a black veiled hat like a star from an old 1940s movie. She had Bianca's smile and Nico's eyes.

On a chair next to her sat a large oily man in a black pinstripe suit—Hades. He was leaning toward the woman, using his hands as he talked, like he was agitated.

"Please, my dear," he said. "You must come to the Underworld. I don't care what Persephone thinks! I can keep you safe there."

"No, my love." She spoke with an Italian accent. "Raise our children in the land of the dead? I will not do this."

"Maria, listen to me. The war in Europe has turned the other gods against me. A prophecy has been made. My children are no longer safe. Poseidon and Zeus have forced me into an agreement. None of us are to have demigod children ever again."

"But you already have Nico and Bianca. Surely—"

"No! The prophecy warns of a child who turns sixteen. Zeus has decreed that the children I currently have must be turned over to Camp Half-Blood for proper training, but I know what he means. At best they'll be watched, imprisoned, turned against their father. Even more likely, he will not take a chance. He won't allow my demigod children to reach sixteen. He'll find a way to destroy them, and I won't risk that!"

"Certamente," Maria said. "We will stay together. Zeus is un imbecile."

Naomi couldn't help but admire her courage, even as Hades glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Maria, please. I told you, Zeus gave me a deadline of last week to turn over the children. His wrath will be horrible, and I cannot hide you forever. As long as you are with the children, you are in danger too."

Maria smiled. It was almost creepy how much she looked like her daughter. "You are a god, my love. You will protect us. But I will not take Nico and Bianca to the Underworld."

Hades wrung his hands. "Then, there is another option. I know a place in the desert where time stands still. I could send the children there, just for a while, for their own safety, and we could be together. I will build you a golden palace by the Styx."

Maria di Angelo laughed gently. "You are a kind man, my love. A generous man. The other gods should see you as I do, and they would not fear you so. But Nico and Bianca need their mother. Besides, they are only children. The gods wouldn't really hurt them."

"You don't know my family," Hades said darkly. "Please, Maria, I can't lose you."

She touched his lips with her fingers. "You will not lose me. Wait for me while I get my purse. Watch the children."

She kissed the Lord of the Dead and rose from the sofa. Hades watched her walk upstairs as if her every step away caused him pain.

A moment later, he tensed. The children stopped playing as if they sensed something too.

"No!" Hades said. But even his godly powers were too slow. He only had time to erect a wall of black energy around the children before the hotel exploded.

The force was so violent, the entire mist image dissolved.

When it came into focus again, Naomi saw Hades kneeling in the ruins, holding the broken form of Maria di Angelo. Fires still burned all around him. Lightning flashed across the sky, and thunder rumbled.

Little Nico and Bianca stared at their mother uncomprehendingly. The Fury Alecto appeared behind them, hissing and flapping her leathery wings. The children didn't seem to notice her.

"Zeus!" Hades shook his fist at the sky. "I will crush you for this! I will bring her back!"

"My lord, you cannot," Alecto warned. "You of all immortals must respect the laws of death."

Hades glowed with rage. Naomi thought he would show his true form and vaporize his own children, but at the last moment he seemed to regain control.

"Take them," he told Alecto, choking back a sob. "Wash their memories clean in the Lethe and bring them to the Lotus Hotel. Zeus will not harm them there."

"As you wish, my lord," Alecto said. "And the woman's body?

"Take her as well," he said bitterly. "Give her the ancient rites."

Alecto, the children, and Maria's body dissolved into shadows, leaving Hades alone in the ruins.

"I warned you," a new voice said.

Hades turned. A girl in a multicolored dress stood by the smoldering remains of the sofa. She had short black hair and sad eyes. She was no more than twelve. Naomi didn't know her, but she looked strangely familiar.

"You dare come here?" Hades growled. "I should blast you to dust!"

"You cannot," the girl said. "The power of Delphi protects me."

With a chill, Naomi realized she was looking at the Oracle of Delphi, back when she was alive and young. Somehow seeing her like this was even spookier than seeing her as a mummy.

"You've killed the woman I loved!" Hades roared. "Your prophecy brought us to this.'"

He loomed over the girl, but she didn't flinch.

"Zeus ordained the explosion to destroy the children," she said, "because you defied his will. I had nothing to do with it. And I did warn you to hide them sooner."

"I couldn't! Maria would not let me! Besides, they were innocent."

"Nevertheless, they are your children, which makes them dangerous. Even if you put them away in the Lotus Hotel, you only delay the problem. Nico and Bianca will never be able to rejoin the world lest they turn sixteen."

"Because of your so-called Great Prophecy. And you have forced me into an oath to have no other children. You have left me with nothing!"

"I foresee the future," the girl said. "I cannot change it."

Black fire lit the god's eyes, and Naomi knew something bad was something. She wanted to yell at the girl to hide or run, but her voice was gone.

"Then, Oracle, hear the words of Hades," he growled. "Perhaps I cannot bring back Maria. Nor can I bring you to an early death. But your soul is still mortal, and I can curse you."

The girl's eyes widened. "You would not—"

"I swear," Hades said, "as long as my children remain outcasts, as long as I labor under the curse of your Great Prophecy, the Oracle of Delphi will never have another mortal host. You will never rest in peace. No other will take your place. Your body will wither and die, and still the Oracle's spirit will be locked inside you. You will speak your bitter prophecies until you crumble to nothing. The Oracle will die with you!"

The girl screamed, and the misty image was blasted to shreds. Nico fell to his knees in Persephone's garden, his face white with shock. Standing in front of him was the real Hades, towering in his black robes and scowling down at his son.

Naomi staggered back, finding it hard to breathe.

"And just what," he asked Nico, "do you think you're doing?"

Naomi would rather march back into battle weaponless than spend another second in her mother's garden arguing with the Lord of the Dead while her mother, grandmother, and stepbrother watched her like they were counting the seconds before Hades incinerated her.

"I have told you already," he said, his voice hard like the black stone most of his furniture was made out of. "I will not come to the aid of a family that has never come to my aid."

"You said yourself that your land was already crowded enough," Naomi argued. "Well, it's going to get real crowded in here if you don't help us with this battle! Do you know how many mortals will die? Millions. Probably all of them! Why would Kronos spare any of them? Is that what you want? A kingdom of souls packed like sardines?"

Demeter scoffed unhappily. "This place is already a pig-sty," she said. "I loathe to imagine how much worse it could be."

"Demeter," Hades said, exasperated.

"Just saying."

"Father—" Nico tried.

"Quiet," Hades said harshly. "I will deal with you later."

"There won't be a later if you don't help us!" Naomi shouted.

"You can beg all you want, little girl, but I won't help you," Hades snarled. "If you knew what the gods had wanted to do with you when you were born, you wouldn't even—"

"Hades!" Naomi's mother rarely sounded angry, but now her voice dripped with foreign fury. "You swore not to speak of it."

Naomi's desperation to get Hades to join the battle wavered. "Not to speak of what, Mom?"

"It doesn't matter!" Persephone said, coming down from the dais to stand in front of Naomi. "Kore, I know you want to do what you think is best, but there are some causes that are lost."

"Excuse me?" Hades asked.

"You know what I mean, my lord," Persephone said tensely. "There is little hope of this battle ending in your favor, Naomi. I know it's awful to think, but if you stayed down here—"

Naomi stepped away from her mother. "No," she said firmly. "I'm not going to cower down here while my friends fight up there."

"Cower?" Hades repeated, his voice dangerous.

If Naomi had any sense left, she'd be groveling for forgiveness at that moment, as Hades's eyes lit with the same dark fury she'd seen just moments ago, when he cursed the Oracle to a life of endless misery.

But Naomi was already miserable. Beckendorf was dead. Countless other campers—kids—were dead, and more would be joining them.

"That's what you're doing," Naomi said, ignoring Persephone's warning look and Nico's wide-eyed terror. "While you're here hiding from the fight, waiting until Kronos might get weaker, there are kids—my friends—up there dying to save Olympus—to save you three from fading into nothing. And I get that you might not care, because we're not gods. Because we're just fragile mortals who're only around for seconds in your eyes before we're gone. But they're dying for you. For all of the gods, because Kronos has already chosen which ones he's going to spare, and guess what? It's none of you!"

Naomi looked at Demeter. "Katie is up there fighting. And Miranda and Asher and every other kid in Cabin Four." She looked at Hades. "And Nico wants to fight—the only reason he isn't is because I was stupid enough to think you might care about him enough to listen to him." Finally, she looked at her mother, whose moss-green eyes were glassy. "And I'm willing to die up there if it means Kronos doesn't destroy the world. Are any of you willing to say the same?"

None of the gods spoke. Naomi figured at least one, maybe two out of the three were considering incinerating her for insulting them.

"We might be weak in your eyes," Naomi said, "and we might be easy to kill. But what you don't—what you can't—understand is the fear you have to overcome to go to war against a Titan and his army, knowing there's a good chance you won't live to see the end of it. That's what makes us heroes. Not the powers you gave us—the powers you didn't."

"You think I don't understand death, child?" Hades asked, his voice dangerously empty, like the eye of a storm.

"Not the way we do," Naomi said. "You can't die. We can—and we're still fighting."

"Then go!" Hades snarled. "Go back to your precious fight. And when you come back here the hard way, maybe you'll understand how foolish you truly are."

He didn't give Naomi a chance to argue. He waved his hand with an angry flourish, and the next second, Naomi was stumbling into Percy's arms back in the Plaza Hotel.

Naomi was too tired to think about the irony of her falling for Percy in the literal sense.

"Whoa," he said, steadying her. "Hey, how'd it go with Hades? I had a dream of you and Nico in your mom's garden, with the Oracle and Hades's curse and—you're crying. Why are you crying?"

Naomi touched her face. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

"Hades isn't coming to help," she whispered. "Neither are Persephone and Demeter. We're... we're on our own. Really on our own." She swallowed hard. "Also I think I just succeeded in making the Lord of the Dead hate my guts completely independent of my status as his wife's bastard, so... yay for me."

Percy sighed. He didn't look surprised—he'd probably had less hope in Naomi and Nico talking Hades into helping than she did. "At least you tried," he said. "Get some sleep while you can."

Chapter 105: xiv. darkness unbound snuffs out the flames

Chapter Text

IF MORPHEUS WASN'T FIGHTING FOR THE TITANS, Naomi might have sent him a prayer of thanks for giving her a dreamless sleep.

But he was, so she kept her prayers to herself.

Just about everyone else was asleep when she woke up, so Naomi took the chance to take a quick shower and change out of her old clothes, which smelled of her mother's garden (not an unpleasant smell at all, but it reminded her of the argument with Hades—something she didn't need right now).

When she stepped out, tightening the straps of her breastplate, she found Annabeth doing the same.

"What are you doing?" Naomi asked, raising an eyebrow. "You should be resting, not putting on armor."

"I'm fine," Annabeth insisted, though she was still pale. She was favoring her uninjured arm pretty heavily. "I feel good as new."

Naomi gave her an unimpressed look, but before she could argue, Annabeth asked, "Where's Percy? We should wake him up."

Naomi sighed. She knew there was no talking Annabeth down—she was stubborn to a fault.

"He's over there," she said, pointing at the bed he'd passed out on. "See if he's drowned in his own drool yet."

Annabeth snickered, walking over to him. Naomi tied her hair up as Annabeth went to wake him up.

Percy beat her to it, sitting up so fast he banged his head on her shield.

Naomi winced in sympathy.

"Ow!"

"Sorry, Percy," Annabeth said. "I was just about to wake you."

Percy rubbed his head, a troubled look on his face.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said. "What—what are you doing in your armor? You should be resting."

"That's what I told her," Naomi grumbled, walking over to re-do Annabeth's mess of a ponytail.

"I'm fine," Annabeth told them both. "That nectar and ambrosia fixed me up."

"Uh-huh," Percy said, unconvinced. "You can't seriously go out and fight."

She offered Percy her good hand and helped him up. "You're going to need every person you have," she said. "I just looked in my shield. There's an army—"

"Heading south into Central Park," Percy said. "Yeah, I know."

He told them about his dreams—of the breach in the underwater Cyclops armory and Tyson charging into battle; Ethan, Kronos, and the army at Medusa's lair. He also quickly filled Naomi in on what she'd missed while she was in the Underworld—namely the diplomacy meeting with Ethan and Prometheus. Every word out of his mouth made Naomi more and more worried.

"Do you think Ethan suspects about your weak spot?" she asked.

"I don't know," Percy admitted. "He didn't tell Kronos anything, but if he figures it out—"

"We can't let him," Annabeth said.

"We won't," Naomi promised. She'd make sure, no matter the cost.

Ethan wasn't her friend anymore. She had to stop deluding herself into thinking there was any saving him. The friend she'd known was gone—there was only a stranger left in his skin.

"Any idea what surprise Kronos is talking about?" Percy asked.

Annabeth shook her head. "I didn't see anything in the shield, but I don't like surprises."

"Agreed."

"So," she said, "are you going to argue about me coming along?"

"Nah. You'd just beat me up."

Annabeth managed a laugh, which was good to hear. Percy grabbed his sword, and they went to rally the troops.

Thalia and the head counselors were waiting for them at the reservoir. The lights of the city were blinking on at twilight. Streetlights glowed around the shore of the lake, making the water and the trees look even spookier.

"They're coming," Thalia confirmed, pointing north with a silver arrow. "One of my scouts just reported they've crossed the Harlem River. There was no way to hold them back. The army..." She sighed. "It's huge."

"We'll hold them at the park," Percy said. "Grover, you ready?"

He nodded. "As ready as we'll ever be. If my nature spirits can stop them anywhere, this is the place."

"Yes, we will!" said another voice. A very old, fat satyr pushed through the crowd, stumbling over his own spear. He was dressed in wood-bark armor that only covered half of his belly.

"Leneus?" Percy said.

"Don't act so surprised," he huffed. "I am a leader of the Council, and you did tell me to find Grover. Well, I found him, and I'm not going to let a mere outcast lead the satyrs without my help!"

Behind Leneus's back, Grover made gagging motions, but the old satyr grinned like he was the savior of the day. "Never fear! We'll show those Titans!"

Somehow, Percy managed to keep a straight face. "Um... yeah. Well, Grover—you won't be alone. Annabeth and the Athena cabin will make their stand here. And me, Nay, and... Thalia?"

She patted him on the shoulder. "Say no more. The Hunters are ready."

Percy looked at the other counselors. "That leaves the rest of you with a job just as important. You have to guard the other entrances to Manhattan. You know how tricky Kronos is. He'll hope to distract us with this big army and sneak another force in somewhere else. It's up to you to make sure that doesn't happen. Has each cabin chosen a bridge or tunnel?"

The counselors nodded grimly.

"Then let's do it," Percy said. "Good hunting, everybody!"

They heard the army before they saw it.

The noise was like a bunch of explosions in the silence. At the north end of the reservoir, the enemy vanguard broke through the woods—a warrior in golden armor leading a battalion of Laistrygonian giants with huge bronze axes. Hundreds of other monsters poured out behind them.

"Positions!" Annabeth yelled.

Her cabinmates scrambled. The idea was to make the enemy army break around the reservoir. To get to the campers, they'd have to follow the trails, which meant they'd be marching in narrow columns on either side of the water.

At first, the plan seemed to work. The enemy divided and streamed toward them along the shore. When they were halfway across, the campers' defenses kicked in. The jogging trail erupted in Greek fire, incinerating many of the monsters instantly. Others flailed around, engulfed in green flames. Athena campers threw grappling hooks around the largest giants and pulled them to the ground.

In the woods on the right, the Hunters sent a volley of silver arrows into the enemy line, destroying twenty or thirty dracaenae, but more marched behind them. A bolt of lightning crackled out of the sky and fried a Laistrygonian giant to ashes, and Naomi knew Thalia must have been doing her daughter-of-Zeus thing.

Grover raised his pipes and played a quick tune. A roar went up from the woods on both sides as every tree, rock, and bush seemed to sprout a spirit. Dryads and satyrs raised their clubs and charged. The trees wrapped around the monsters, strangling them. Grass grew around the feet of the enemy archers. Stones flew up and hit dracaenae in the faces.

The enemy slogged forward. Giants smashed through the trees, and naiads faded as their life sources were destroyed. Hellhounds lunged at the timber wolves, knocking them aside. Enemy archers returned fire, and a Hunter fell from a high branch.

"Percy! Naomi!" Annabeth grabbed their arms and pointed at the reservoir. The Titan in gold armor wasn't waiting for his forces to advance around the sides. He was charging toward them, walking straight across the top of the lake. His skin was covered in yellow-orange flames, like his entire body was on fire.

A Greek fire bomb exploded right on top of him, but he raised his palm and sucked the flames out of the air.

"Hyperion," Annabeth said in awe. "The Lord of Light. Titan of the east."

"Bad?" Percy guessed.

"Next to Atlas, he's the greatest Titan warrior. In the old days, four Titans controlled the four corners of the world. Hyperion was the east—the most powerful. He was the father of Helios, the first sun god."

"He's on fire," Naomi said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"He's the Titan of heavenly light," Annabeth said. "And heat. Makes sense that he'd be made of flames."

Understanding crashed over Naomi like a tidal wave. In the blink of an eye, she knew—

Darkness unbound snuffs out the flames.

Her mother's warning, Hestia's talk, Athena's advice—they had all been about a choice. Naomi had thought it was about the first of her lines in the prophecy, about what side she claimed victory for, but now, she knew—that wasn't the choice she had to make.

It was like she was the Oracle, seeing a future that forked into two paths. In one, the shadows at Naomi's disposal snuffed out the flames in the hearth on Mt. Olympus. Gods fell, her friends died, and she claimed victory for the Titans.

In the other, the darkness inside of Naomi went up against the heavenly flames of Hyperion.

The future's as much preordained as it is manufactured by our own choices.

This was the choice Naomi was supposed to make—the hearth or the Titan. She almost laughed—it was hardly a choice at all.

"This is my fight," Naomi whispered. She looked up at the sky, and wondered if the Fates—wherever they were—were watching. Louder, she said, "This is what I choose."

She got no response from the sky, but one of the many knots in her chest came undone. She understood her role in the prophecy, in the war. She knew what she was meant to do.

"I have to fight Hyperion."

"Naomi, no," Annabeth said. The look in her eyes told Naomi she'd made the connection, too—and it scared her. A lot. She shook her head vehemently. "You can't—"

"I have to," Naomi said. "Don't you see? This is the choice I have to make. I have to beat him—I have to snuff out the flames and claim victory for us."

"Naomi, let me take him," Percy said, almost desperately. "He's a Titan, I have the Curse of Achilles. I can—"

"It has to be me," Naomi insisted. "You know that as well as I do. Prophecies have to come true, one way or another. I have to do this."

Naomi looked from Percy to Annabeth—from one love to another. If this was her final stand, at least she could see them one last time. At least she could say goodbye.

That was enough.

"You have to let me do this," Naomi whispered. "Please."

The space between Annabeth's brows wrinkled faintly, the way it usually did when she was coming to terms with something she'd rather not come to terms with. She stared at Naomi for a long time, and Naomi wondered if she was trying to come up with the words to dissuade her from going, from facing a destiny that might very well kill her.

But she didn't say anything.

Instead, Annabeth grabbed her face and kissed her.

It was at once a new sensation and the most familiar feeling in the world, kissing Annabeth. It was like something Naomi had spent an entire past life doing; like her body, her mind, her soul had been waiting for this kiss for too long. It felt as right as kissing Percy.

It was right.

When Annabeth pulled away, Naomi was stricken speechless. She blinked, trying to remember where she was, what she was doing, why she was doing it instead of kissing Annabeth forever.

"Now we're even," Annabeth whispered, and Naomi's heart skipped a beat or two. "Do what you have to. Just make it back to us."

Naomi managed a nod, her face warm. "Yeah, I—got it. I will... do that."

She turned to face the flaming Titan, who was still a few yards away. It took more effort than it should have for Naomi to move her feet. She was glad when Percy and Annabeth went silent, because one more word from either of them and Naomi would have changed her mind. She would have taken that voice's oath and let the Titans win.

