Despite the head start Damasen had given me, it wasn't long before I sensed more ill-intentioned beings hot on my trail. Thankfully, I'd be bypassing Akhlys, so the likelihood of running into Nyx entirely depended on not getting caught or wandering into her territory. If she was searching for me too, well, that was an issue for future Andy.
The one good thing I had going for me at the moment was my immortality. To reach the Doors of Death, mortals had to cross through the Mansion of Night. Luke and Will were exceptions to the rule thanks to Tartarus's meddling, but I had already fought my way out of that place once before. I wasn't keen on doing that a second time. If I could find somewhere to traverse the Acheron, I'd be one step closer to closing the Doors for good.
Lady Tyche must've been in a good mood today, or maybe she thought it was finally time for things to go my way. I reached the bank of the Acheron with little to report other than a short skirmish with some bloodthirsty harpies. My sole complaint was that they somehow reeked worse than the permanent rotten egg smell that hung in the air, making my eyes water and leaving me wondering if yanking out my olfactory receptors was worth it.
Now came the problem of crossing the river.
Unlike the Cocytus, the voices of the Acheron worked by actively drowning those within its waters. The cursed spirits in the river would take on corporeal forms and drag the poor sod who touched the water to the bottom, condemning their soul to join in the vicious cycle for all eternity.
Murderer! wailed the souls of the Acheron.
Join us, another voice whispered. You are no better than we are.
The river changed course through my mind – showing me Atalanta, who had been slain on Mount Tamalpais because she'd come to rescue me from the Titans.
I saw Cleo, dying in the forests of Camp Half-Blood because she had tried to buy me time during the Battle of the Labyrinth.
James and Lucy…who had died to prevent Kronos from toppling Olympus.
Worst of all, the river revealed Luke, blood staining my hands as I scrambled to keep pressure on his injury. I watched as his grip went slack, lying limply on the ground as he exhaled one last time.
You were supposed to prevent this, the river told me. You should have seen a better way.
You murdered him! Jump in and share his punishment!
Small Bob nipped my ear. The pain was enough to dislodge the river's thoughts from my head. I hadn't realized how close I'd gotten to the riverbank, the water mere inches away.
"Good kitty," I said.
Was it too late to ask Charon for one of his boats?
Reaching out for the river, I attempted to part the waters like the Red Sea.
The souls didn't appreciate the disruption. They spewed their vitriol with renewed vigor and thrashed about, generating a more turbulent stream. I felt Damasen's healing coming undone as I pushed my arms further apart. The water sluggishly separated, taking its sweet time to clear a precariously narrow pathway.
I forced the opening a few inches wider, ignoring how my arms trembled like they once again bore the weight of the sky. Once I felt confident I could get through without touching the caustic waters, I slipped through as quickly as I could.
I unceremoniously dropped to the ground upon my arrival at the other bank. Small Bob took the opportunity to curl into a ball on my stomach.
The river sloshed together as it rejoined, generating another round of nasty commentary. Despite the newfound ache in my arms, I summoned enough strength to flip the bird at the Acheron.
Shockingly, that did wonders to quiet the vengeful spirits.
After a swig of nectar and roughly ten minutes of playing dead, I gathered my wits about me and got back to my feet. At the next possible opportunity, I'm going to throw myself in the nearest large body of water for the sheer bliss of weightlessness.
I reached the crest of the next hill and stifled a groan. Before me stretched a valley big enough to fit the San Francisco Bay. The booming noise came from the entire landscape as if thunder echoed beneath the ground. Under poisonous clouds, the rolling terrain glistened purple with dark red and blue scar lines.
Last time around, I didn't appreciate this sight for what it was – the heart of Tartarus.
The center of the valley was covered with a fine black fuzz of peppery dots. I was far enough away that it took me a moment to realize that I was looking at an army – thousands, maybe tens of thousands of monsters, gathered around a central pinpoint of darkness.
My heart skipped a few beats. There hadn't been this many monsters before. Things were going to be so much riskier this time.
I made it as close as thirty yards from the nearest monsters before hiding behind a rocky formation.
"Small Bob," I started, setting him onto the ground, "I'm going to need you to become Big Bob for the foreseeable future. Got it?"
Mrow!
His limbs stretched and his teeth elongated until he reached his true form. He grumbled lowly, sensing the tens of thousands of malevolent spirits wanting to tear us apart.
I slipped into my dracaena form, shuddering in disgust as the change took hold. Scales erupting from your legs were itchy! My jaw protested the elongated fangs. I fashioned drakon-leather gauntlets using Damasen's supplies to hide my bracelet rather than concealing it behind the Mist. I summoned my barbed wire-tipped spear and took a deep breath.
One last push.
We started for the Doors.
A few feet away, a group of empousai tore into the carcass of a gryphon while other gryphons flew around them, squawking in outrage. A six-armed Earthborn and a Laistrygonian giant pummeled each other with rocks, though I wasn't sure if they were fighting or just messing around. A dark wisp of smoke – an eidolon – seeped into a Cyclops, made the monster hit himself in the face, then drifted off to possess another victim.