They would hate her for it, for letting the world fall to save them, but it wouldn't matter, because they would be alive.

Naomi forced herself toward Hyperion, keeping her chin raised. She thought of what she'd told Hades, how the fallibility of half-bloods was what made them heroes. She still believed that, even though it terrified her to her core.

Her mother was the queen of the dead; Naomi had met the god of death and lived to tell the tale; she had walked through darkness that had killed hundreds before her. None of that made the prospect of death any less terrifying.

But she wouldn't let that stop her. She wouldn't run away from her fate, no matter how much she wanted to. She'd let her fear bolster her spirit, and remind her of everything she fought for.

It was the only way to keep going.

Twenty feet away, Hyperion raised his sword. His eyes were as gold as Kronos's, but brighter, like drops of pure sun lived behind his eyelids.

"The forbidden daughter," Hyperion mused. "I see you've made the wrong choice."

"We'll see," Naomi said.

"Oh, we will," the Titan agreed. "At least, I will see. I will see your friends weep when I cut you down and drag your corpse through their ranks. Do you think that sea brat will be so upset he'll attack blindly? I'd imagine so. He seems like the Achilles type. He has his curse, after all." He smirked. "You should be honored—you'll be the Patroclus to his Achilles."

"Achilles tore his enemies apart," Naomi reminded him.

"And fell to a single arrow," Hyperion said.

"An arrow guided by the hand of a god—a god who replaced your son, if I'm not mistaken. Your faded son."

Clearly being best friends with someone as sarcastic and provoking as Percy had rubbed off on her.

Hyperion's faint smirk twisted into a snarl. "If Typhon doesn't tear him apart, I'll take great joy in rending Apollo limb from limb."

"You won't get the chance," Naomi told him.

"You could have been Kronos's champion," Hyperion told her. "That was your destiny—and you threw it away. How foolish of a hero are you?"

"My destiny is to destroy you," Naomi said, as if she could speak it into being. Maybe she could. Maybe that's how some fates worked. "And I'd like to get on with it."

She charged. She knew she wouldn't get the first blow, so she was prepared when Hyperion's body ignited in a column of flames. Shadows rose out of the ground in front of her, shading the brilliance from her eyes. She raised her swords, catching Hyperion's blade in a valley between black and bronze metal, half a second before it would have cleaved her skull in half. She shouldn't have been able to handle the weight of his swing, but shadows coiled around her arms, forming out of thin air, lending her strength.

The darkness Naomi had walked through had had one purpose—to grant its power to those worthy of it. Naomi had passed the test. Now, just as they had on the battlefield outside of the Labyrinth, the shadows once more came to her aid, lending her their strength, their power.

Even with it, the shockwave of Hyperion's blade meeting Asphodel and Hemlock sent a ten-foot ring of water across the surface of the lake. Hyperion's fire raged on with a vengeance, not even flickering in the quake.

Naomi stepped into the Titan's space, ignoring the heat on her skin as she pressed forward with her swords. Upper body strength had never been her strong suit, and even with the shadows, she doubted she could do no more than hold her own. She wasn't naïve or arrogant enough to believe she could actually beat a Titan in a sword-fight.

But Hyperion didn't know that.

"Pitiful," he snarled, easily pressing his blade down. The screech of metal against metal made her ears ache, but she ignored it. "Are you truly that arrogant, to think you can best me?"

As he pressed down more, Naomi dropped down to one knee, twisting her body out of the way as her swords came apart. All the momentum brought Hyperion's sword down on the concrete, hard enough that a ten-foot-long crack formed in the road.

In the half-second it took for Hyperion to bring his sword back up out of the ground, Naomi swiped at the Titan's arm with Asphodel and danced back a few steps.

Hyperion roared, though it was with annoyance, not pain. "Foolish girl," he sneered. "Is that the best trick you have?"

"I'd say it was pretty neat," Naomi said. "Guess Stygian iron and heavenly light don't mix—who would've thought?"

Hyperion looked down at his arm. It was shallow, hardly more than a nick, but where Asphodel had met his fiery skin, the fires had flickered out, leaving only golden skin and a golden cut behind.

"One cut will not take me down," Hyperion sneered.

"Oh, I know," Naomi sighed. "We'd better get on with it, then, right big guy?"

Hyperion charged without giving her an answer—which she supposed was an answer. Naomi barely got out of the way in time to dodge his swing. He recovered in an instant, swinging down at her again. She deflected the blade with Hemlock, thrusting at Hyperion's leg with Asphodel. He lunged out of the way, the tip of his blade catching her forearm.

Naomi figured it would only be the first of her injuries.

She feigned a strike with Hemlock, then jabbed with Asphodel as he moved to block the bronze sword. The black metal grazed his side, in between the straps of his armor on his side. He snarled with fury, and the hilt of his sword came down hard on her left shoulder. He must have hit a nerve or a pressure point, because her hand opened, Asphodel falling out of it.

Before Naomi could even register the loss, the tip of Hyperion's blade slashed across her chest, cutting through the bronze breastplate like a knife through jello.

Naomi staggered back, trying to regain her senses and catch her breath.

Hyperion, of course, needed no such reprieve.

He came at her again, and she only just managed to deflect the blow with Hemlock. She rolled to the side, searching for Asphodel. Hemlock was fine to block with, but only Asphodel seemed to have any effect on the Titan.

And just her luck—she couldn't see it anywhere.

She knew it would return to her finger in a minute as a ring, but she didn't have a minute. She didn't even have a second.

Hyperion threw his hand out, and the flames on his arm shot out, engulfing her bicep. Naomi dropped and rolled, but the flames had done their damage already. Her sleeve was gone, reduced to ash. Her skin was bright red, her nerves screaming in agony.

Naomi grit her teeth. She'd been burned before. She would survive.

But it still hurt like a bitch.

She made a desperate swipe at Hyperion's throat, but he was too tall, and Hemlock was too short a blade to reach. His free hand came up and smacked the sword out of her hand, sending it flying away. The sudden loss of her weapon and the force of Hyperion's hit made her fall back.

And now she stood before the Titan lord of the east, completely empty-handed.

Naomi waved her hand in a cutting motion, and a solidified shadow followed the direction, slashing at Hyperion's legs, but he hardly faltered.

Still, where her shadow touched him, the flames flickered and died.

Darkness unbound snuffs out the flames.

But what did unbound mean? Her darkness had always felt boundless, always there at her beck and call. How could it become unbound if it was never bound in the first place?

Even as she thought it, though, she realized that wasn't true. She'd walked through darkness born of Tartarus, of the void itself. The shadow-travel, the shadow-warriors, the shadow-cuts—they were all neat little tricks, but that couldn't be the extent of what the darkness had given her. Not when it came from one of the oldest beings in the known universe, from the Lord of the Abyss.

The darkness had given her something else, something locked inside of her that she had yet to see. In the deepest part of her mind, she knew it was there, and she feared it—maybe that was why it hadn't come out yet. Or maybe it feared the light, or loathed it, preferring instead to live inside of her, safe in the darkness that she was.

Or maybe—maybe—it had just been waiting, growing stronger every day, with every breath she took, until the moment she needed it most. Maybe it lingered just within her reach, waiting for its cue, waiting for her to call it out.

So she did.

As Hyperion raised his sword, smirking as if he knew this was the final blow that would end her, she called on every facet of darkness within her.

Darkness as old as the universe itself answered with a fatal roar.

From her skin, darkness emanated the way light emanated from the sun, the way flames emanated from Hyperion's skin. Where gods and Titans glowed, she darkened. Like smoke from a fire, the shadows billowed out around her, thick and suffocating and unforgiving.

The Titan faltered, just for a moment, and it may have been a trick of her vision, but Naomi almost thought he looked... afraid. Not of the dark—no being this great would fear something so innocuous.

No... he was afraid of her.

The air around her thickened into more shadows. She wasn't summoning them anymore, she was making them out of nothing, crafting them out of thin air. They blotted out the sun. It was broad daylight, but it might as well have been the dead of night with how dark it became.

Naomi got to her feet, steady and sure. A dome of darkness fashioned itself around them, isolating them from the rest of the battle, from the rest of the world. It was only Naomi and Hyperion now—the darkness and the flames.

"You cannot beat me," Hyperion said coldly.

But he sounded just a little uncertain.

"I'm not going to beat you," she said, her voice strangely calm. "I'm going to destroy you."

The shadows rushed at him, engulfing him in an instant. He roared, fighting them, cutting through them with his sword, but every shadow he sliced through was replaced by three more. They coated every inch of his fiery skin, disintegrated his armor, darkened his sunlight eyes.

"YOU—WILL—NOT—BEAT—ME!" Hyperion roared. The shadows exploded away from him, but they rushed right back in, bringing the Titan to his knees.

The dome around them retracted, letting the sun back in, but it was no use. Hyperion's flames were gone, leaving only golden skin and empty eyes.

Naomi summoned Asphodel, who'd returned to her by then. A foreign cruelty seized her, but she didn't fight it—war was cruel. Sometimes, you had no choice but to be cruel right back.

Hyperion's voice was like the last flicker of a dying fire. "You... will not... beat me."

Naomi raised Asphodel. "I just did."

And she slashed the Stygian iron through his neck, decapitating the Titan in one swipe.

Chapter 106: xv. party time

Chapter Text

THERE WAS SILENCE IN THE AFTERMATH. Naomi had been so focused on her fight with Hyperion, so zoned in on taking him down that she'd forgotten all about the Titan's forces.

It didn't matter, though—they'd been just as focused on her, on watching their Titan general fall to a teenage girl.

Hyperion was nothing but dust now, which blew away in the faint breeze that followed. Naomi watched, wondering if she was meant to feel grief. Was it wrong that she didn't? Or was it just?

A hand touched hers. "Nay."

Annabeth was beside her, studying her with wide eyes.

Another hand touched her shoulder. She looked to see Percy on her other side, watching her, expression worried. She didn't understand why until he said quietly, "Your arm."

Naomi looked down. The burn on her arm from Hyperion's flames was an angry, dark red, already blistering, but as the three of them watched, shadows coiled around the wound. They wouldn't heal her, she knew, but the darkness was a welcome cold on the feverish, burned skin.

Before Naomi could even start to regather her wits, Kronos unleashed his surprise.

"REEEET!"

The squeal echoed through upper Manhattan. Demigods and monsters alike froze in terror.

"Why does that sound like—" Grover looked panicked. "It can't be!"

It took a moment for Naomi's adrenaline-flooded brain to catch up (ironic, right?). Then she remembered: two years ago, they'd gotten a "gift" from Pan—a huge boar that carried them across the Southwest (after trying and failing to kill them). The boar had a similar squeal, but what they were hearing now was higher pitched, shriller.

"REEEEEET!" A huge pink creature soared over the reservoir—a Thanksgiving Day Parade nightmare blimp with wings.

"A sow!" Annabeth cried. "Take cover!"

Demigods scattered as the winged pig swooped down. Her wings were pink like a flamingo's, which matched her skin perfectly, but it was hard to think of the creature as cute when her hooves slammed into the ground, barely missing one of Annabeth's siblings. The pig stomped and tore down half an acre of trees, belching a cloud of noxious gas. Then it took off again, circling around for another strike.

"Don't tell me that thing is from Greek mythology," Percy complained.

"Afraid so," Annabeth said. "The Clazmonian Sow. It terrorized Greek towns back in the day."

"Let me guess," Percy said. "Hercules beat it."

"Nope," Annabeth said. "As far as I know, no hero has ever beaten it."

"Perfect," he muttered.

The Titans' army was recovering from its shock. They must've realized the pig wasn't after them.

The campers only had a few seconds before the Titans' forces were ready to fight, and the demigods and satyrs were still in a panic. Every time the sow belched, Grover's nature spirits yelped and faded back into their trees.

"That pig has to go." Percy grabbed a grappling hook from one of Annabeth's siblings. "I'll take care of it. You guys hold the rest of the enemy. Push them back!"

"But, Percy," Grover said, "what if we can't?"

Percy studied the battlefield, looking conflicted. "Retreat if you need to," he said. "Just slow them down. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Naomi wasn't sure how it was possible, but things went from terrible to absolutely dreadful.

She barely noticed when Percy returned from taking out the sow, every ounce of her remaining energy and concentration focused on fighting. She'd never seen this many monsters in one place, had never dreamed it was even possible.

Her arm still hurt, but it was easy to forget about it in favor of ducking under giants' swipes and dodging drachaena spears.

Campers were falling left and right—most of them just injured, but some of them dead. Others went missing, thrown by monsters or buried under rubble. And the monsters just kept coming.

Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy raced from block to block, trying to shore up their defenses, but there was only so much they could do. Their numbers were dwindling.

As the night wore on and the moon rose, they backed up foot-by-foot until they were only a block from the Empire State Building in any direction. Friends appeared at their side and disappeared into the crowd seconds later—Grover, Thalia, Mrs. O'Leary, Skia. Annabeth used her invisibility cap to sneak behind the enemy lines, taking out monsters before they could even realize they were being killed.

But it still wasn't enough.

"Hold your lines!" Katie shouted, somewhere off to Naomi's left.

The problem was, there were too few of them to hold anything. The entrance to Olympus was twenty feet behind them. A ring of brave demigods, Hunters, and nature spirits guarded the doors. Naomi slashed and hacked, her shadow-warriors cutting through as many monsters as they could before they were swatted out of existence, but it was draining. Eventually she had to call off her shadows and just fight with her swords, lest she pass out in the middle of battle.

Behind the enemy troops, a few blocks to the east, a bright light began to shine. Naomi thought it was the sunrise. Then she realized Kronos was riding toward them on a golden chariot. A dozen Laistrygonian giants bore torches before him. Two Hyperboreans carried his black-and-purple banners. The Titan lord looked fresh and rested, his powers at full strength. He was taking his time advancing, letting them wear themselves out.

Annabeth appeared next to Naomi and Percy. "We have to fall back to the doorway. Hold it at all costs!"

Percy opened his mouth to order a retreat, but a hunting horn cut him off.

It cut through the noise like a fire alarm. A chorus of horns answered from all around them, echoing off the buildings of Manhattan.

"Not the Hunters," Thalia said at Percy's questioning look. "We're all here."

"Then who?"

The horns got louder. Naomi couldn't tell where they were coming from because of the echo, but it sounded like an entire army was approaching.

She was afraid it might be more enemies, but Kronos's forces looked as confused as the campers. Giants lowered their clubs. Dracaenae hissed. Even Kronos's honor guard looked uneasy.

Then, to their left, a hundred monsters cried out at once. Kronos's entire northern flank surged forward. Naomi thought they were doomed, but they didn't attack. They ran straight past the campers and crashed into their southern allies.

A new blast of horns shattered the night. The air shimmered. In a blur of movement, an entire cavalry appeared as if dropping out of light speed.

"Yeah, baby!" a voice wailed. "PARTY!"

A shower of arrows arced over their heads and slammed into the enemy, vaporizing a hundred demons. But these weren't regular arrows—they made whizzy sounds as they flew, like WHEEEEEEE! Some had pinwheels attached to them. Others had boxing gloves rather than points.

"Centaurs!" Annabeth yelled.

The Party Pony army exploded into their midst in a riot of colors—tie-dyed shirts, rainbow Afro wigs, oversize sunglasses, and war-painted faces. Some had slogans scrawled across their flanks like HORSEZ PWN or KRONOS SUX.

Hundreds of them filled the entire block. Naomi had trouble even processing everything she saw, but she knew if she were an enemy, she'd be running.

"Percy!" Chiron shouted across the sea of wild centaurs. He was dressed in armor from the waist up, his bow in his hand, and he was grinning in satisfaction. "Sorry we're late!"

"DUDE!" Another centaur yelled. "Talk later. WASTE MONSTERS NOW!"

He locked and loaded a double-barrel paint gun and blasted an enemy hellhound bright pink. The paint must've been mixed with Celestial bronze dust or something, because as soon as it splattered the hellhound, the monster yelped and dissolved into a pink-and-black puddle.

"PARTY PONIES!'" a centaur yelled. "SOUTH FLORIDA!"

Somewhere across the battlefield, a twangy voice yelled back, "HEART OF TEXAS CHAPTER!"

"HAWAII OWNS YOUR FACES!" a third one shouted

It was the most beautiful sight Naomi had ever had the privilege of witnessing. The entire Titan army turned and fled, pushed back by a flood of paintballs, arrows, swords, and NERF baseball bats. The centaurs trampled everything in their path.

"Stop running, you fools!" Kronos yelled. "Stand and ACKK!"

That last part was because a panicked Hyperborean giant stumbled backward and sat on top of him. The Lord of Time disappeared under a giant blue butt.

The campers and centaurs pushed them for several blocks until Chiron yelled, "HOLD! On your promise, HOLD!"

It wasn't easy, but eventually the order got relayed up and down the ranks of centaurs, and they started to pull back, letting the enemy flee.

"Chiron's smart," Annabeth said, wiping the sweat off her face. "If we pursue, we'll get too spread out. We need to regroup."

"But the enemy—" Percy started.

"They're not defeated," she agreed. "But the dawn is coming. At least we've bought some time."

They watched the last of the telkhines scuttle toward the East River. Then, reluctantly, they turned and headed back toward the Empire State Building.

They set up a two-block perimeter, with a command tent at the Empire State Building. Chiron informed them that the Party Ponies had sent chapters from almost every state in the Union—forty from California, two from Rhode Island, thirty from Illinois. Roughly five hundred total had answered his call, but even with that many, they couldn't defend more than a few blocks.

"Dude," said a centaur named Larry. His T-shirt identified him as BIG CHIEF UBER GUY, NEW MEXICO CHAPTER. "That was more fun than our last convention in Vegas!"

"Yeah," said Owen from South Dakota. He wore a black leather jacket and an old WWII army helmet. "We totally wasted them!"

Chiron patted Owen on the back. "You did well, my friends, but don't get careless. Kronos should never be underestimated. Now why don't you visit the diner on West 33rd and get some breakfast? I hear the Delaware chapter found a stash of root beer."

"Root beer!" They almost trampled each other as they galloped off.

Chiron smiled. Annabeth gave him a big hug, and Mrs. O'Leary licked his face.

"Ack," he grumbled. "Enough of that, dog. Yes, I'm glad to see you too."

"Chiron, thanks," Percy said. "Talk about saving the day."

He shrugged. "I'm sorry it took so long. Centaurs travel fast, as you know. We can bend distance as we ride. Even so, getting all the centaurs together was no easy task. The Party Ponies are not exactly organized."

"How'd you get through the magic defenses around the city?" Naomi asked. She moved her arm just slightly, making Will Solace glare at her as he finished applying some kind of salve to the burn on her arm. For a twelve-year-old with no actual medical training, he was kind of intense when he went into healing mode.

"They slowed us down a bit," Chiron admitted, "but I think they're intended mostly to keep mortals out. Kronos doesn't want puny humans getting in the way of his great victory."

"So maybe other reinforcements can get through," Percy said hopefully.

Chiron stroked his beard. "Perhaps, though time is short. As soon as Kronos regroups, he will attack again. Without the element of surprise on our side..."

Naomi understood what he meant. Kronos wasn't beaten. Not by a long shot. He'd be back, tonight at the latest.

"And Typhon?" Percy asked.

Chiron's face darkened. "The gods are tiring. Dionysus was incapacitated yesterday. Typhon smashed his chariot, and the wine god went down somewhere in the Appalachians. No one has seen him since. Hephaestus is out of action as well. He was thrown from the battle so hard he created a new lake in West Virginia. He will heal, but not soon enough to help. The others still fight. They've managed to slow Typhon's approach. But the monster can not be stopped. He will arrive in New York by this time tomorrow. Once he and Kronos combine forces—"

"Then what chance do we have?" Percy said. "We can't hold out another day."

"We'll have to," Thalia said. "I'll see about setting some new traps around the perimeter."

She looked exhausted. Her jacket was smeared in grime and monster dust, but she managed to get to her feet and stagger off.

"I will help her," Chiron decided. "I should make sure my brethren don't go too overboard with the root beer."

Chiron cantered off, and Will secured the gauze around Naomi's bicep. "There," he said, sounding satisfied. "I'll have to change bandages later, if..."

He faltered, but Naomi knew what he was thinking: if we survive that long.

"Thanks, Will," she said, managing a smile.

"Doing my job," Will said with a tired smile. He walked off, already going to help another injured camper.

That left Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy alone once more.

Annabeth cleaned the monster slime off her knife.

"At least your mom is okay," Percy said lightly.

"If you call fighting Typhon okay." She locked eyes with him. "Percy, even with the centaurs' help, I'm starting to think—"

"I know," Percy said. "Listen, there were some... some visions Hestia showed me."

"You mean Luke?" Annabeth asked.

Percy looked only slightly surprised. "Yeah," he said. "You and Thalia and Luke. The first time you met. And the time you met Hermes."

Annabeth slipped her knife back into its sheath. "Luke promised he'd never let me get hurt. He said... he said we'd be a new family, and it would turn out better than his."

"Thalia talked to me earlier," Percy said. "She's afraid—"

"That I can't face Luke," Annabeth said miserably.

Percy nodded. "But there's something else you should know. Ethan seemed to think Luke was still alive inside his body, maybe even fighting Kronos for control."

Annabeth tried to hide it, but Naomi could almost see her mind working on possibilities, maybe even daring to hope.

"I didn't want to tell you," Percy admitted.

She looked up at the Empire State Building. "For so much of my life, I felt like everything was changing, all the time. I didn't have anyone I could rely on." She swallowed. "I ran away when I was seven," she said. "Then with Luke and Thalia, I thought I'd found a family, but it fell apart almost immediately. What I'm saying... I hate it when people let me down, when things are temporary. I think that's why I want to be an architect."

"To build something permanent," Percy said. "A monument to last a thousand years."

She held his eyes. "I guess that sounds like my fatal flaw again."

"I guess I understand how you feel," Percy said. "But Thalia's right. Luke has already betrayed you so many times. He was evil even before Kronos. I don't want him to hurt you anymore."

Annabeth pursed her lips. Naomi could tell she was trying not to get mad. "And you'll understand if I keep hoping there's a chance you're wrong."

Percy looked away.

Across the street, Will and his siblings had set up a field hospital to tend the wounded—dozens of campers and almost as many Hunters. Will was calling out directions, orders, and with a painful jolt, Naomi realized he was their head counselor now. Lee was dead; Michael was missing. Will, only twelve years old, was now the oldest of the Apollo kids.

Naomi's throat felt tight. He was just a kid—they all were.

Annabeth frowned at Percy, and Naomi looked to see him still staring into the distance.

"What?" Annabeth asked.

"Um... nothing, I guess," Percy said, seeming to shake himself out of a trance. He looked out at the avenue.

Then he tensed. A second later, he bolted down the street.

"Percy!" Annabeth called, her and Naomi already running after him. "Where are you going?"

Naomi realized what was wrong as they caught up to him. Paul's Prius was on the street. Percy's parents were still inside, passed out.

"They—they must've seen those blue lights in the sky." Percy rattled the doors but they were locked. "I need to get them out."

"Percy," Naomi said gently.

"I can't leave them there!" He pounded on the windshield. "I have to move them. I have to—"

"Percy, just... just hold on." Annabeth waved to Chiron, who was talking to some centaurs down the block. "We can push the car to a side street, all right? They're going to be fine."

Percy's hands trembled.

Chiron galloped over. "What's... Oh dear. I see."

"They were coming to find me," Percy said. "My mom must've sensed something was wrong."

"Most likely," Chiron said. "But, Percy, they will be fine. The best thing we can do for them is stay focused on our job."

Then Percy noticed something in the backseat of the Prius. Seat-belted behind his mother was a black-and-white Greek jar about three feet tall. Its lid was wrapped in a leather harness.

"No way," Percy muttered.

Annabeth pressed her hand to the window. "That's impossible! I thought you left it at the Plaza."

"Locked in a vault," Percy agreed.

Chiron saw the jar and his eyes widened. "That isn't—"

"Pandora's jar." Percy told Chiron about his meeting with Prometheus.

"Then the jar is yours," Chiron said grimly. "It will follow you and tempt you to open it, no matter where you leave it. It will appear when you are weakest."

Percy drew Riptide and cut through the driver's side window like it was made of plastic wrap.

"We'll put the car in neutral," Percy said. "Push them out of the way. And take that stupid jar to Olympus."

Chiron nodded. "A good plan. But, Percy..."

Whatever he was going to say, he faltered. A mechanical drumbeat grew loud in the distance—the chop-chop-chop of a helicopter.

On a normal Monday morning in New York, this would've been no big deal, but after two days of silence, a mortal helicopter was the oddest thing Naomi had ever heard. A few blocks east, the monster army shouted and jeered as the helicopter came into view. It was a civilian model painted dark red, with a bright green "DE" logo on the side.

Naomi's eyes widened.

"What is she doing here?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get through the barrier?"

"Who?" Chiron looked confused. "What mortal would be insane enough—"

Suddenly the helicopter pitched forward.

"The Morpheus enchantment!" Chiron said. "The foolish mortal pilot is asleep!"

Instincts (and maybe a bit of sleep-deprivation-induced overconfidence) made Naomi throw her arms out. A pitch-black shadow engulfed the descending helicopter. She held her other hand out, and a shadow materialized in the middle of Fifth Avenue. The helicopter appeared, the blades still spinning, but already slowing down.

The second the helicopter touched down, Naomi faltered, a wave of pure exhaustion hitting her like a tsunami. Percy caught her before she could hit the ground and helped her right herself.

"Whoa," Naomi said, taking a deeply needed breath. She blinked rapidly against the black dots dancing across her vision. "Remind me never to do that again, because ow."

Chiron stared at Naomi with wide eyes. "How...?"

Naomi shrugged as best as she could, too tired and clueless to even begin to explain. "It's been a long day."

Percy and Annabeth ran to the helicopter as Rachel Dare opened the side door and dragged out the unconscious pilot. She was dressed like she was on vacation, in beach shorts, a t-shirt, and sandals. Her hair was tangled and her face was green.

"What," she gasped out, "was that?"

"Shadow-travel," Naomi explained, reaching them a few seconds later. "It's a little disorienting."

"A little?" Rachel stared at Naomi with wide eyes. "You just saved my life."

Naomi managed a tired smile. "Don't mention it."

"What are you doing here, Dare?" Annabeth demanded. "Don't you know better than to fly into a warzone?"

"I—" Rachel glanced at Percy. "I had to be here. I knew Percy was in trouble."

"Got that right," Annabeth grumbled. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have some injured friends I've got to tend to. Glad you could stop by, Rachel."

"Annabeth—" Percy called.

"Come on, Nay." Annabeth wrapped an arm around Naomi's waist and stormed off, pulling a very exhausted Naomi with her.

Chapter 107: xvi. a trick ends in death

Chapter Text

AFTER A WELL-NEEDED NAP and as much nectar and ambrosia as she dared to ingest, Naomi stood with the rest of the gods' army as they prepared to face yet another horrible monster.

The Hephaestus cabin was out of Greek fire. The Apollo cabin and the Hunters were scrounging for arrows. There were sixteen campers, fifteen Hunters, and half a dozen satyrs still in fighting shape. Everyone else had taken refuge on Olympus. The Party Ponies tried to form ranks, but they staggered and giggled and all smelled like root beer. The Texans were head-butting with the Coloradoans. The Missouri branch was arguing with Illinois. The chances were pretty good the whole army would end up fighting each other rather than the enemy.

Chiron trotted up with Rachel on his back.

"Your friend here has some useful insights, Percy," he said.

Rachel blushed. "Just some things I saw in my head."

"A drakon," Chiron said. "A Lydian drakon, to be exact. The oldest and most dangerous kind."

Percy stared at her. "How did you know that?"

"I'm not sure," Rachel admitted. "But this drakon has a particular fate. It will be killed by a child of Ares."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I just saw it. I can't explain."

"Well, let's hope you're wrong," Percy said. "Because we're a little short on children of Ares..." He cursed in Ancient Greek.

"What?" Naomi asked.

"The spy," Percy said. "Kronos said, 'We know they cannot beat this drakon.' The spy has been keeping him updated. Kronos knows the Ares cabin isn't with us. He intentionally picked a monster we can't kill."

Thalia scowled. "If I ever catch your spy, he's going to be very sorry. Maybe we could send another messenger to camp—"

"I've already done it," Chiron said. "Blackjack is on his way. But if Silena wasn't able to convince Clarisse, I doubt Blackjack will be able—"

A roar shook the ground. It sounded very close.

"Rachel," Percy said, "get inside the building."

"I want to stay."

A shadow blotted out the sun. Across the street, the drakon slithered down the side of the skyscraper. It roared and a thousand windows shattered.

"On second thought," Rachel said in a small voice, "I'll be inside."

Camp Half-Blood had drakon-fighting classes, but Naomi probably could have taken a thousand and still not been prepared for the sight before her. The two-hundred-foot-long serpent was as thick as a school bus, slithering down the side of a building with yellow eyes like searchlights and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth big enough to chew elephants.

Naomi would rather take on a dozen Hyperions than spend another second looking at the monstrous creature that none of them would be able to defeat.

Meanwhile, the enemy army advanced down Fifth Avenue. The campers had done their best to push cars out of the way to keep the mortals safe, but that just made it easier for the enemy to approach. The Party Ponies swished their tails nervously. Chiron galloped up and down their ranks, shouting encouragement to stand tough and think about victory and root beer, but Naomi figured they'd panic and run any second now.

"I'll take the drakon." Percy's voice came out as a timid squeak. Then he yelled louder: "I'LL TAKE THE DRAKON! Everyone else, hold the line against the army!"

Annabeth and Naomi stood on either side of him. Naomi pulled her helmet down over her face, then tightened her hands around the hilts of her swords.

"Will you guys help me?" Percy asked.

"That's what we do," Annabeth said miserably. "Help our friends."

"Unfortunately," Naomi managed.

"Annabeth, go invisible," Percy said. "Look for weak links in its armor. Naomi, try to use the shadows to blind it, trip it up, whatever you can do. I'll try to keep it busy. Just... be careful."

He whistled. "Mrs. O'Leary, heel!"

"ROOOF!" The hellhound leaped over a line of centaurs and gave him a kiss.

Percy drew his sword, and the trio charged the monster.

The drakon was three stories above them, slithering sideways along the building as it sized up the demigods' forces. Wherever it looked, centaurs froze in fear.

From the north, the enemy army crashed into the Party Ponies and the lines broke. The drakon lashed out, swallowing three Californian centaurs in one gulp before Naomi could even get close.

Mrs. O'Leary launched herself into the air - a deadly black shadow with teeth and claws. Normally, a pouncing hellhound was a terrifying sight, but next to the drakon, Mrs. O'Leary looked like a child's night-night doll.

Her claws raked harmlessly off the drakon's scales. She bit the monster's throat, but couldn't make a dent. Her weight, however, was enough to knock the drakon off the side of the building. It flailed awkwardly and crashed to the sidewalk - hellhound and serpent twisting and thrashing. As the drakon tried to bite Mrs. O'Leary, Naomi threw a ribbon of shadow between the creature's teeth and Mrs. O'Leary's neck, diverting the drakon's bite to a cluster of carefully-planted trees across the street.

Percy charged the monster, plunging Riptide deep into the monster's left eye. The spotlight went dark. The drakon hissed and reared to strike, but Percy rolled aside.

It bit a swimming-pool-sized chunk out of the pavement. It turned toward Percy with its good eye, but Naomi covered it with a thick shadow, keeping it from seeing or paralyzing.

The rest of the battle wasn't going well. Centaurs panicked under the onslaught of giants and demons. An occasional orange camp t-shirt appeared in the sea of fighting, but it quickly disappeared. Arrows screamed. Fire exploded in waves across both armies, but the action was moving across the street to the entrance of the Empire State Building. They were losing ground.

Suddenly Annabeth materialized on the drakon's back. Her invisibility cap rolled off her head as she drove her bronze knife between a chink in the serpent's scales. The drakon roared. It coiled around, knocking Annabeth off its back.

Percy reached her just as she hit the ground, dragging her out of the way as the serpent rolled, crushing a lamppost right where she'd been.

The monster went to snap at Percy's head and Naomi threw up a shadow-shield above him and Annabeth, throwing one of her swords at the monster's throat. The blade landed true, but it only seemed to piss off the drakon.

Naomi ran to her friends' sides as Mrs. O'Leary body-slammed the drakon's face to get his attention so Percy and Annabeth could get out of the way.

Meanwhile, their allies had retreated to the doors of the Empire State Building. The entire enemy army was surrounding them.

They were out of options. No more help was coming. They'd have to retreat before they were cut off from Mount Olympus.

Then Naomi heard a rumbling in the south. It wasn't something you heard much in New York, but Naomi recognized it immediately: chariot wheels.

A girl's voice yelled, "ARES!"

And a dozen war chariots charged into battle. Each flew a red banner with the symbol of the wild boar's head. Each was pulled by a team of skeletal horses with manes of fire. A total of thirty fresh warriors, armor gleaming and eyes full of hate, lowered their lances as one - making a bristling wall of death.

"The children of Ares!" Annabeth said in amazement. "How did Rachel know?"

Leading the charge was a girl in familiar red armor, her face covered by a boar's head helm. She held aloft a spear that crackled with electricity. Clarisse herself had come to the rescue. While half her chariots charged the monster army, Clarisse led the other six straight for the drakon.

The serpent reared back and managed to throw off Mrs. O'Leary. The poor hellhound hit the side of the building with a yelp. Naomi lost her grip on the shadows blinding the drakon in her surprise, and the serpent zeroed in on the new threat.

Even with only one eye, its glare was enough to paralyze two chariot drivers. They veered into a line of cars. The other four chariots kept charging. The monster bared its fangs to strike and got a mouthful of celestial bronze javelins.

"EEESSSSS!" it screamed, which was probably drakon-speak for OWWWW!

"Ares, to me!" Clarisse screamed. Her voice sounded shriller than usual, but Naomi figured that was fair given what she was facing.

Across the street, the arrival of six chariots gave the Party Ponies new hope. They rallied at the doors of the Empire State Building, and the enemy army was momentarily thrown into confusion.

Meanwhile, Clarisse's chariots circled the drakon. Lances broke against the monster's skin. Skeletal horses breathed fire and whinnied. Two more chariots overturned, but the warriors simply leaped to their feet, drew their swords, and went to work. They hacked at chinks in the creature's scales. They dodged poison spray like they'd been trained for this all their lives, which of course they had.

No one could say the Ares campers weren't brave. Clarisse was right there in front, stabbing her spear at the drakon's face, trying to put out its other eye. But, as Naomi watched, things started to go wrong. The drakon snapped up one Ares camper in a gump. It knocked aside another and sprayed poison on a third, who retreated in a panic, his armor melting.

"We have to help," Annabeth said.

She was right. Naomi had just been sitting there in shock. Mrs. O'Leary tried to get up but yelped again. One of her paws was bleeding.

"Stay back, girl," Percy told her. "You've done enough already."

Percy and Annabeth jumped onto the monster's back and ran toward its head, trying to draw its attention away from Clarisse. Naomi doubled her efforts with her shadows, blinding the drakon and pulling its focus in a dozen different ways. After the effort she'd been exerting since the start of the battle, it was exhausting, and when Clarisse pulled her into her chariot without taking her eyes off the drakon, Naomi was too tired to do anything except keep her head up, trying to keep the shadows up.

"You can do it, Clarisse," she said breathlessly. "A child of Ares is destined to kill it."

Through her war helmet, Naomi could only see her eyes—but she could tell something was wrong. Her blue eyes shone with fear. Clarisse never looked like that.

And she didn't have blue eyes.

Naomi's breath caught in her throat as that awfully familiar feeling hit her.

"ARES!" the warrior shouted, in that strangely shrill voice. She leveled her spear, jumped out of the chariot, and charged the drakon.

"WAIT!" Naomi heard Percy shout.

Naomi struggled to her feet to see out of the chariot. The drakon stared down at the warrior before it—almost in contempt—and spat poison directly in her face.

"NO!" Naomi screamed.

The blue-eyed warrior fell.

"Clarisse!" Annabeth jumped off the monster's back and ran to help as the other Ares campers tried to defend the fallen warrior.

Naomi lost control of her shadows yet again, exhaustion and shock rendering her powerless as she threw herself out of the charioteer-less chariot. She ran to the warrior's side.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she felt the too-familiar feeling of death intensify in her stomach.

No, she thought. No, no, no, no.

At the edge of her vision, she saw a flying chariot land on Fifth Avenue.

Then someone ran toward them. A girl's voice, shaken with grief, cried, "NO! Curse you, WHY?"

Naomi's hands shook as she held the girl in her arms. Annabeth and the other Ares campers tried to unfasten her helmet. Her armor smoked with the drakon's poison. Naomi barely registered the girl kneeling next to them, her face blotchy with tears.

Clarisse.

"WHY?" she demanded.

Chris Rodriguez ran over from the flying chariot. He and Clarisse must've ridden it there from camp, chasing the Ares campers, who'd mistakenly been following the other girl, thinking she was Clarisse.

Wanting to believe it was her.

"Look out!" Chris warned.

In her peripheral, Naomi saw the drakon whirl toward the sound of Chris's voice. It bared its fangs at the group of demigods.

The real Clarisse looked up at the drakon. Her face filled with absolute hate. Naomi had seen a look that intense only once before. Her father Ares had worn the same expression when Percy had fought him in single combat.

"YOU WANT DEATH?" Clarisse screamed at the drakon. "WELL, COME ON!"

She grabbed her spear from the fallen girl. With no armor or shield, she charged the drakon.

Naomi barely registered the fight itself. It might have lasted a second or an hour, she couldn't tell. That feeling in her stomach was all-consuming. It left her nauseous and completely drained.

Finally, Annabeth managed to remove the girl's helmet, but Naomi already knew whose face would be behind it. She couldn't stop the tears from falling.

"Silena," she croaked.

Silena's eyes were unfocused, but she found Naomi's hand with her own and held on as tight as she could, which wasn't tight at all. "Nay."

"I'm here," Naomi all but whimpered. "I'm right here."

Clarisse knelt on Silena's other side, her eyes glistening with tears. "What were you thinking?"

Silena tried to swallow, but her lips were dry and cracked. "Wouldn't... listen. Cabin would... only follow you."

"So you stole my armor," Clarisse said in disbelief. "You waited until Chris and I went out on patrol, you stole my armor and pretended to be me." She glared at her siblings. "And NONE of you noticed?"

"Don't blame them," Silena said. "They wanted to... to believe I was you."

"You stupid Aphrodite girl," Clarisse sobbed. "You charged a drakon? Why?"

"All my fault," Silena said, a tear streaking the side of her face. "The drakon, Charlie's death... camp endangered—"

"Stop it!" Clarisse said. "That's not true."

Silena opened her hand. In her palm was a silver bracelet with a scythe charm—the mark of Kronos.

"You were the spy," Percy realized.

Silena tried to nod. "Before—before I liked Charlie, Luke was nice to me. He was so—charming. Handsome. Later, I wanted to stop helping him, but he threatened to tell. He promised... he promised I was saving lives. Fewer people would get hurt. He told me he wouldn't hurt—Charlie. He lied to me."

Behind them, the battle raged. They hardly noticed.

Clarisse scowled at her cabin mates. "Go, help the centaurs. Protect the doors. GO!"

They scrambled off to join the fight.

Silena took a heavy, painful breath. "Forgive me."

"You're not dying," Clarisse insisted. "Tell her she's not dying, Naomi."

Even if Naomi could have gotten the words out of her clogged throat, what would she say? She could feel Death himself looming over Silena, ready to take her away.

Tears fell as she leaned down, pressing a kiss to the forehead of the girl who was her sister in every way but blood. "It's okay," she whispered. "You died a hero. You'll go to Elysium. You'll be happy there. You'll see—" Her voice broke, but she pushed through. "You'll see Charlie again."

"Charlie..." Silena's eyes were a million miles away. "See Charlie..."

She didn't speak again.

Clarisse wept. Chris put a hand on her shoulder. Naomi couldn't do anything but stare down into Silena's lifeless eyes, wondering when the world had suddenly shifted from just bad to downright cruel.

Finally, Annabeth closed Silena's eyes.

"We have to fight." Annabeth's voice was brittle. "She gave her life to help us. We have to honor her."

Clarisse sniffled and wiped her nose. "She was a hero, understand. A hero."

Percy nodded. "Come on, Clarisse."

The daughter of Ares picked up a sword from one of her fallen siblings. "Kronos is going to pay."

Chapter 108: xvii. the hearth still fights

Chapter Text

NAOMI FOUGHT NUMBLY. It didn't matter—Clarisse was a demon on the battlefield, cutting through the Titans' army and crushing everything in her path. Her rage flooded the fight, destroying the enemy. An aura of red fire flickered around her—the blessing of her father, Ares.

Naomi was numb as they withdrew, too. The campers and Hunters and satyrs tended to the wounded, bringing them inside the lobby. Long after the enemy had retreated from sight, Clarisse kept riding up and down the avenue with the drakon's carcass still tied to her chariot, demanding that Kronos meet her in battle.

"I'll watch her," Chris said. "She'll get tired eventually. I'll make sure she comes inside."

"What about camp?" Percy asked. "Is anybody left there?"

Chris shook his head. "Just the little ones, Argus, and the nature spirits. Peleus the dragon is still guarding the tree."

"That won't last long," Percy said. "But I'm glad you came."

Chris nodded sadly. "I'm sorry it took so long. I tried to reason with Clarisse. I said there's no point in defending camp if you guys die. All our friends are here. I'm sorry it took Silena..."

"My Hunters will help you stand guard," Thalia said. "Annabeth, Naomi, Percy—you should go to Olympus. I have a feeling they'll need you up there—to set up the final defense."

The doorman had disappeared from the lobby. His book was facedown on the desk and his chair was empty. The rest of the lobby, however, was jam-packed with wounded campers, Hunters, and satyrs.

Connor and Travis Stoll met the trio by the elevators.

"Is it true?" Connor asked. "About Silena?"

Percy nodded. "She died a hero."

Travis shifted uncomfortably. "Um, I also heard—"

"That's it," Naomi said. "End of story."

"Right," Travis mumbled. "Listen, we figure the Titan's army will have trouble getting up the elevator. They'll have to go up a few at a time. And the giants won't be able to fit at all."

"That's our biggest advantage," Percy said. "Any way to disable the elevator?"

"It's magic," Travis said. "Usually you need a key card, but the doorman vanished. That means the defenses are crumbling. Anyone can walk into the elevator now and head straight up."

"Then we have to keep them away from the doors," Percy said. "We'll bottle them up in the lobby."

"We need reinforcements," Travis said. "They'll just keep coming. Eventually they'll overwhelm us."

"There are no reinforcements," Connor complained.

Naomi's throat tightened. She looked outside at Mrs. O'Leary and Skia, breathing against the glass doors and smearing them with hellhound drool.

Silena was dead. She wasn't the first, and she wouldn't be the last.

But we're still fighting.

Naomi curled her hands into fists. She'd been ready to give up on getting her mother and her stepfather to join the fight, but after Silena...

One more chance. That was all she could give them.

She went outside and put her hands on the hellhounds' muzzles. Chiron had bandaged Mrs. O'Leary's injured paw, but she was still limping. Her fur was matted with mud, leaves, pizza slices, and dried monster blood. Skia only looked slightly better off.

"Okay, girls," Naomi said softly. "I know you're tired, but I have one more favor to ask. Skia, you'll make sure Mrs. O'Leary's okay?"

Skia barked a clear affirmative.

Naomi nodded, and leaned down to whisper her instructions.

After the hellhounds shadow-traveled away, Naomi rejoined Percy and Annabeth in the lobby. On the way to the elevator, they spotted Grover kneeling over a wounded satyr.

"Leneus!" Percy said.

The old satyr looked terrible. His lips were blue. There was a broken spear in his belly, and his furry goat legs were twisted at a painful angle.

He tried to focus on them, but Naomi didn't think he saw them.

"Grover?" he murmured.

"I'm here, Leneus." Grover was blinking back tears, despite all the horrible things Leneus had said about him.

"Did... did we win?"

"Um... yes," Grover lied. "Thanks to you, Leneus. We drove the enemy away."

"Told you," the old satyr mumbled. "True leader. True..."

He closed his eyes for the last time.

Grover gulped. He put his hand on Leneus's forehead and spoke an ancient blessing. The old satyr's body melted, until all that was left was a tiny sapling m a pile of fresh soil.

"A laurel," Grover said in awe. "Oh, that lucky old goat."

He gathered up the sapling in his hands. "I... I should plant him. In Olympus, in the gardens."

"We're going that way," Percy said. "Come on."

Easy-listening music played as the elevator rose. Naomi thought about the first time she'd visited Mount Olympus, back when she was thirteen. It had just been her and Percy then, but now, Annabeth and Grover were with them, too. She was glad. She had a feeling it might be their last adventure together.

"Percy," Annabeth said quietly. "You were right about Luke." It was the first time she'd spoken since Silena's death. She kept her eyes fixed on the elevator floors as they blinked into the magical numbers: 400, 450, 500.

"Annabeth," Percy said. "I'm sorry—"

"You tried to tell me." Her voice was shaky. "Luke is no good. I didn't believe you until... until I heard how he'd used Silena. Now I know. I hope you're happy."

"That doesn't make me happy."

She put her head against the elevator wall and wouldn't look at any of them.

Grover cradled his laurel sapling in his hands. "Well... sure is good to be together again. Arguing. Almost dying. Abject terror. Oh, look. It's our floor."

The doors dinged and they stepped onto the aerial walkway.

Depressing was the only way to describe the city. No fires lit the braziers. The windows were dark. The streets were deserted, the doors barred. The only movement was in the parks, which had been set up as field hospitals. Will Solace and the other Apollo campers scrambled around, caring for the wounded. Naiads and dryads tried to help, using nature magic songs to heal burns and poison. Naomi spotted Lilium running around, helping where she could.

The nymph caught her eye, and sent Naomi a weary smile.

Naomi helped Grover plant the laurel sapling as Annabeth and Percy checked on the wounded. Then, they continued toward the palace.

The bronze doors creaked open. Their footsteps echoed on the marble floor. The constellations twinkled coldly on the ceiling of the great hall. The hearth was down to a dull red glow. Hestia, in the form of a little girl in brown robes, hunched at its edge, shivering. The Ophiotaurus swam sadly in his sphere of water. He let out a half-hearted Moo when he saw Percy.

In the firelight, the thrones cast evil-looking shadows, like grasping hands.

Standing at the foot of Zeus's throne, looking up at the stars, was Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She was holding a Greek ceramic vase.

"Rachel?" Percy said. "Um, what are you doing with that?"

She focused on him as if she were coming out of a dream. "I found it. It's Pandora's jar, isn't it?"

Her eyes were brighter than usual, and Naomi had a bad flashback of moldy sandwiches and burned cookies.

"Please put down the jar," Percy said.

"I can see Hope inside it." Rachel ran her fingers over the ceramic designs. "So fragile."

"Rachel."

His voice seemed to bring her back to reality. She held out the jar, and he took it.

"Grover," Annabeth mumbled. "Let's scout around the palace. Maybe we can find some extra Greek fire or Hephaestus traps."

"But—"

Annabeth elbowed him.

"Right!" he yelped. "I love traps!"

Annabeth looked at Naomi. "You coming?"

Naomi looked at the dying hearth, and the goddess watching over it. She shook her head.

Annabeth hesitated, but she nodded, then dragged Grover out of the throne room.

Naomi walked over to the fire. Hestia was huddled in her robes, rocking back and forth. She looked up as Naomi sat down.

"You made your choice," the goddess whispered.

"I did," Naomi said.

"As I believed you would," Hestia murmured.

"The hearth—"

"Still fights," the goddess told her. "It will not die so easily."

Naomi reached a hand over the coals, and the smallest flicker of a flame rose, almost touching her palm. It was warm, and in its flickering, she could almost hear it saying, Thank you.

Percy brought Rachel over to the hearth.

"Lady Hestia," he said.

"Hello, Percy Jackson," the goddess murmured. "Getting colder."

"I know," Percy said. "The Titans are near."

Hestia focused on Rachel. "Hello, my dear. You've come to our hearth at last."

Rachel blinked. "You've been expecting me?"

Hestia held out her hands, and the coals glowed. Naomi saw images in the fire: her and her mother in her garden; game night in the Demeter cabin; Christmas with Percy and his family; lounging on Annabeth's bunk while she worked; the campfire at Camp Half-Blood, the sound of singing and smell of roasting marshmallows filling the air. Home.

"To claim your place at the hearth," Hestia told Rachel, "you must let go of your distractions. It is the only way you will survive."

Rachel nodded. "I—I understand."

"Wait," Percy said. "What is she talking about?"

Rachel took a shaky breath. "Percy, when I came here... I thought I was coming for you. But I wasn't. You and me..." She shook her head.

Naomi was starting to regret not going with Grover and Annabeth.

"Wait. Now I'm a distraction?" Percy asked. "Is this because I'm 'not the hero' or whatever?"

"I'm not sure I can put it into words," she said. "I was drawn to you because... because you opened the door to all of this." She gestured at the throne room. "I needed to understand my true sight. But you and me, that wasn't part of it. Our fates aren't intertwined. I think you've always known that, deep down."

Percy stared at her. "So... what?" he said. "'Thanks for bringing me to Olympus. See ya.' Is that what you're saying?"

Rachel stared at the fire.

"Percy Jackson," Hestia said. "Rachel has told you all she can. Her moment is coming, but your decision approaches even more rapidly. Are you prepared?"

Percy looked at Pandora's jar. He stared at it for so long, Naomi feared he'd give in and open it. She wouldn't have been able to blame him, not after all of the horror they'd witnessed.

He looked at Hestia, then his eyes flitted to Naomi.

Footsteps approached. Annabeth and Grover came back into the throne room and stopped when they saw them.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked. "Should we, um, leave again?"

Percy blinked, and it looked like he was seeing clearly for the first time.

He looked at Rachel. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you? I mean... you talked to Chiron, right?"

She managed a faint smile. "You're worried about me doing something stupid?"

"But I mean... will you be okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "That kind of depends on whether you save the world, hero."

Percy picked up Pandora's jar. "Hestia, I give you this as an offering."

The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?"

"You're the last Olympian," he said. "And the most important."

"And why is that, Percy Jackson?"

"Because Hope survives best at the hearth," he said. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again."

The goddess smiled. She took the jar in her hands and it began to glow. The hearth fire burned a little brighter.

"Well done, Percy Jackson," she said. "May the gods bless you."

"We're about to find out." He looked at Annabeth and Grover, then Naomi. "Come on, guys."

He marched toward his father's throne.

The seat of Poseidon stood just to the right of Zeus's, but it wasn't nearly as grand. The molded black leather seat was attached to a swivel pedestal, with a couple of iron rings on the side for fastening a fishing pole (or a trident).

Gods in their natural state are about twenty feet tall, so Percy could just reach the edge of the seat if he stretched his arms.

"Help me up," Percy said.

"Are you crazy?" Annabeth asked.

"Probably," he admitted.

"Percy," Grover said, "the gods really don't appreciate people sitting in their thrones. I mean, like, turn you into a pile of ashes don't appreciate it."

"I need to get his attention," Percy said. "It's the only way."

Annabeth, Grover, and Naomi exchanged uneasy looks.

"Well," Naomi said, "this'll definitely get his attention."

Annabeth and Grover linked their hands to make a step, then boosted Percy onto the throne.

Almost immediately, the throne rumbled.

Percy flinched like a bullet had just grazed the side of his face.

Watching him have a one-sided (for onlookers) conversation with Poseidon was one of the strangest things Naomi had ever seen—that, combined with how pale Percy became, and the literal smoke coming off of him...

Naomi was relieved when Percy finally slipped down from the throne.

Grover studied Percy nervously. "Are you okay? You turned pale and... you started smoking."

"I did not!" Then Percy looked at his arms. Steam curled off his shirt sleeves, the hair on his arms singed.

"If you'd sat there any longer," Annabeth said, "you would've spontaneously combusted. I hope the conversation was worth it?"

Moo, said the Ophiotaurus in his sphere of water.

"We'll find out soon," Percy said.

Just then the doors of the throne room swung open. Thalia marched in. Her bow was snapped in half and her quiver was empty.

"You've got to get down there," she told them. "The enemy is advancing. And Kronos is leading them."

By the time they got to the street, it was too late.

Campers and Hunters lay wounded on the ground. Clarisse must've lost a fight with a Hyperborean giant, because she and her chariot were frozen in a block of ice. The centaurs were nowhere to be seen. Either they'd panicked and ran or they'd been disintegrated.

The Titan army ringed the building, standing maybe twenty feet from the doors. Kronos's vanguard was in the lead: Ethan, a dracaena in green armor, and two Hyperboreans. Kronos himself stood right in front with his scythe in hand.

The only thing standing in his way was...

"Chiron," Annabeth said, her voice trembling.

If Chiron heard her, he didn't answer. He had an arrow notched, aimed straight at Kronos's face.

As soon as Kronos saw Percy, his gold eyes flared. Then the Titan lord turned his attention back to Chiron. "Step aside, little son."

Hearing Luke call Chiron his son was strange enough, but Kronos put contempt in his voice, like son was the worst insult he could come up with.

"I'm afraid not." Chiron's tone was steely calm, the way he got when he was really angry.

Naomi tried to move, but her feet felt like concrete. Her friends were straining, too, like they were just as stuck.

"Chiron!" Annabeth said. "Look out!"

The dracaena became impatient and charged. Chiron's arrow flew straight between her eyes and she vaporized on the spot, her empty armor clattering to the asphalt.

Chiron reached for another arrow, but his quiver was empty. He dropped the bow and drew his sword. He hated fighting with a sword—it was never his favorite weapon.

Kronos chuckled. He advanced a step, and Chiron's horse-half skittered nervously. His tail flicked back and forth.

"You're a teacher," Kronos sneered. "Not a hero."

"Luke was a hero," Chiron said. "He was a good one, until you corrupted him."

"FOOL!" Kronos's voice shook the city. "You filled his head with empty promises. You said the gods cared about me!"

"Me," Chiron noticed. "You said me."

Kronos looked confused, and in that moment, Chiron struck. It was a good maneuver—a feint followed by a strike to the face. But Kronos was quick. He had all of Luke's fighting skill, which was a lot. He knocked aside Chiron's blade and yelled, "BACK!"

A blinding white light exploded between the Titan and the centaur. Chiron flew into the side of the building with such force the wall crumbled and collapsed on top of him.

"No!" Annabeth wailed. The freezing spell broke. They ran toward their teacher, but there was no sign of him. Thalia and Percy pulled helplessly at the bricks while a ripple of ugly laughter ran through the Titan's army.

"YOU!" Annabeth turned on Luke. "To think that I... that I thought—"

She drew her knife.

"Annabeth, don't!" Naomi tried to take her arm, but she shook her off.

She attacked Kronos, and his smug smile faded. Perhaps some part of Luke remembered that he used to like this girl, used to take care of her when she was little. She plunged her knife between the straps of his armor, right at his collar bone. The blade should've sunk into his chest. Instead it bounced off. Annabeth doubled over, clutching her arm to her stomach. The jolt might've been enough to dislocate her bad shoulder.

Percy yanked her back as Kronos swung his scythe, slicing the air where she'd been standing.

She fought Percy and screamed, "I HATE you!" Tears streaked the dust on her face.

"I have to fight him," Percy told her.

"It's my fight, too, Percy!"

Kronos laughed. "So much spirit. I can see why Luke wanted to spare you. Unfortunately, that won't be possible."

He raised his scythe. Naomi got ready to defend, but before Kronos could strike, a dog's howl pierced the air somewhere behind the Titans' army. Another sounded right after.

"Mrs. O'Leary?" Percy called. "Skia?"

The enemy forces stirred uneasily. Then the strangest thing happened. They began to part, clearing a path through the street like something behind them was forcing them to.

Soon there was a free aisle down the center of Fifth Avenue. Standing at the end of the block were two hellhounds, flanking a small figure in black armor.

"Nico?" Naomi called.

"ROWWF!" Mrs. O'Leary bounded toward them, ignoring the growling monsters on either side as she ran for Percy. Skia was half a second behind, her tail making a sandstorm of monster dust in her wake.

Nico strode forward. The enemy army fell back before him like radiated death, which of course he did.

Through the face guard of his skull-shaped helmet, he smiled. "Got your message. Is it too late to join the party?"

"Son of Hades." Kronos spit on the ground. "Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?"

"Your death," Nico said, "would be great for me."

"I'm immortal, you fool! I have escaped Tartarus. You have no business here, and no chance to live."

Nico drew his sword—three feet of wicked sharp Stygian iron, black as a nightmare. "I don't agree."

The ground rumbled. Cracks appeared in the road, the sidewalks, the sides of the buildings. Skeletal hands grasped the air as the dead clawed their way into the world of the living. There were thousands of them, and as they emerged, the Titan's monsters got jumpy and started to back up.

"HOLD YOUR GROUND!" Kronos demanded. "The dead are no match for us."

The sky turned dark and cold. Shadows thickened. A harsh war horn sounded, and as the dead soldiers formed up ranks with their guns and swords and spears, an enormous chariot roared down Fifth Avenue. It came to a stop next to Nico. The horses were living shadows, fashioned from darkness. The chariot was inlaid with obsidian and gold, decorated with scenes of painful death. Holding the reins was Hades himself, Lord of the Dead, with Demeter and Persephone riding behind him.

Naomi almost cried at the sight.

"Mom," she whispered.

The goddess heard her, and her eyes shone with pride.

Hades wore black armor and a cloak the color of fresh blood. On top of his pale head was the Helm of Darkness: a crown that radiated pure terror. It changed shape as Naomi watched—from a dragon's head to a circle of black flames to a wreath of human bones. But that wasn't the scary part. The helm reached into her mind and ignited her worst nightmares, her most secret fears. Naomi knew the enemy army felt it, too. Only Kronos's power and authority kept his ranks from fleeing.

Hades smiled coldly. "Hello, Father. You're looking... young."

"Hades," Kronos growled. "I hope you and the ladies have come to pledge your allegiance."

"I'm afraid not." Hades sighed. "My son here convinced me that perhaps I should prioritize my list of enemies, and my stepdaughter... well, she was right about one thing. It would not do for Olympus to fall. I would miss bickering with my siblings. And if there is one thing we agree on—it is that you were a TERRIBLE father."

"True," muttered Demeter. "No appreciation of agriculture."

"Mother!" Persephone complained.

Hades drew his sword, a double-edged Stygian blade etched with silver. "Now fight me! For today the House of Hades will be called the saviors of Olympus."

"I don't have time for this," Kronos snarled.

He struck the ground with his scythe. A crack spread in both directions, circling the Empire State Building. A wall of force shimmered along the fissure line, separating Kronos's vanguard, Naomi's friends, and Naomi herself from the bulk of the two armies.

"What's he doing?" Percy muttered.

"Sealing us in," Thalia said. "He's collapsing the magic barriers around Manhattan—cutting off just the building, and us."

Sure enough, outside the barrier, car engines revved to life. Pedestrians woke up and stared uncomprehendingly at the monsters and zombies all around them. No telling what they saw through the Mist, but it must have been scary. Car doors opened. At the end of the block, Paul Blofis and Sally Jackson got out of their Prius.

"No," Percy said. "Don't..."

Sally could see through the Mist. She must have understood how serious things were, but she didn't run away. She locked eyes with Percy, said something to Paul, and the two ran straight toward the fight.

Fortunately, Hades caused a distraction. He charged at the wall of force, but his chariot crashed against it and overturned. He got to his feet, cursing, and blasted the wall with black energy. The barrier held.

"ATTACK!" he roared.

The armies of the dead clashed with the Titan's monsters. Fifth Avenue exploded into absolute chaos. Mortals screamed and ran for cover. Demeter waved her hand and an entire column of giants turned into a wheat field. Persephone changed the dracaenae's spears into sunflowers. Nico slashed and hacked his way through the enemy, trying to protect the pedestrians as best he could. Percy's parents ran toward them, dodging monsters and zombies.

"Nakamura," Kronos said. "Attend me. Giants—deal with them."

He pointed at Naomi and her friends. Then he ducked into the lobby.

Naomi and her friends were forced back into battle. The first Hyperborean giant smashed at Percy with his club. The second breathed frost at Annabeth, who was barely able to stand, but Grover pulled her out of the way while Thalia went to work. She sprinted up the giant's back like a gazelle, sliced her hunting knives across his monstrous blue neck, and created the world's largest headless ice sculpture.

A third giant decided to try his luck with Naomi, but it was a terrible decision. He barely got a chance to try anything before Naomi's shadows surged up, wrapping around him like a mummy and squeezing until he was reduced to monster ash.

"Excellent, dear!" Naomi looked up to see her mother grinning from her flowery chariot.

"You came," Naomi said, because she still couldn't believe it.

"Of course, Kore," Persephone said. "A family must always come to each other's aid. And you and your stepbrother are both very persistent when you want to be. I imagine you got that from us."

Naomi managed a smile. "Maybe a little."

"Go," Persephone said, nodding at something behind Naomi. "Find that dreadful Titan. Save Olympus."

Chapter 109: xviii. not a faithless hope

Chapter Text

THE BRIDGE TO OLYMPUS WAS DISSOLVING. They stepped out of the elevator onto the white marble walkway and immediately cracks appeared at their feet.

"Jump!" Grover said, which was easy for him since he was part mountain goat.

He sprang to the next slab of stone while theirs tilted sickeningly.

"Gods, I hate heights!" Thalia yelled as she, Percy, and Naomi leaped. But Annabeth was in no shape for jumping. She stumbled back.

Percy caught her hand as the pavement fell, crumbling into dust. Naomi thrust her hand down, and Annabeth caught it with her other hand, and Naomi and Percy pulled her back up.

They lay trembling on the pavement in a tangle of limbs like vines on a house. When she realized this, Annabeth tensed.

"Um, thanks," she muttered.

Percy managed a very distinguished, "Uh, duh."

"Keep moving!" Grover tugged Percy's shoulders. The trio untangled themselves and sprinted across the sky bridge as more stones disintegrated and fell into oblivion. They made it to the edge of the mountain just as the final section collapsed.

Annabeth looked back at the elevator, which was now completely out of reach—a polished set of metal doors hanging in space, attached to nothing, six hundred stories above Manhattan.

"We're marooned," she said. "On our own."

"Blah-ha-ha!" Grover said. "The connection between Olympus and America is dissolving. If it fails—"

"The gods won't move on to another country this time," Thalia said. "This will be the end of Olympus. The final end."

They ran through the streets. Mansions were burning. Statues had been hacked down. Trees in the parks were blasted to splinters. It looked like someone had attacked the city with a giant Weedwacker.

"Kronos's scythe," Percy said.

They followed the winding path toward the palace of the gods. Naomi didn't remember the road being so long. Maybe Kronos was making time go slower, or maybe it was just dread slowing them down. The whole mountaintop was in ruins—so many beautiful buildings and gardens gone.

A few minor gods and nature spirits had tried to stop Kronos. What remained of them was strewn about the road: shattered armor, ripped clothing, swords and spears broken in half.

Somewhere ahead of them, Kronos's voice roared: "Brick by brick! That was my promise. Tear it down BRICK BY BRICK!"

A white marble temple with a gold dome suddenly exploded. The dome shot up like the lid of a teapot and shattered into a billion pieces, raining rubble over the city.

"That was a shrine to Artemis," Thalia grumbled. "He'll pay for that."

They were running under the marble archway with the huge statues of Zeus and Hera when the entire mountain groaned, rocking sideways like a boat in a storm.

"Look out!" Grover yelped. The archway crumbled. Naomi looked back in time to see a twenty-ton scowling Hera topple over on Percy and Annabeth. They would've been flattened, but Thalia shoved them from behind and they landed just out of danger.

"Thalia!" Grover cried.

When the dust cleared and the mountain stopped rocking, they found her still alive, but her legs were pinned under the statue.

They tried desperately to move it, but it would've taken several Cyclopes. When they tried to pull Thalia out from under it, she yelled in pain.

"I survive all those battles," she growled, "and I get defeated by a stupid chunk of rock!"

"It's Hera," Annabeth said in outrage. "She's had it in for me all year. Her statue would've killed me if you hadn't pushed us away."

Thalia grimaced. "Well, don't just stand there! I'll be fine. Go!"

They didn't want to leave her, but Naomi could hear Kronos laughing as he approached the hall of the gods. More buildings exploded.

"We'll be back," Percy promised.

"I'm not going anywhere," Thalia groaned.

A fireball erupted on the side of the mountain, right near the gates of the palace.

"We've got to run," Percy said.

"I don't suppose you mean away," Grover murmured hopefully.

Percy sprinted toward the palace, Annabeth and Naomi right behind him.

"I was afraid of that," Grover sighed, and clip-clopped after them.

The doors of the palace were big enough to steer a cruise ship through, but they'd been ripped off their hinges and smashed like they weighed nothing. They had to climb over a huge pile of broken stone and twisted metal to get inside.

Kronos stood in the middle of the throne room, his arms wide, staring at the starry ceiling as if taking it all in. His laughter echoed even louder than it had from the pit of Tartarus.

"Finally!" he bellowed. "The Olympian Council—so proud and mighty. Which seat of power shall I destroy first?"

Ethan stood to one side, trying to stay out of the way of his master's scythe. The hearth was almost dead, just a few coals glowing deep in the ashes. Hestia was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Rachel.

The fire will not die so easily, Hestia had promised.

But it seemed like the hearth was giving up. There was no need for snuffing—the flames were dying all on their own.

Naomi, Annabeth, Grover, and Percy stepped forward into the torchlight. Ethan saw them first.

"My lord," he warned.

Kronos turned and smiled through Luke's face. Except for the golden eyes, he looked just the same as he had four years ago when he'd welcomed Naomi and Percy into the Hermes cabin. Annabeth made a painful sound in the back of her throat, like someone had just sucker punched her.

"Ah, my would-be champion," Kronos sneered, his golden eyes fixed on Naomi. He waved a hand at the dying hearth. "I suppose we didn't need you after all. Shall I destroy you first, then?" He looked at Percy. "Or would you like to take that spot of honor, son of Poseidon? Is that the choice you will make—to fight me and die instead of bowing down? Prophecies never end well, you know."

"Luke would fight with a sword," Percy said. "But I suppose you don't have his skill."

Kronos sneered. His scythe began to change, until he held Luke's old weapon, Backbiter, with its half-steel, half-Celestial bronze blade.

Annabeth gasped like she'd suddenly had an idea. "Percy, the blade!" She unsheathed her knife. "The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap."

Before Percy could say anything, Kronos raised his sword.

"Wait!" Annabeth yelled.

Kronos came at Percy like a whirlwind.

Percy dodged and slashed and rolled. Ethan ducked to one side, trying to get behind Percy.

Hell no.

Naomi intercepted him, catching his knife in the air with Hemlock. She didn't hold back this time. She couldn't—not anymore.

"So much for friends," Ethan managed, swiping at her stomach. She parried the blow with ease, stabbing at his stomach with Hemlock. He only barely managed to dodge, and the blade sliced his side.

"You're the one who turned your back on us," Naomi snarled, driving the hilt of Asphodel into the side of his neck (because even now, even after everything he'd done to her, she still wanted to believe there was something in him worth saving—Hestia had been right about her fatal flaw after all).

"For a better world!" Ethan told her. He ducked under a swing, and Naomi blocked a strike.

"It can't be a better world!" Naomi shouted at him. "People are dead, Ethan! Kids are dead!"

"It's the price we have to pay."

Naomi yelled in frustration. Asphodel sliced through the lower part of his armor, leaving his stomach exposed. "Silena's dead!" she screamed at him. "She was your friend, you piece of shit—and she's gone!"

Ethan faltered. He staggered back as Hemlock sliced into his arm. "What?"

Naomi didn't have the energy to feel sorry for him. "Even after everything Luke got her to do for your army, she made the right choice in the end," she seethed. "Will you be able to say the same?"

Ethan didn't answer, but Naomi wasn't expecting him to. She kicked him square in the stomach, and he fell backward, hitting the ground hard.

Naomi looked back as Kronos let out a startled yell, crumpling to his knees. Backbiter fell from his hand.

Annabeth took her chance. "Luke, listen!"

Naomi wanted to shout at her, but there was no time. Kronos flicked his hand. Annabeth flew backward, slamming into Athena's throne and crumpling to the floor.

"Annabeth!" Percy screamed.

Ethan got to his feet, but he was unsteady on his feet.

Grover's music took on a more urgent tone. He moved toward Annabeth, but he couldn't go any faster and keep up the song. Grass grew on the floor of the throne room. Tiny roots crept up between the cracks of the marble stones.

Kronos rose to one knee. His hair smoldered. His face was covered with electrical burns. He reached for his sword, but this time it didn't fly into his hands.

"Nakamura!" he groaned. "Time to prove yourself. You know Jackson's secret weakness. Kill him, and you will have rewards beyond measure."

Ethan's eyes dropped to Percy's midsection. He knew—he knew that was where Percy was vulnerable. Even if he couldn't kill him himself, all Ethan had to do was tell Kronos. Percy couldn't defend himself forever.

But then, Ethan hesitated.

"Ethan," Naomi said, her voice desperate. "You said you wanted to make a difference. Is this what you meant? Do you really want everything to fall—the good with the bad? Everything?"

Maybe Naomi was too much of an idealist. Maybe it would be her downfall. But what was life without hope? Why should she settle for the world as it is, instead of striving to make it what it could be?

There was still good inside of Ethan. There had to be. She believed it with every fiber of her being, and she knew it wasn't a faithless hope—it couldn't be.

Grover was almost to Annabeth now. The grass thickened on the floor. The roots were almost a half a foot long, like a stubble of whiskers.

"There is no throne to Nemesis," Ethan muttered. "No throne to my mother."

"That's right!" Kronos tried to get up but stumbled. Above his left ear, a patch of blond hair still smoldered. "Strike them down! They deserve to suffer."

"Nemesis is the goddess of balance," Naomi reminded him. "The minor gods deserve better, Ethan, but total destruction isn't better. It isn't balance. Kronos doesn't build. He only destroys."

Ethan looked at the sizzling throne of Hephaestus. Grover's music kept playing, and Ethan swayed to it, as if the song were filling him with nostalgia—a wish to see a beautiful day, to be anywhere but here.

His eye met Naomi's.

Like a waking dream, Naomi saw the first time she'd ever seen Ethan laugh—unburdened by the lot he'd gotten in life, forgetting for a moment that he was forced into a crowded cabin because the Olympians didn't think it necessary to honor the gods below them. His eye had crinkled with amusement, looking up at the sky without an ounce of contempt for the beings that lived up there.

Naomi couldn't even remember what they'd been laughing at, but the memory filled her with a warmth she could only pray Ethan still remembered.

Ethan charged—but not at Percy.

While Kronos was still on his knees, Ethan brought down his sword on the Titan lord's neck. It should have killed him instantly, but the blade shattered. Ethan fell back, grasping his stomach. A shard of his own blade had ricocheted and pierced his armor.

"ETHAN!" Naomi screamed. She tried to run toward him, but Percy's arm caught her around the waist, holding her back from the fray.

Kronos rose unsteadily, towering over his servant. "Treason," he snarled.

Grover's music kept playing and grass grew around Ethan's body. Ethan stared at Naomi, his face tight with pain.

"Deserve better," he gasped. "If they just... had thrones—"

Kronos stumbled to his feet, and the floor ruptured around Ethan Nakamura. The son of Nemesis fell through a fissure that went straight through the heart of the mountain—straight into open air.

Naomi screamed as her heart fell with him.

"So much for him." Kronos picked up his sword. "And now for the rest of you."

Chapter 110: xix. olympus perseveres, the hero falls

Notes:

Percy POV

Chapter Text

PERCY'S ONLY THOUGHT WAS to keep Kronos away from Annabeth. Grover and Naomi were at her side. Grover had lost his reed pipes somewhere. Naomi's hands trembled as she fed Annabeth ambrosia.

Everywhere Kronos stepped, the roots wrapped around his feet, but Grover had stopped his music too early. The roots weren't thick or strong enough to do much more than annoy the Titan.

Percy and Kronos fought through the hearth, kicking up coals and sparks. Kronos slashed an armrest off the throne of Ares, then backed Percy up to Poseidon's throne.

"Oh, yes," Kronos said. "This one will make fine kindling for my new hearth!"

Their blades clashed in a shower of sparks. Kronos was stronger than him, but for a moment, Percy felt the power of the ocean in his arms. He pushed Kronos back and struck again, slashing Riptide across his breastplate so hard he cut a gash in the Celestial bronze.

Kronos stamped his foot again and time slowed. Percy tried to attack, but he was moving at the speed of a glacier. Kronos backed up leisurely, catching his breath. He examined the gash in his armor. He could take all the timeouts he pleased. He could freeze Percy in place at will. Percy's only hope was that the effort was draining him. If he could wear the Titan down...

"It's too late, Percy Jackson," Kronos said. "Behold."

He pointed to the hearth and the coals glowed. A sheet of white smoke poured from the fire, forming images like an Iris-message. Percy saw Nico and his parents down on Fifth Avenue, fighting a hopeless battle, ringed by enemies. In the background Hades fought from his black chariot, summoning wave after wave of zombies out of the ground, but the forces of the Titan's army seemed just as endless. Meanwhile, Manhattan was being destroyed. Mortals, now fully awake, were running in terror. Cars swerved and crashed.

The scene shifted, and Percy saw something even more terrifying.

A column of storm was approaching the Hudson River, moving rapidly over the Jersey shore. Chariots circled it, locked in combat with the creature in the cloud.

The gods attacked. Lightning flashed. Arrows of gold and silver streaked into the cloud like rocket tracers and exploded. Slowly, the cloud ripped apart, and Percy saw Typhon clearly for the first time.

Typhon's head shifted constantly. Every moment he was a different monster, each more horrible than the last. Looking at his face would've driven him insane, so he focused on his body, which wasn't much better. He was humanoid, but his skin mottled green, with blisters the size of buildings, and blackened patches from eons of being stuck under a volcano. His hands were human, but with talons like an eagle's. His legs were scaly and reptilian.

"The Olympians are giving their final effort." Kronos laughed. "How pathetic."

Zeus threw a thunderbolt from his chariot. The blast lit up the world. Percy could feel the shock even here on Olympus, but when the dust cleared, Typhon was still standing. He staggered a bit, with a smoking crater on top of his misshapen head, but he roared in anger and kept advancing.

Typhon stepped into the Hudson River and barely sank to mid-calf.

Now, Percy thought, silently imploring the image in the smoke. Please, it has to be now.

Then, like a miracle, a conch horn sounded from the smoky image. The call of the ocean—the call of Poseidon.

All around Typhon, the Hudson River erupted, churning with forty-foot waves. Out of the water burst a new chariot—this one pulled by massive hippocampi, who swam in air as easily as in water. Percy's father, glowing with a blue aura of power, rode a defiant circle around the giant's legs. As he swung his trident, the river responded, making a funnel cloud around the monster.

"No!" Kronos bellowed after a moment of stunned silence. "NO!"

"NOW, MY BRETHREN!" Poseidon's voice was so loud Percy wasn't sure if he was hearing it from the smoke image or from all the way across town. "STRIKE FOR OLYMPUS!"

Warriors burst out of the river, riding the waves on huge sharks and dragons and seahorses. It was a legion of Cyclopes, and leading them into battle was...

"Tyson!" Percy yelled.

He stared at his brother in amazement. He'd magically grown in size, at least thirty-feet-tall. For the first time he was wearing full battle armor. Riding behind him was Briares, the Hundred-Handed One.

All the Cyclopes held huge lengths of black iron chains—big enough to anchor a battleship—with grappling hooks at the ends. They swung them like lassos and began to ensnare Typhon, throwing lines around the creature's legs and arms, using the tide to keep circling, slowly tangling him. Typhon shook and roared and yanked at the chains, pulling some of the Cyclopes off their mounts; but there were too many chains. The sheer weight of the Cyclops battalion began to weigh Typhon down. Poseidon threw his trident and impaled the monster in the throat. Golden blood, immortal ichor, spewed from the wound, making a waterfall taller than a skyscraper. The trident flew back to Poseidon's hand.

The other gods struck with renewed force. Ares rode in and stabbed Typhon in the nose. Artemis shot the monster in the eye with a dozen silver arrows. Apollo shot a blazing volley of arrows and set the monster's loincloth on fire. And Zeus kept pounding the giant with lightning, until finally, slowly, the water rose, wrapping Typhon like a cocoon, and he began to sink under the weight of the chains.

Typhon bellowed in agony, thrashing with such force that waves sloshed the Jersey shore, soaking five-story buildings and splashing over the George Washington Bridge—but down he went as Poseidon opened a special tunnel for him at the bottom of the river—an endless waterslide that would take him straight to Tartarus. The giant's head went under in a seething whirlpool, and he was gone.

"BAH!" Kronos screamed. He slashed his sword through the smoke, tearing the image to shreds.

"They're on their way," Percy said. "You've lost."

"I haven't even started."

He advanced with blinding speed. Grover and Naomi charged together, but it was hopeless. Kronos smacked them aside like rag dolls, and they hit the marble ground hard.

Rage flooded Percy's entire body. He sidestepped and jabbed under Kronos's guard. It was a good trick. Unfortunately, Luke knew it. He countered the strike and disarmed Percy using the first move he'd ever taught him. Percy's sword skittered across the ground and fell straight into the open fissure.

"STOP!" Annabeth came from nowhere.

Kronos whirled to face her and slashed with Backbiter, but somehow Annabeth caught the strike on her dagger hilt. It was a move only the quickest and most skilled knife fighter could've managed. Percy didn't know where she found the strength, but she stepped in closer for leverage, their blades crossed. For a moment, she stood face to face with the Titan lord, holding him at a standstill.

"Luke," she said, gritting her teeth, "I understand now. You have to trust me."

Kronos roared in outrage. "Luke Castellan is dead! His body will burn away as I assume my true form!"

Percy tried to move but his body was frozen again. How could Annabeth, battered and half-dead with exhaustion, have the strength to fight a Titan like Kronos?

Kronos pushed against her, trying to dislodge his blade, but she held him in check, her arms trembling as he forced his sword down toward her neck.

"Your mother," Annabeth grunted. "She saw your fate."

"Service to Kronos!" the Titan roared. "This is my fate."

"No!" Annabeth insisted. Her eyes were tearing up, but Percy didn't know if it was from sadness or pain. "That's not the end, Luke. The prophecy—she saw what you would do. It applies to you!"

"I will crush you, child!" Kronos bellowed.

"You won't," Annabeth said. "You promised. You're holding Kronos back even now."

"LIES!" Kronos pushed again and this time Annabeth lost her balance. With his free hand, Kronos struck her face and she slid backward.

Percy summoned all his will. He managed to rise, but it was like holding the weight of the sky again.

Kronos loomed over Annabeth, his sword raised.

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She croaked, "Family, Luke. You promised."

Percy took a painful step forward. Grover was back on his feet, over by the throne of Hera, but he seemed to be struggling to move as well. Only Naomi managed to reach Annabeth, collapsing to her knees out of a handmade shadow at her side.

Kronos staggered. He stared at the knife in Annabeth's hand, the blood on her face. "Promise."

Then he gasped like he couldn't get air. "Annabeth..." But it wasn't the Titan's voice. It was Luke's. He stumbled forward like he couldn't control his own body. "You're bleeding..."

"My knife." Annabeth tried to raise her dagger, but it clattered out of her hand. Her arm was bent at a funny angle. She looked at Percy, imploring, "Percy, please..."

He could move again.

He surged forward and scooped up her knife. He knocked Backbiter out of Luke's hand and it spun into the hearth. Luke hardly paid him any attention. He stepped towards Annabeth and Naomi, but Percy put himself between them.

"Don't touch them," he said.

Anger rippled across the Titan's face. Kronos's voice growled: "Jackson..." Was it his imagination, or was Luke's whole body glowing, turning gold?

He gasped again. Luke's voice: "He's changing. Help. He's—He's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please—"

"NO!" Kronos bellowed. He looked around for his sword, but it was in the hearth, glowing among the coals.

He stumbled toward it. Percy tried to stop him, but he pushed him out of the way with such force that Percy landed next to Annabeth and cracked his head on the base of Athena's throne.

"The knife, Percy," Annabeth muttered. Her breath was shallow. "Hero... cursed blade..."

When his vision came back into focus, Percy saw Kronos grasping his sword. Then he bellowed in pain and dropped it. His hands were smoking and seared. The hearth fire had grown red hot, like the scythe wasn't compatible with it. Percy saw an image of Hestia flickering in the ashes, frowning at Kronos with disapproval.

Luke turned and collapsed, clutching his ruined hands. "Please, Percy..."

Percy struggled to his feet. He moved toward him with the knife. He should kill him. That was the plan. It was the smart thing to do.

Luke seemed to know what Percy was thinking. He moistened his lips. "You can't... can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can... can keep him controlled."

He was definitely glowing now, his skin starting to smoke.

Percy raised the knife to strike. Then he looked at Annabeth, at Naomi cradling her in her arms, wisps of shadows rising up to try to protect them both, at Grover trying to shield them, too.

Percy finally understood what Annabeth had been trying to tell him.

You are not the hero, Rachel had said. It will affect what you do.

"Please," Luke groaned. "No time."

If Kronos evolved into his true form, there would be no stopping him. He would make Typhon look like a playground bully.

The line from the Great Prophecy echoed in Percy's head: A hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.

His whole world tipped upside down, and he gave the knife to Luke.

Grover yelped. "Percy? Are you... um..."

Crazy? Insane? Off your rocker? Probably.

But he watched as Luke grasped the hilt, and Percy stood before him—defenseless.

Luke unlatched the side straps of his armor, exposing a small bit of his skin just under his left arm, a place that would be very hard to hit. With difficulty, he stabbed himself.

It wasn't a deep cut, but Luke howled. His eyes glowed like lava. The throne room shook, throwing Percy off his feet. An aura of energy surrounded Luke, growing brighter and brighter. Percy shut his eyes and felt a force like a nuclear explosion blister his skin and crack his lips.

It was silent for a long time.

When Percy opened his eyes, he saw Luke sprawled at the hearth. On the floor around him as a blackened circle of ash. Kronos's scythe had liquefied into molten metal and was trickling into the coals of the hearth, which now glowed like a blacksmith's furnace.

Luke's left side was bloody. His eyes were open—blue eyes, the way they used to be. His breath was a deep rattle.

"Good... blade," he croaked.

Percy knelt next to him. Annabeth limped over with Naomi and Grover's support. All of them had tears in their eyes.

Luke gazed at Annabeth. "You knew. I almost killed you, but you knew..."

"Shhh." Her voice trembled. "You were a hero in the end, Luke. You'll go to Elysium."

He shook his head weakly. "Think... rebirth. Try for three times. Isles of the Blest."

Annabeth sniffled, leaning heavily against Naomi's side. "You always pushed yourself too hard."

Luke held up his charred hand. Annabeth touched his fingertips.

"Did you..." Luke coughed and his lips glistened red. "Did you love me?"

Annabeth wiped her tears away. "There was a time I thought... well, I thought..." She looked beside her, to Naomi, who was already looking at her. Then she looked at Percy. It was like she was drinking in the fact that they were still there. And Percy realized he was doing the same.

The world was collapsing, and the only thing that mattered to him was that Annabeth and Naomi were alive.

"You were like a brother to me, Luke," Annabeth said softly. "But I didn't love you."

He nodded, as if he'd expected it. He winced in pain.

"We can get ambrosia," Grover said. "We can—"

"Grover," Luke gulped. "You're the bravest satyr I ever knew. But, no. There's no healing..." Another cough.

His eyes found Naomi. "I'm sorry," he croaked. "For Ethan, for Silena... for everything."

"They were heroes," Naomi managed. With visible effort, she whispered, "So were you."

If Luke noticed the hesitation in her voice, he didn't let on.

Instead, he gripped Percy's sleeve, and Percy could feel the heat of his skin like a fire. "Ethan. Me. All the unclaimed. Don't let it... Don't let it happen again."

His eyes were angry, but pleading, too.

"I won't," Percy said. "I promise."

Luke nodded, and his hand went slack.

The gods arrived a few minutes later in their full war regalia, thundering into the throne room and expecting a battle.

What they found were Annabeth, Naomi, Grover, and Percy standing over the body of a broken half-blood, in the dim light of the hearth.

"Percy," his father called, awe in his voice. "What... what is this?"

Percy turned and faced the Olympians.

"We need a shroud," he announced, his voice cracking. "A shroud for the son of Hermes."

Chapter 111: xx. all is said and done

Chapter Text

THE THREE FATES THEMSELVES took Luke's body.

Naomi hadn't seen the old ladies in years, since she and Percy had witnessed them snip a life thread at a roadside fruit stand when they were thirteen. They'd scared her then, and they scared her now—three ghoulish grandmothers with bags of knitting needles and yarn.

One of the Fates held up the snippet of blue yarn, and Naomi knew it was the same one she'd seen four years ago—the lifeline she'd watched them snip. Naomi had feared it was Percy's, but now she realized it was Luke's. The life that would have to be sacrificed to set things right.

They gathered up Luke's body, now wrapped in a white-and-green shroud, and began carrying it out of the throne room.

"Wait," Hermes said.

The messenger god was dressed in his classic outfit of white Greek robes, sandals, and helmet. The wings of his helm fluttered as he walked. The snakes George and Martha curled around his caduceus, murmuring, Luke, poor Luke.

Naomi thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come home. She wondered if losing her mind was a blessing—at least then, she might not realize why her son could never return.

Hermes unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured some words in Ancient Greek—a final blessing.

"Farewell," he whispered. Then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body.

Annabeth's knees buckled. Percy caught her but she cried out in pain. He'd accidentally grabbed her broken arm.

"Oh, gods," Percy said. "Annabeth, I'm sorry."

"It's all right," she said, as she passed out in his arms.

"She needs help!" Naomi yelled.

"I've got this." Apollo stepped forward. His fiery armor was so bright it was hard to look at, and his matching Ray-Bans and perfect smile made him look like a male model for battle gear. "God of medicine, at your service."

He passed his hand over Annabeth's face and spoke an incantation. Immediately the bruises faded. Her cuts and scars disappeared. Her arm straightened, and she sighed in her sleep.

Apollo grinned. "She'll be fine in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to compose a poem about our victory: 'Apollo and his friends save Olympus.' Good, eh?"

"Thanks, Apollo," Percy said. "I'll, um, let you handle the poetry."

The next few hours were a blur. The gods set about repairing the throne room, which went surprisingly fast with twelve super-powerful beings at work. Naomi, Grover, and Percy cared for the wounded, and once the sky bridge re-formed, greeted their friends who'd survived.

The Cyclopes had saved Thalia from the fallen statue. She was on crutches, but otherwise she was okay. Connor and Travis Stoll had made it through with only minor injuries.

As soon as she spotted her, Naomi all but fell into Drew's arms. They clung to each other for a few heartbeats, thanking the gods that their hearts could still beat at all.

Mrs. O'Leary had dug Chiron out of the rubble and rushed him off to camp. Katie reported she'd seen Rachel Elizabeth Dare run out of the Empire State Building at the end of the battle. Rachel had looked unharmed, but nobody knew where she'd gone.

Nico came into Olympus to a hero's welcome, his father right behind, despite the fact that Hades was only supposed to visit Olympus on the winter solstice. The god of the dead looked stunned when his relatives clapped him on the back.

Naomi's mother was just behind them. She didn't say anything as she came to Naomi—only pulled her into her arms and let her cry.

"My brave girl," Persephone murmured against her hair. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

That just made Naomi cry harder, but she didn't care. She figured she'd earned an emotional breakdown or two.

When Naomi managed to stop crying, Nico walked over, looking about as awkward as his father. "Good work," he said. "You saved Olympus."

Naomi sniffled. "We saved Olympus," she said. "You convinced Hades to join the fight."

"We convinced him," Nico said. "I'm pretty sure he only agreed because he was mad you called him a coward."

Naomi let out a watery laugh. "Get over here."

To her pleasant surprise, Nico didn't protest as she pulled him into a hug.

"I propose we start a tradition," Persephone announced as Hades came over to them. "Family dinners every week—well, only in the fall and winter, I suppose."

"We'll... talk about that later," Hades said. He regarded Naomi. "Well... congratulations, I suppose. You survived."

"Don't sound so disappointed," Naomi said, but it wasn't sincere.

Hades rolled his eyes. "I suppose I should be grateful," he muttered. "You're annoying enough as a mere visitor to the Underworld—I loathe to think of how much worse you would be as a permanent resident."

His voice was gruff, but there was a softness in his eyes.

Persephone smiled at her husband. She could see it, too.

Maybe Hestia was right—maybe Naomi would never have a true, permanent home. But she had a family, and she had friends, and she had Percy and Annabeth, who were both and more.

For now, that was enough.

"I must ask," Hades said. "The Percy boy? That's the one you chose?"

Naomi's face went red, but surprisingly, Nico's went even redder.

"Dad, what are you—why—what are you talking about?" he sputtered.

Hades raised an eyebrow at his son. "I'm trying to figure out what wires got crossed in your stepsister's head to make her think that upstart's a suitable romantic partner."

"Oh," Nico said. "Oh... you're talking to Naomi. Right, that makes sense."

Persephone looked at Naomi. "Percy? I thought you liked Annabeth."

Hades grunted. "That would be an improvement," he said. "Not a big one, but still."

"Can we not talk about this right now?" Naomi managed. "Or ever?"

Persephone and Hades were invited to attend the Olympian Council meeting. They sat in guest thrones at the foot of the hearth, and Nico sat cross-legged on the ground at his dad's feet.

Naomi stood with her friends in the middle of the throne room.

While Zeus gave some speech on the bravery of the gods, Annabeth walked in and stood between Naomi and Percy. She looked good for someone who'd recently passed out.

"Miss much?" she whispered.

"Nobody's planning to kill us, so far," Percy whispered back.

"First time today."

Percy cracked up, but Grover nudged him, because Hera was giving them a dirty look.

Naomi snickered under her breath. After everything she'd gone through in the last few days, an angry goddess of marriage was the least of her concerns.

"As for my brothers," Zeus said, "we are thankful"—he cleared his throat like the words were hard to get out—"erm, thankful for the aid of Hades."

The lord of the dead nodded. He had a smug look on his face, but he'd earned the right. He patted his son on the shoulders, and Nico looked happier than Naomi had ever seen him. It made her smile, too.

"And, of course," Zeus continued, though he looked like his pants were smoldering, "we must... um... thank Poseidon."

"I'm sorry, brother," Poseidon said. "What was that?"

"We must thank Poseidon," Zeus growled. "Without whom... it would've been difficult—"

"'Difficult'?" Poseidon asked innocently.

"Impossible," Zeus said. "Impossible to defeat Typhon."

The gods murmured agreement and pounded their weapons in approval.

"Which leaves us," Zeus said, "only the matter of thanking our young demigod heroes, who defended Olympus so well—even if there are a few dents in my throne."

He called Thalia forward first, since she was his daughter, and promised her help in filling the Hunters' ranks.

Artemis smiled. "You have done well, my lieutenant. You have made me proud, and all those Hunters who perished in my service will never be forgotten. They will achieve Elysium, I am sure."

She glared pointedly at Hades.

He shrugged. "Probably."

Artemis glared at him some more.

"We'll streamline the application process," Persephone promised.

Artemis smiled, satisfied with that.

Thalia beamed with pride. "Thank you, my lady." She bowed to the gods, even Hades and Persephone, and then limped over to stand by Artemis's side.

"Tyson, son of Poseidon!" Zeus called. Tyson looked nervous, but he went to stand in the middle of the Council, and Zeus grunted.

"Doesn't miss many meals, does he?" Zeus muttered. "Tyson, for your bravery in the war, and for leading the Cyclopes, you are appointed a general in the armies of Olympus. You shall henceforth lead your brethren into war whenever required by the gods. And you shall have a new... um... what kind of weapon would you like? A sword? An ax?"

"Stick!" Tyson said, showing his broken club.

"Very well," Zeus said. "We will grant you a new, er, stick. The best stick that may be found."

"Hooray!" Tyson cried, and all the Cyclopes cheered and pounded him on the back as he rejoined them.

"Grover Underwood of the satyrs!" Dionysus called.

Grover came forward nervously.

"Oh, stop chewing your shirt," Dionysus chided. "Honestly, I'm not going to blast you. For your bravery and sacrifice, blah, blah, blah, and since we have an unfortunate vacancy, the gods have seen fit to name you a member of the Council of Cloven Elders."

Grover collapsed on the spot.

"Oh, wonderful," Dionysus sighed, as several naiads came forward to help Grover. "Well, when he wakes up, someone tell him that he will no longer be an outcast, and that all satyrs, naiads, and other spirits of nature will henceforth treat him as a Lord of the Wild, with all rights, privileges, and honors, blah, blah, blah. Now please, drag him off before he wakes up and starts groveling."

"FOOOOOD," Grover moaned, as the nature spirits carried him away.

Naomi was pretty sure he'd be okay. He'd wake up a Lord of the Wild with a bunch of beautiful nymphs taking care of him. Life could be worse.

Athena called, "Annabeth Chase, my own daughter."

Annabeth looked at Percy and Naomi, then walked forward and knelt at her mother's feet.

Athena smiled. "You, my daughter, have exceeded all expectations. You have used your wits, your strength, and your courage to defend this city, and our seat of power. It has come to our attention that Olympus is... well, trashed. The Titan lord did much damage that will have to be repaired. We could rebuild it by magic, of course, and make it just as it was. But the gods feel that the city could be improved. We will take this as an opportunity. And you, my daughter, will design these improvements."

Annabeth looked up, stunned. "My... my lady?"

Athena smiled wryly. "You are an architect, are you not? You have studied the techniques of Daedalus himself. Who better to redesign Olympus and make it a monument that will last for another eon?"

"You mean... I can design whatever I want?"

"As your heart desires," the goddess said. "Make us a city for the ages."

"As long as you have plenty of statues of me," Apollo added.

"And me," Aphrodite agreed.

"Hey, and me!" Ares said. "Big statues with huge wicked swords and—"

"All right!" Athena interrupted. "She gets the point. Rise, my daughter, official architect of Olympus."

Annabeth rose in a trance and walked back toward Percy and Naomi.

"Way to go," Percy told her, grinning.

For once, Annabeth was at a loss for words. "I'll... I'll have to start planning... Drafting paper, and, um, pencils—"

"Naomi Sakura, daughter of Persephone," Zeus called.

With a deep breath, Naomi stepped forward. She bowed first to Zeus, then knelt in front of her mother and stepfather.

"I think I speak for all the gods when I say none of us knew what to expect of you," Zeus said. "There has never been a demigod child of Persephone ever before, especially one of your...pedigree..." He side-eyed Persephone, who took a sudden interest in her floral-patterned skirt. "Regardless of the... circumstances of your birth, you have proven yourself to be a worthy hero of Olympus."

"And more than that," Persephone said, looking up from her skirt with eyes full of pride, "a worthy diplomat."

Naomi blinked. "I... don't understand."

Hades sighed, though his annoyance seemed to be mostly a façade. "It was you, Naomi, who convinced us to come to Olympus's aid. I highly doubt anyone would argue that the relations between my kingdom and those of my brothers are... strained, to say the least."

"That's putting it nicely," Poseidon mumbled.

"I am a goddess of Olympus and a goddess of the Underworld," Persephone said, "but I'm confined by the seasons. You, my daughter, can travel freely between the two. And so, you are best equipped to help us mend our relationship."

"Mend?" Ares repeated. "Why do we have to mend anything?"

Demeter glared at him. "Hush. This is not your moment, Ares."

The god of war mumbled something incoherent under his breath, but fell silent once more.

"It will not be an easy task," Persephone warned Naomi. "There has been millennia's worth of bad blood between Olympus and the Underworld—the rift will not be healed overnight. But I believe Lord Zeus, Lord Poseidon, and Lord Hades would agree that, if this war has taught us anything, it is the importance of unity against our enemies."

"Unless there are any reasonable objections," Hades said, scowling at Ares, "I move to name Naomi Sakura our official diplomat."

The Council was silent.

"Well," Zeus said. "Do you accept, Naomi Sakura?"

Naomi looked toward the hearth, where Hestia sat, happy to go unnoticed. But she caught Naomi's gaze, her smile as warm as the flames she tended.

Naomi looked back at Zeus. "I accept."

"Then rise, Naomi Sakura," Hades said, "Diplomat of the Gods."

Naomi stood.

Persephone rose from her throne and walked over to her daughter with a gentle smile. A laurel crown with flowers twisted within it appeared in her hands, and she placed it on Naomi's head.

"A crown fit for a Princess of Shadows," she murmured, pressing a kiss to Naomi's forehead. "Congratulations, Kore."

Naomi's face was flush with joy as she walked back to her friends.

Percy looked like he was trying not to smile. "Nice crown," he whispered.

"You're just jealous you didn't get one," Naomi whispered back.

"Maybe a little."

Annabeth grinned at her. "It looks good on you, Buttercup."

Naomi's warm cheeks ached from smiling.

"PERCY JACKSON!" Poseidon announced. His name echoed around the chamber.

All the talking died down. The room went silent except for the crackle of the hearth fire. Everyone's eyes were on Percy—all the gods, all the demigods, the Cyclopes, the spirits. Percy walked into the middle of the throne room.

First, he bowed to Zeus. Then he knelt at his father's feet.

"Rise, my son," Poseidon said.

Percy stood.

"A great hero must be rewarded," Poseidon said. "Is there anyone here who would deny that my son is deserving?"

Not a single god protested.

"The Council agrees," Zeus said. "Percy Jackson, you will have one gift from the gods."

Percy hesitated. "Any gift?"

Zeus nodded grimly. "I know what you will ask. The greatest gift of all. Yes, if you want it, it shall be yours. The gods have not bestowed this gift on a mortal hero in many centuries, but, Perseus Jackson—if you wish it—you shall be made a god. Immortal. Undying. You shall serve as your father's lieutenant for all time."

Naomi's heart stopped. Annabeth reached out, her hand finding Naomi's. She looked pale. Naomi doubted she looked any better.

Percy stared at Zeus. "Um... a god?"

Zeus rolled his eyes. "A dimwitted god, apparently. But yes. With the consensus of the entire Council, I can make you immortal. Then I will have to put up with you forever."

"Hmm," Ares mused. "That means I can smash him to a pulp as often as I want, and he'll just keep coming back for more. I like this idea."

"I approve as well," Athena said, though she was looking at Annabeth.

Percy looked back, his eyes landing on Naomi and Annabeth. Annabeth couldn't seem to meet his eyes, but Naomi swallowed against the lump in his throat, and met his gaze. She managed a smile.

If anyone deserved to be a god, it was him.

Even if it meant saying goodbye to him forever.

Percy was silent for a long time. When he spoke, it was only one word:

"No."

The Council was silent. The gods frowned at each other like they must have misheard.

"No?" Zeus said. "You are... turning down our generous gift?"

There was a dangerous edge to his voice, like a thunderstorm about to erupt.

"I'm honored and everything," Percy said. "Don't get me wrong. It's just... I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak my junior year."

The gods were glaring at him, but Annabeth put her hand over her mouth. Her eyes were shining.

Naomi's tiny smile spread into a grin.

"I do want a gift, though," Percy said. "Do you promise to grant my wish?"

Zeus thought about it. "If it is within our power."

"It is," Percy said. "And it's not even difficult. But I need your promise on the River Styx."

"What?" Dionysus cried. "You don't trust us?"

"Someone once told me," Percy said, looking at Hades, "you should always get a solemn oath."

Hades shrugged. "Guilty."

"Very well!" Zeus growled. "In the name of the Council, we swear by the River Styx to grant your reasonable request as long as it is within our power."

The other gods muttered assent. Thunder boomed, shaking the throne room. The deal was made.

"From now on, I want you to properly recognize the children of the gods," Percy said. "All the children... of all the gods."

The Olympians shifted uncomfortably. From their guest thrones, Persephone and Hades watched the scene unfold like it was an Oscar-winning movie. The only thing missing was the popcorn.

"Percy," Poseidon said, "what exactly do you mean?"

"Kronos couldn't have risen if it hadn't been for a lot of demigods who felt abandoned by their parents," Percy said. "They felt angry, resentful, and unloved, and they had a good reason."

Zeus's royal nostrils flared. "You dare accuse—"

"No more undetermined children," Percy said. "I want you to promise to claim your children—all your demigod children—by the time they turn thirteen. They won't be left out in the world on their own at the mercy of monsters. I want them claimed and brought to camp so they can be trained right, and survive."

"Now, wait just a moment," Apollo said, but Percy was on a roll.

"And the minor gods," Percy said. "Nemesis, Hecate, Morpheus, Janus, Hebe—they all deserve a general amnesty and a place at Camp Half-Blood. Their children shouldn't be ignored. Calypso and the other peaceful Titan-kind should be pardoned too. And Hades and Persephone—"

"Are you calling me a minor god?" Hades asked dangerously.

Persephone smacked his arm. "Let him finish."

"No, my lord," Percy said quickly. "But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico and Naomi have proven that. No unclaimed demigods will be crammed into the Hermes cabin anymore, wondering who their parents are. They'll have their own cabins, for all the gods. And no more pact of the Big Three. That didn't work anyway. You've got to stop trying to get rid of powerful demigods. We're going to train them and accept them instead. All children of the gods will be welcome and treated with respect. That is my wish."

Zeus snorted. "Is that all?"

"Percy," Poseidon said, "you ask much. You presume much."

"I hold you to your oath," Percy said. "All of you."

He got a lot of steely looks. Surprisingly, it was Athena who spoke up: "The boy is correct. We have been unwise to ignore our children. It proved a strategic weakness in this war and almost caused our destruction. Percy Jackson, I have had my doubts about you, but perhaps"—she glanced at Annabeth, and then spoke as if the words had a sour taste—"perhaps I was mistaken. I move that we accept the boy's plan."

"Humph," Zeus said. "Being told what to do by a mere child. But I suppose..."

"All in favor," Hermes said.

All the gods raised their hands.

"Um, thanks," Percy said.

He turned, but before he could leave, Poseidon called, "Honor guard!"

Immediately the Cyclopes came forward and made two lines from the thrones to the door—an aisle for Percy to walk through. They came to attention.

"All hail, Perseus Jackson," Tyson said. "Hero of Olympus... and my big brother!"

Chapter 112: xxi. new oracles, burning shrouds, and underwater kisses

Chapter Text

NAOMI, ANNABETH, AND PERCY WERE ON THEIR WAY OUT when Percy stopped. He was looking at Hermes, the god staring at an Iris-message in the mist of a fountain.

Percy looked at Naomi and Annabeth. "I'll meet you at the elevator."

"You sure?" Annabeth asked. Then she studied his face. "Yeah, you're sure."

They watched him walk away, then started walking toward the elevator.

Annabeth reached for Naomi's hand, tangling their fingers together. The butterflies that lived in Naomi's stomach raged.

"We need to talk when we get back to camp," Annabeth said softly. "You, me, and Percy."

Naomi feigned a wince. "Are we in trouble?"

Annabeth smiled. "Only for making it take this long."

She looked exhausted, and Naomi had a feeling the circles under her eyes would be sticking around for a while. But she was still beautiful. Naomi never wanted to look away.

"We made a mess of things, didn't we?" Annabeth whispered.

Naomi smiled. She leaned her head on Annabeth's shoulder, and Annabeth leaned her head on top of Naomi's. "You say that like you expected us to do it any differently."

Annabeth laughed. Naomi had heard the Muses singing and Apollo playing his lyre, but that laugh was more beautiful than either of them. She could listen to it forever.

"Besides," Naomi said lightly, "when is love ever not messy?"

"You make an excellent point, dear."

Naomi and Annabeth jumped, startled at the sudden presence of the goddess of love before them. Aphrodite smiled, but there was a diminished quality to it—as if the light of her smile had dimmed a few notches.

The goddess's appearance rarely stayed the same for long, but for a moment, Naomi saw Silena's eyes. Her heart ached.

"Lady Aphrodite," Annabeth said nervously.

"I just wanted to come and congratulate you two personally," the goddess said.

Naomi's face felt warm. "It was a... group effort."

Aphrodite waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, not on the battle—though, of course, you did very well in that, too, I suppose. But I came to congratulate you on you. I do so love a good love triangle, but there's something about all the sides connecting that just... well, it's a rare beauty, don't you think?"

Naomi's cheeks were officially on fire. "Um... thanks."

"And," Aphrodite continued, her voice growing softer. "I wanted to... You know gods can only do so much for their children, and I..." She took a deep breath. Her blue eyes were glassy. "I wanted to ask that you make sure my children are alright. With Silena..." She faltered.

Naomi swallowed against the tightness in her throat. "She died a hero in the end," she whispered. "That's all that matters."

Aphrodite nodded gently. "Yes," she whispered. "That is... all that matters."

She gave the pair a final smile, then turned, heading back toward the throne room with a flourish of her skirts.

Naomi's eyes stung.

Annabeth squeezed her hand. For a moment, it was the only thing anchoring her to the world.

Naomi knew her pillow would be soaked with tears when she went to bed that night—probably for several nights after it. There was a lifetime of healing in store for her, and a lifetime of grief.

But for now... she just had to breathe.

Percy met them at the elevator.

"Why do you smell like smoke?" Annabeth asked him.

"Long story," he answered.

Together, the three made their way down to the street level. None of them said a word. The music was predictably awful—Neil Diamond or something.

When they got to the lobby, they found Percy's parents arguing with the bald security guy, who'd returned to his post.

"I'm telling you," Sally yelled, "we have to go up! My son—" Then she saw Percy and her eyes widened. "Percy!"

She hugged him, tears in her eyes.

"We saw the building lit up blue," she said. "But then you didn't come down." She pulled away from Percy and hugged Naomi so tight she thought she might break a rib or two. "You went up hours ago!"

"She was getting a bit anxious," Paul said dryly.

"I'm all right," Percy promised as Sally hugged Annabeth. "Everything's okay now."

"Mr. Blofis," Annabeth said, "that was wicked sword work."

Paul shrugged. "It seemed like the thing to do. But Percy, is this really... I mean, this story about the six hundredth floor?"

"Olympus," Percy said. "Yeah."

Paul looked at the ceiling with a dreamy expression. "I'd like to see that."

"Paul," Sally chided. "It's not for mortals. Anyway, the important thing is we're safe. All of us."

Naomi almost let herself relax. Everything felt perfect. She, Annabeth, and Percy were okay. Kronos was gone. Olympus was saved.

But the life of a demigod was never that easy. Just then Nico ran in from the street, and his face made it clear something was wrong.

"It's Rachel," he said. "I just ran into her down on Thirty-second."

Annabeth frowned. "What's she done this time?"

"It's where she's gone," Nico said. "I told her she would die if she tried, but she insisted. She just took Blackjack and—"

"She took my pegasus?" Percy demanded.

Nico nodded. "She's heading to Half-Blood Hill. She said she had to get to camp."

"What was she thinking?" Annabeth said as they ran for the river.

The traffic was chaos incarnate. Everybody was out on the streets gawking at the war zone damage. Police sirens wailed on every block. There was no possibility of catching a cab, and the pegasi had flown away. The Party Ponies had disappeared (along with most of the root beer in Midtown).

So they ran, pushing through mobs of dazed mortals that clogged the sidewalks.

"She'll never get through the defenses," Annabeth said. "Peleus will eat her."

"We've got to hurry," Percy said.

Naomi looked at Nico. "Where's Skia and Mrs. O'Leary?"

"Last I saw, passed out in a parking lot a couple blocks from Olympus," Nico said, wheezing as he ran.

Naomi chewed on her lip. Nico looked like he'd pass out just summoning a wishbone. She didn't feel much better, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

She pointed toward the closest alley. It wasn't completely dark, but the shadows should suffice. "Over there," she said, running toward it with the others on her heels.

"You can't shadow-travel all of us back to camp," Nico protested as they reached the shadows. "After the battle? You'll pass out."

"Probably," Naomi agreed. "But it's the quickest way. Just... someone catch me if I do pass out."

She grabbed Nico and Percy's hands as Annabeth grabbed their other hands. She called on the shadows around her, feeling them wrap around her and her companions. All the while, she concentrated on the Big House, praying to all the gods there was a good enough shadow to land in.

After a weightless second, they stumbled out of a shadow cast by the overhang of the Big House roof. Naomi wavered for a moment, but surprisingly, she managed to stay on her feet.

"Maybe I do need to practice more," Nico muttered breathlessly, looking at Naomi.

The four demigods ran around the side of the building. It was evident something big was happening. Green light was shooting out of all the windows. Mist—the magical kind—swirled around the yard. Chiron lay on a horse-sized stretcher by the volleyball pit, a bunch of satyrs standing around him. Blackjack cantered nervously in the grass.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare stood at the bottom of the porch steps. Her arms were raised like she was waiting for someone inside the house to throw her a ball.

"What's she doing?" Annabeth demanded. "How did she get past the barriers?"

"She flew," one of the satyrs said, looking accusingly at Blackjack. "Right past the dragon, right through the magic boundaries."

"Rachel!" Percy called, but the satyrs stopped him when he tried to go any closer.

"Percy, don't," Chiron warned. He winced as he tried to move. His left arm was in a sling, his two back legs were in splints, and his head was wrapped in bandages. "You can't interrupt."

"I thought you explained things to her!"

"I did. And I invited her here."

Percy stared at him in disbelief. "You said you'd never let anyone try again! You said—"

"I know what I said, Percy. But I was wrong. Rachel had a vision about the curse of Hades. She believes it may be lifted now. She convinced me she deserves a chance."

"And if the curse isn't lifted? If Hades hasn't gotten to that yet, she'll go crazy!"

The Mist swirled around Rachel. She shivered like she was going into shock.

"Hey!" Percy shouted. "Stop!"

He ran toward her, ignoring the satyrs. He got within ten feet and seemed to hit an invisible wall. He bounced back and landed in the grass.

Rachel opened her eyes and turned. She looked like she was sleepwalking—like she could see Percy, but only in a dream.

"It's all right." Her voice sounded far away. "This is why I've come."

"You'll be destroyed!"

She shook her head. "This is where I belong, Percy. I finally understand why."

The house rumbled. The door flew open and green light poured out. Naomi recognized the warm musty smell of snakes.

Mist curled into a hundred smoky serpents, slithering up the porch columns, curling around the house. Then the Oracle appeared in the doorway.

The withered mummy shuffled forward in her rainbow dress. She looked even worse than usual, which was saying something. Her hair was falling out in clumps. Her leathery skin was cracking like the seat of a worn-out bus. Her glassy eyes stared blankly into space.

Rachel held out her arms. She didn't look scared.

"You've waited too long," Rachel said. "But I'm here now."

The sun blazed more brightly. A man appeared above the porch, floating in the air—a blond dude in a white toga, with sunglasses and a cocky smile.

"Apollo," Percy said.

He winked at Percy but held up his finger to his lips.

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he said. "You have the gift of prophecy. But it is also a curse. Are you sure you want this?"

Rachel nodded. "It's my destiny."

"Do you accept the risks?"

"I do."

"Then proceed," the god said.

Rachel closed her eyes. "I accept this role. I pledge myself to Apollo, God of Oracles. I open my eyes to the future and embrace the past. I accept the spirit of Delphi, Voice of the Gods, Speaker of Riddles, Seer of Fate."

Naomi wasn't sure where she got the words, but they flowed out of Rachel as the Mist thickened. A green column of smoke, like a huge python, uncoiled from the mummy's mouth and slithered down the stairs, curling affectionately around Rachel's feet. The Oracle's mummy crumbled, falling away until it was nothing but a pile of dust in an old tie-dyed dress. Mist enveloped Rachel in a column.

For a moment, Naomi couldn't see her at all. Then the smoke cleared.

Rachel collapsed and curled into the fetal position. Naomi and her friends rushed forward, but Apollo said, "Stop! This is the most delicate part."

"What's going on?" Percy demanded. "What do you mean?"

Apollo studied Rachel with concern. "Either the spirit takes hold, or it doesn't."

"And if it doesn't?" Annabeth asked.

"Five syllables," Apollo said, counting them on his fingers. "That would be real bad."

Despite Apollo's warning, Percy ran forward and knelt over Rachel. The Mist sank to the ground and the green light faded. But Rachel was still pale. She didn't look like she was breathing.

Nico grabbed Naomi's wrist. She knew he felt it, too—Rachel's life ebbing, fading.

Then her eyes fluttered open. She focused on Percy with difficulty. "Percy."

"Are you okay?"

She tried to sit up. "Ow." She pressed her hands to her temples.

"Rachel," Nico said, "your life aura almost faded completely. I could see you dying."

"I'm all right," she murmured. "Please, help me up. The visions—they're a little disorienting."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy asked.

Apollo drifted down from the porch. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the new Oracle of Delphi."

"You're kidding," Annabeth said.

Rachel managed a weak smile. "It's a little surprising to me, too, but this is my fate. I saw it when I was in New York. I know why I was born with true sight. I was meant to become the Oracle."

Percy blinked. "You mean you can tell the future now?"

"Not all the time," she said. "But there are visions, images, words in my mind. When someone asks me a question, I... oh no—"

"It's starting," Apollo announced.

Rachel doubled over, as if someone had punched her. Then she stood up straight and her eyes glowed serpent green.

When she spoke, her voice sounded tripled—like three Rachels were talking at once:

"Eight half-bloods shall answer the call,

to storm or fire the world must fall.

Darkness falls where the ancestor dwells,

when hope is lost and terror swells.

An oath to keep with a final breath,

and foes bear arms to the Doors of Death."

At the last word, Rachel collapsed. Nico and Percy caught her and helped her to the porch.

"I'm all right," she said, her voice returning to normal.

Naomi blinked. "Um... what was that?"

Rachel shook her head, confused. "What was what?"

"I believe," Apollo said, "that we just heard the next Great Prophecy."

"What does it mean?" Percy demanded.

Rachel frowned. "I don't even remember what I said."

"No," Apollo mused. "The spirit will only speak through you occasionally. The rest of the time, our Rachel will be much as she's always been. There's no point in grilling her, even if she has just issued the next big prediction for the future of the world."

"What?" Percy said. "But—"

"Percy," Apollo said, "I wouldn't worry too much. The last Great Prophecy about you took almost seventy years to complete. This one may not even happen in your lifetime."

Naomi prayed to the gods that was true. She didn't like the sound of the prophecy—the lines about storms and fire and Doors of Death, and darkness falling. What could it mean?

Naomi hoped she'd die a peaceful, natural death before the world ever figured it out.

"Maybe," Percy said, "but it didn't sound so good."

"No," said Apollo cheerfully. "It certainly didn't. She's going to make a wonderful Oracle!"

It was hard to drop the subject, but Apollo insisted Rachel needed to rest, and she did look pretty disoriented.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she said. "Back on Olympus, I didn't explain everything to you, but the calling frightened me. I didn't think you'd understand."

"I still don't," Percy admitted. "But I guess I'm happy for you."

Rachel smiled. "Happy probably isn't the right word. Seeing the future isn't going to be easy, but it's my destiny. I only hope my family..."

She didn't finish her thought.

"Will you still go to Clarion Academy?" Percy asked.

"I made a promise to my father. I guess I'll try to be a normal kid during the school year, but—"

"But right now you need sleep," Apollo scolded. "Chiron, I don't think the attic is the proper place for our new Oracle, do you?"

"No, indeed." Chiron looked a lot better now that Apollo had worked some medical magic on him. "Rachel may use a guest room in the Big House for now, until we give the matter more thought."

"I'm thinking a cave in the hills," Apollo mused. "With torches and a big purple curtain over the entrance... really mysterious. But inside, a totally decked-out pad with a game room and one of those home theater systems."

Chiron cleared his throat loudly.

"What?" Apollo demanded.

Rachel kissed Percy on the cheek. Annabeth made a face, and Naomi was torn between laughing and joining her. Rachel whispered something to Percy, who blushed, before she turned and followed Apollo into the Big House.

The rest of the day was as strange as the beginning. Campers trickled in from New York by car, pegasus, and chariot. The wounded were cared for. The dead were given proper funeral rites at the campfire, overseen by Naomi and Nico.

Silena's shroud was hot pink, embroidered with an electric spear. The Ares and Aphrodite cabins both claimed her as a hero, and lit the shroud together. No one mentioned the word spy. That secret burned to ashes as the designer perfume smoke drifted into the sky.

Ethan was given a shroud as well—black silk, with a logo of swords crossed under a set of scales. As his shroud went up in flames, Naomi hoped he knew he'd made a difference in the end. He'd paid a lot more than an eye, but the minor gods would finally get the respect they deserved. Naomi would make sure of it. And she'd remember him as a hero in the end.

The rest... well, she was okay forgetting some of the details.

Dinner at the pavilion was quiet. The only highlight was Juniper the tree nymph who screamed, "Grover!" and gave her boyfriend a flying-tackle hug, making everybody cheer. They went down to the beach to take a moonlit walk, and Naomi was happy for them, though she couldn't help but think of Silena and Beckendorf.

Skia and Mrs. O'Leary romped around happily, eating everybody's table scraps. Nico sat at the main table with Chiron and Mr. D, and nobody seemed to think that was out of place. Everybody was patting Nico on the back, complimenting him on his fighting. Even the Ares kids thought he was pretty cool. Naomi was happy to see him so easily accepted into the fold of the camp—after everything he'd been through, it was the least he deserved. She hoped he'd stick around this time, at least for a little while.

Slowly, the dinner crowd trickled away. Some went to the campfire for a singalong. Others went to bed.

Annabeth grabbed Naomi's hand and dragged her and Tyson to the Big House. They went to work baking a single blue cupcake. They let Tyson handle the icing.

A little while later, with the cupcake in hand, Annabeth and Naomi sat down on either side of Percy at the Poseidon table.

"Hey," Annabeth said, holding out the misshapen cupcake. "Happy birthday."

Percy stared at her. "What?"

"It's August eighteenth," Naomi said. "Your birthday."

Percy blinked. He looked stunned, and Naomi understood—after the last few days, she couldn't really blame him for forgetting his own birthday.

"Make a wish," Annabeth told him.

Percy looked at the cupcake. "Did you guys bake this yourselves?"

"Tyson helped."

"That explains why it looks like a chocolate brick," he said. "With extra-blue cement."

Naomi hit his arm lightly. "Like you could do better."

"Oh, you know I could," Percy countered.

Annabeth laughed that beautiful laugh. "Make a wish," she said again.

Percy thought for a second, then blew out the candle. Naomi wondered what he wished for, but she didn't ask. She could live without knowing.

They split the cupcake into thirds and shared, eating with their fingers. The three sat together and watched the ocean. Crickets and monsters were making noises in the woods, but otherwise it was quiet.

"You saved the world," Annabeth said.

"We saved the world."

"And Rachel is the new Oracle, which means she won't be dating anybody."

Naomi laughed, and Percy looked from her to Annabeth, raising an eyebrow.

"You don't sound disappointed," Percy told Annabeth.

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't care."

"Uh-huh."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "You got something to say to me, Seaweed Brain?"

"You'd probably kick my butt."

"Oh, she'd definitely kick your butt," Naomi said, grinning at Annabeth.

Percy brushed the cake off his hands. "When I was at the River Styx," he said, his voice taking on a soft tone, "turning invulnerable... I had to concentrate on one thing that kept me anchored to the world, that made me want to stay mortal."

Naomi looked at him, remembering how he'd sank into the river, how she'd been terrified it would kill him before Kronos ever got the chance to try.

Annabeth, on the other hand, kept her eyes on the horizon. "Yeah?"

"Then up on Olympus," Percy continued, "when they wanted to make me a god and stuff, I kept thinking—"

"Oh, you so wanted to," Annabeth teased.

"Well, maybe a little. But I didn't, because I thought—I didn't want things to stay the same for eternity, because things could always get better. And I was thinking..."

He faltered.

"Anyone in particular?" Naomi asked.

Percy looked over and saw the way she was fighting a smile. A look at Annabeth said she wasn't faring any better.

"You're laughing at me," he complained.

"We're not!" Annabeth said, but she was already breaking.

"You are so not making this easy."

They both laughed for real. Annabeth put her arms around his neck. "We are never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it."

She kissed him, and Naomi wished she was an artist so she could immortalize the moment forever in a painting.

But she wasn't, so she settled for kissing him, too.

She would've been happy to stay there forever, except a voice behind them growled, "Well, it's about time!"

Suddenly the pavilion was filled with torchlight and campers. Clarisse led the way as the eavesdroppers charged and hoisted the three demigods onto their shoulders.

"Oh, come on!" Percy complained. "Is there no privacy?"

"The lovebirds need to cool off!" Clarisse said with glee.

"The canoe lake!" Connor shouted.

With a huge cheer, they carried Percy, Annabeth, and Naomi down the hill, but they kept them close enough to hold hands. Naomi's face felt as hot as the hearth on Olympus, but she couldn't help but laugh.

They held hands right up to the moment the campers dumped them in the water.

Afterward, they got the last laugh. Percy made an air bubble at the bottom of the lake. Their friends kept waiting for them to come back up, but the trio weren't in a hurry.

Instead, they just enjoyed the solitude, and had some of the best underwater kisses of all time.

Chapter 113: xxii. the hurting and the healing

Chapter Text

CAMP WENT LATE THAT SUMMER. It lasted two more weeks, right up to the start of the new school year, and Naomi had to say, they were the best two weeks of her life.

Grover had taken over the satyr seekers and was sending them out across the world to find unclaimed half-bloods. So far, the gods had kept their promise. New demigods were popping up all over the place—not just in America, but in a lot of other countries as well.

Naomi and Nico came to an agreement—rather than build a Hades cabin and a Persephone cabin (Naomi loved her half-aunts and half-uncles in Cabin Four, but Demeter had warned them they would probably getting quite a few new additions to their cabin, so they could use the room), they'd build a Hades-and-Persephone cabin.

Persephone had made it clear she didn't plan on having anymore demigod children, and even without the Big Three Oath, Hades didn't have a lot of his own, so it made sense to just make a cabin for the two of them. They did decide to build separate rooms rather than the typical open-concept cabin, because Naomi loved her stepbrother, but she also loved privacy.

Annabeth helped them with the blueprints—Naomi insisted on an attached greenhouse for flowers and pomegranate trees straight from the Underworld, since Nico's Hades-ness wouldn't kill those just by being around—and Nico recruited (or rather, summoned) a crew of undead builders to work on the cabin. It was going to look pretty cool—solid obsidian walls with a skull over the door and torches that burned with green fire twenty-four hours a day. Naomi decorated the front porch with flowers (Nico insisted on dark ones—Naomi feared his emo phase wasn't going anywhere anytime soon).

As she tacked decorations onto her bedroom walls—pictures of her friends at camp, a few posters Percy and Annabeth had brought her from the real world over the years—Nico walked in, knocking on the door-frame.

"Katie Gardner's looking for you," Nico said, inviting himself to sit down on her freshly-made bed. "She said you left a mint plant in the Demeter cabin."

"Pepper!" Naomi gasped. "I can't believe I left her!"

Nico blinked at her. "You named your mint plant Pepper? That's dumb."

Naomi did the mature thing and stuck her tongue out at him. "She's special. She deserves a good name."

"But Pepper?"

She rolled her eyes. "She appreciates it," she said. "Now make yourself useful and help me hang this up." She shook the bi flag Silena had gifted her last winter at him.

Nico sighed like she'd just given him a labor-intensive chore. "Fine," he muttered, standing back up. Naomi handed him one corner and took the other, stabbing a thumbtack into the wall to secure it over her headboard. She handed one to Nico for him to do the same, and stuck one in the middle just in case.

She stepped back and scrutinized it, making sure it was level.

Nico frowned at it. "What country is that, anyway?"

Naomi looked at him, confused. "It's not a country. It's a pride flag."

Nico blinked at her, lost.

It was then that Naomi remembered Nico had been out of commission between the 1940s and now. He probably didn't know anything about the LGBT community. He'd been a kid when he entered the Lotus Hotel—it made sense that he was confused.

Not for the first time in the last few weeks, Naomi wished Silena was here. She'd been so good at teaching Naomi.

But now, it was up to Naomi to teach Nico. Passing the torch, in a way.

She hoped she'd make Silena proud.

"It represents my sexuality—bisexuality," Naomi said. "It means I don't just like one gender. It's how I like Percy and Annabeth."

"So... all bisexuals date more than one person?" Nico asked, still looking confused.

"No," Naomi said. She was glad Silena had given her an additional lesson in non-monogamous relationships over the summer. "I'm polyamorous—that's how I like more than one person."

"Okay," Nico said slowly. "So... you like boys and girls?"

Naomi chewed on her lip. "That's how some people view bisexuality. For me, it's just a label that means I like more than one gender. I don't think gender would really affect how I feel about someone."

Nico nodded slowly, seeming to catch on.

"I'll give you a crash-course," she offered, and continued when he nodded. "I'm bisexual, but there are other sexualities—most commonly, heterosexual, homosexual, and asexual. Heterosexuality is liking the opposite gender, homosexuality is liking the same gender, and asexuality is kind of an umbrella term for not really feeling attraction to anyone."

Nico sat back down on her bed, sitting crisscross applesauce. "How did you... know?"

"How did I know I wasn't straight?" Naomi asked. At Nico's confused look, she added, "Straight's another term for heterosexual. Gay is another term for homosexuals—or lesbian, if you're a girl who likes girls."

"Okay," Nico said. "How did you know you weren't straight?"

Naomi shrugged, joining him on her bed. "I guess I always knew," she said. "I had crushes on boys and girls when I was little. I learned to hide the girl crushes, though—Catholic nuns don't appreciate little girls playing house without play-husbands. But I've always felt that way."

"But isn't that... wrong?" Nico asked, looking strangely small. He hugged his bent legs to his chest. "For girls to like girls, and... boys to like boys?"

"No," Naomi said. "You don't choose who you love, Nico. It's not something you should ever be ashamed of. Anyone who tries to say otherwise—they're the one that's wrong."

Nico stared at the floor for so long, Naomi thought he wouldn't say anything else. Then, so quietly she almost missed it, he said, "I do—like boys."

Naomi nudged him gently in the arm. "Anyone in particular?"

Nico's face flushed red. "No. Yes."

Naomi fought a chuckle. "Are you going to tell me who?"

"No," Nico said, shaking his head firmly. "Definitely not."

This time, Naomi did laugh a little. "Okay," she said, backing off. She smiled softly. "Thanks for trusting me, Nico."

Nico shrugged. "You're my sister," he mumbled. "Of course I trust you."

Naomi's small smile split into a grin. She knew what it meant for Nico to say that, and it meant the world for Naomi to hear.

She still wasn't sure if he would stick around at camp, but she was comforted to know he would always have a place there, and a sister whenever he needed. That would never change—not if she could help it.

A week after the burial shrouds were burned, Naomi knocked on the half-open door of Cabin Ten. She'd seen Mitchell, Lacy, and the rest of their siblings at the arts and crafts center, but Drew had been absent. Drew was absent a lot, now. Naomi knew she needed space, but she also wanted to make sure her friend was okay. After losing Silena and Ethan...

She had to make sure Drew would be okay.

"Hello?" Naomi called. "Drew? You in here?"

There was no answer, but Naomi saw Drew's favorite pair of sandals by the door, and her fancy designer sneakers. She doubted Drew would've left the cabin barefoot.

Naomi stepped into the cabin. For the first time Naomi could remember, it was a mess. The only bunks that were made were the empty ones.

Silena's was still unmade. There was an open, half-eaten box of chocolates from her dad. Her pictures were still tacked to the wall above her bed.

Naomi's fingers hovered over one of the polaroids. It was of Silena, Drew, and Naomi one winter, their hair and faces covered with sheet masks. Silena was grinning at the camera, holding it out to get them all in the frame.

Naomi closed her eyes and forced away the tears.

The bathroom door was cracked open. Naomi walked over, knocking lightly. When she got no answer, she pushed it open.

Drew stood at the bathroom counter. There was a pair of haircutting scissors on the counter, along with chunks of black hair. She'd chopped it at her shoulders, like she'd gone at it without even looking in the mirror.

Her eyes were on the counter. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of it.

"Drew?" Naomi asked, her voice gentle.

Drew's voice sounded hollow. "Silena... she was going to cut it." Her hand trembled as she grabbed the uneven ends of her hair. "She was supposed to cut it."

Naomi caught her as she collapsed, a sob clawing its way out of her throat. Drew hadn't cried since the battle, not that Naomi had seen, but now it came out like a tidal wave—all her anger and grief and confusion, so overwhelming it dragged Naomi under, too.

Drew gasped for breath between sobs. "I hate her!" she screamed. "I hate her!"

Naomi held her tight, letting her tremble as loss left her in ruins.

"She betrayed us," Drew sobbed. "She lied, and then she left! She left us! She left me!"

"I know," Naomi whispered, running her hand over Drew's hair. "I know."

"I miss her," Drew whimpered. "And I hate her." She was shaking like a leaf in the middle of a hurricane. "I hate myself for hating her."

Naomi knew there were no words to help her through this grief. Silena had been like a sister to her, but she had actually been Drew's sister. Her big sister, her role model, the girl she looked up to even if she'd never say it out loud. And she'd gone from Drew's hero to a traitor to dead, all in a matter of a few words.

Drew hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

Silena had redeemed herself in the end; she had died a hero. But that only did so much to erase the gray that colored her life in the aftermath of the revelation. For Drew, every interaction, every conversation, every memory she had of Silena was tainted by the knowledge of what she'd done for the Titans, voluntarily or not.

So Naomi just held her friend, and tried not to let herself break right with her.

On the last night of camp, they had the bead ceremony. The Hephaestus cabin had designed the bead for this year. It showed the Empire State Building, and etched in tiny Greek letters, spiraling around the image, were the names of all the heroes who had died defending Olympus. There were too many names, but Naomi was proud to wear the bead.

She put it on her camp necklace—four beads now. She felt like an old-timer. She thought about the first campfire she'd ever attended, back when she was thirteen. She'd been so little back then.

She didn't feel that little anymore.

"Never forget this summer!" Chiron told them. He had healed remarkably well, but he still trotted in front of the fire with a slight limp. "We have discovered bravery and friendship and courage this summer. We have upheld the honor of the camp."

He smiled at Percy, and everybody cheered.

"And now," Chiron said, "early to bed! Remember you must vacate your cabins by noon unless you've made arrangements to stay the year with us. The cleaning harpies will eat any stragglers, and I'd hate to end the summer on a sour note!"

The next morning, Naomi, Annabeth, and Percy stood at the top of Half-Blood Hill. They watched the buses and vans pull away, taking most of the campers back to the real world. A few old-timers would be staying behind, and a few of the newcomers, but now that the Titans were vanquished, it was once again only moderately dangerous for demigods out in the world.

"Goodbye," Rachel told them as she shouldered her bag. She looked pretty nervous, but she was keeping a promise to her father and attending Clarion Academy in New Hampshire. It would be next summer before they got their Oracle back.

"You'll do great." Annabeth hugged her.

Rachel bit her lip. "I hope you're right. I'm a little worried. What if somebody asks what's on the next math test and I start spouting a prophecy in the middle of geometry class? The Pythagorean theorem shall be problem two... Gods, that would be embarrassing."

Annabeth laughed.

"Well," Rachel said, "you three be good to each other." Of course, she looked at Percy when she said that, like she knew he was the biggest troublemaker out of all of them.

Before Percy could protest that, Rachel wished them well and ran down the hill to catch her ride.

Annabeth, thankfully, would be staying in New York. She'd got permission from her parents to attend a boarding school in the city so she could be close to Olympus and oversee the rebuilding efforts.

And with a bit of Mist-manipulation—courtesy of Chiron—Naomi had gotten accepted into the same boarding school (though she and Annabeth weren't allowed to be roommates, which was understandable, even if it sucked). She'd be learning the quadratic equation during the week and trying to help the Olympians and Hades get along on the weekends.

It was going to be an interesting school year, that was for sure.

"It's not fair that you two get to go to school together and I'm stuck at Goode without any of my friends," Percy complained, though he only sounded half-serious.

"Everton's an all-girls school," Annabeth reminded him. "And I'm sure you'll make new friends."

"Just make sure none of them are monsters in disguise," Naomi teased.

Percy rolled his eyes, but the smile was bright on his face.

The guard dragon Peleus curled contentedly around the pine tree underneath the Golden Fleece and began to snore, blowing steam with every breath.

"You guys been thinking about Rachel's prophecy?" Percy asked.

Annabeth frowned. "How'd you know?"

"Because I know you."

Annabeth bumped him with her shoulder. "Okay, so I have. Eight half-bloods shall answer the call. I wonder who they'll be. We're going to have so many new faces next summer."

"Yep," Percy agreed. "And all that stuff about the world falling to storm or fire."

"And the darkness falling," Naomi said quietly. "Can't forget about that happy little couplet."

Annabeth pursed her lips. "And foes at the Doors of Death. I don't know, but I don't like it. I thought... well, maybe we'd get some peace for a change."

"Wouldn't be Camp Half-Blood if it was peaceful," Percy said.

"I guess you're right..." Annabeth conceded.

"Maybe the prophecy won't happen for years," Naomi said, trying to be optimistic. "Maybe we'll get some peace after all."

"Could be a problem for another generation of demigods," Percy agreed. "Then we can kick back and enjoy."

Annabeth nodded, though she still seemed uneasy. Naomi couldn't blame her, but it was hard to feel too upset on a day like this, with the two people she loved the most at her side, knowing this wasn't really goodbye.

They had time, and lots of it.

"Race you to the road?" Percy said.

"Oh, you two are going down," Annabeth declared. She took off down Half-Blood Hill.

"Not fair!" Naomi shouted. "The short people should get the head-starts!"

Percy's and Annabeth's laughter followed her out of the camp borders and back into the real world. It was a scary place, full of monsters and evil.

But it was full of love, too.

And for now, that was all she needed.

Chapter 114: epilogue

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

JUNE 7, 1999

IN A SMALL TOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE COUNTRY, where honeysuckle grows without care and ivy covers the brick of every house it can find, a goddess walks.

She has never been here, nor has she even meant to come. It's a quaint little place that anyone else, god or mortal, would pass through without a second thought. But there is something here that draws her in, like a bee to a flower.

Or, rather, like a mouse into the den of a serpent.

It's a warm summer here—not too humid or too dry. Nearly every store on this downtown street has some sort of greenery or floral pieces decorating the fronts. Each one she passes blooms in an instant, brighter and taller in the presence of the goddess who breathes life into them.

The people she passes offer her smiles free of charge, and the goddess offers them gifts in return. The teenage girl who flashes her dimples will always know her worth; toddler who waves at her will never be afraid of the dark; the elderly couple who give near-identical smiles will die years from now within hours of each other, never having to live too long without their other half.

This small town is the sort of place families move to and plant roots that lasts generations; a place where everyone knows each other's name, where they work, what they like to order at the diner near the outskirts of town. The goddess has no roots, nor does she intend to plant any, but she thinks this would be as good a place as any to dig in.

She is no stranger to fate, so when she feels the strange urge to stop, she does so without question—even if the urge feels unfamiliar, murky, maybe dangerous.

She is no stranger to fate, but she is a stranger to the evil that stirs her in this moment.

Her feet stop in front of a flower shop, with glass for front walls and a hand-painted sign: Judy's Floral Arrangements. She thinks she hears a whisper, too faint for her to catch the words. She imagines it's the Fates, urging her forward, toward something new.

The goddess walks through the door.

It isn't busy inside. There are only four others in the shop—an older woman who must have been an employee or perhaps Judy herself, judging by her apron and the arrangement she was working on; a middle-aged woman browsing through some kind of catalogue with a toddler perched on her hip, half-asleep with his face buried against his mother's shoulder; and a man who must have been in his mid-twenties, with a pair of tortoise-shell glasses that look just a bit too big for his face.

There's another whisper, but this time, she understands it: Go to him.

She does.

She walks alongside a wall of carnations, touching a few of the more sickly-looking buds and watching them liven up under her fingertips. She strides slowly to the display the man is standing in front of. He looks confused, his glasses having slipped down his nose. She thinks he's handsome, his aura a strange but inviting mixture of light and dark—like he could wield a sword, but only in defense of another.

He reminds her of someone.

He's studying a readymade bouquet of red tulips, and the goddess can't help herself.

"Declaring your love for someone?" she asks.

The man jumps, clearly startled, though the goddess's voice is as gentle as a spring breeze. "Oh, um—no, no," he says, laughing nervously. "Definitely not. Why?"

She gestures to the bouquet. "Red tulips typically mean passion," she explains. "They're used in declarations of love."

"Oh," he says, his eyes widening. They're a soft, warm brown. She could look into them for hours if she were given the chance. "I'm glad you said something. That's—that's not what I want the flowers to say."

The goddess smiles softly in amusement. "What do you want them to say?"

"Um." He scratches the back of his neck. "I guess... 'congratulations'?" At her curious look, he explains, "My cousin just had a baby—a little boy. I was going to try to visit, but I'm not going to be able to make it for another month—I just got a huge project at work, and I'm new so I don't want to ask for time off when I don't really need it, and—" He cuts himself off, his cheeks growing pink. "I'm rambling. Sorry."

"Don't be," the goddess says. "Are you and your cousin close?"

"Yeah," he said. "We grew up together. She and her brother are more like my siblings, really. It was hard moving away, but I just needed a change, y'know? I still visit when I can, but our town—" He cleared his throat again. "Rambling again."

The goddess's smile grows. "Can I make a suggestion?"

"Please," he says.

In a moment of unexpected boldness, she takes him by the arm, guiding him to the other side of the store. She studies the display bouquets in front of her, pensive. She does not notice the man watching her, his eyes soft and starstruck.

"You should send her a bouquet of daylilies," she decides after a moment of careful consideration. "With baby's breath. The daylilies symbolize motherhood, and the baby's breath—well, it's in the name, isn't it?"

"I guess the baby's breath should have been obvious," he says with a chuckle. "You really know your flowers."

"It's a hobby of mine," the goddess says with a secretive smile. "I'm a sucker for flower language."

He smiles, as if he'd be happy to listen to her explain the symbolism and history behind every kind of flower for hours on end. "Thank you," he says sincerely. "I—do you live around here?"

She tilts her head at the question, another smile tugging at her lips. "Why?"

"It's just—it's a small town," he says, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. "And I've never seen you around before. At least, I'm pretty sure I've never seen you before—I doubt I'd forget a face like yours."

The goddess's cheeks grow warm. "I'm... just passing through."

"Oh," he says, and she can hear a hint of disappointment in his voice. "I'm guessing it'd be futile to ask you out for coffee after this, then?"

The goddess is quiet for a moment. She hears another whisper.

Say yes.

The summer has just begun—what's the harm?

She returns her gaze to the man. "I'm not in any rush," she says, and silently delights in the way his expression brightens. She holds out her hand. "I'm... Cora. Cora Green."

He takes her hand, shaking it. "Ben Sakura."

Notes:

and that's the end of book one! i hope you all enjoyed naomi's story, because i loved writing it! i'll get to posting book two on here soon, but if you don't want to wait, it's up on my wattpad ('This Cold Year' by -tayloryvonne).