A stone's throw away, a guy in a cowboy outfit was cracking a whip at some fire-breathing horses. The wrangle wore a Stetson hat on his greasy hair, an extra-large set of jeans, and a pair of black leather boots. From the side, he might have passed for human – until he turned, and I saw that his upper body was split into three different chests, each one dressed in a different-color Western shirt.
I'd never met him before, but I knew all about Geryon. Percy had fought and killed him two years ago by piercing his three hearts with a single arrow. A part of me was tempted to recreate the scene right here and now, but alas, it wasn't meant to be.
I slowly and carefully slithered my way through the crowd, pausing from time to time for idle chatter. Making a mad dash to the chains on either side of the Doors was the fastest way to certain death.
The purplish ground was slippery and constantly pulsing. It looked flat from a distance, but up close it was made of folds and ridges that got harder to navigate, especially now that I had traded my legs for a serpent's tail. Gnarled lumps of red arteries and blue veins gave me some handholds when I had to climb, but the going was slow.
Packs of hellhounds prowled the plains, baying and snarling and attacking any monster that dropped its guard. Arai wheeled overhead on leathery wings, making ghastly dark silhouettes in the poisonous clouds.
My tail tingled anytime I slithered over a blood vessel. I could sense the water from one of the five rivers, pulsing in perfect time with the beating glow surrounding the Doors.
This was probably the most dangerous circulatory system in the universe.
Ahead of me, jagged streaks of darkness tore through the air – like lightning, except pure black. Small Bob arched his back and hissed.
Eventually, I got close enough that I could see the art deco designs of the Doors of Death. The inverted color scheme of silver and black felt like a slap in the face. I hated these Doors and everything they stood for.
Thankfully, due to the sheer number of monsters trying to squeeze their way into the Doors and back to the mortal world, there were a few gaggles of monsters by the chains. I wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb as I neared either side of the Doors.
Simply slicing through these chains wouldn't be feasible on my own. Unlike the other gods, I hadn't learned how to split my consciousness to have multiple copies of myself. And I wasn't going to risk losing Small Bob in the process, either.
Having foreseen this, I reached for the bombs in my bag. I'd developed these bad boys under Hephaestus's supervision – imbued with Greek fire and blessed metal shrapnel, they were strong enough to tear apart even the most celestial of binds. Stygian iron chains would be no match for these weapons of mass destruction.
I made quick work of setting the first device near the center of the chain, ensuring a clean break once it detonated. Of course, there was enough firepower to take out anything in a twenty-foot radius, so the preciseness of the cleavage was the least of my concerns.
I repeated the process of slithering, talking, and approaching the other set of chains. True to form, the detonator was a charm in the shape of a cartoon bomb. One swift yank and BOOM!
Before I could strike the chains, a high-pitched whine pierced my ears, like the sound of an incoming rocket. I had enough time to brace myself as an explosion rocked the hillside – however, not the one I intended. A wave of heat knocked me backward. Dark shrapnel ripped through the two Titans guarding the doors – Krios and Hyperion – shredding them as easily as wood in a chipper.
STINKING PIT. A hollow voice rolled across the plains, shaking the warm fleshy ground.
My insides turned to jelly. My scars throbbed at the memories associated with that voice. I forced myself to remain still and focused on maintaining my disguise.
TITANS, said the voice disdainfully. LESSER BEINGS. IMPERFECT AND WEAK.
In front of the Doors of Death, the air darkened and solidified. The being who appeared was so massive and radiating such pure malevolence that I wanted to crawl away and hide.
Instead, I forced myself to watch as Tartarus adopted his physical form once more. He wore black iron boots, each one as large as a coffin. His legs were covered in dark greaves; his flesh all thick purple muscle, like the ground. His armored skirt was made from thousands of blackened, twisted bones, woven together like chain links and clasped in place by a belt of interlocking monstrous arms.
On the surface of his breastplate, murky faces appeared and submerged – giants, Cyclopes, gorgons, and drakons – all pressing against the armor as if trying to get out.
His arms were bare – muscular, purple, and glistening – his hands as large as crane scoops.
His head was as awful as I remembered: a helmet of twisted rock and metal with no particular shape – just jagged spikes and pulsing patches of magma. His entire face was a whirlpool – an inward spiral of darkness. I watched as the last particles of Titan essence from Hyperion and Krios were vacuumed into Tartarus's maw.
A chilling sensation ran down my spine.
He could've done that to me whenever he wished.
Torturing and hunting me down was a game to him.
The feeling of Small Bob's fur under my hand was the only thing keeping me grounded to reality.
I kept my mouth shut.
Imagine the horror I felt when a purple vortex swirled around Tartarus, sweeping the pit into pure darkness. Monsters and demons alike screamed in agony. Even Small Bob collapsed to the ground and writhed, yelping in pain.
Not wanting to seem out of place, I, too, screamed, twitching my muscles as if I were in excruciating pain. To be fair, it wasn't hard to fake it.
"This form is only a small manifestation of my power," Tartarus said, his voice echoing around his heart. "But it is enough to deal with you, little goddess. I know you are here. You have come too far and evaded me for far too long. This little game of ours ends now."
Tartarus spread his arm. The vortex of darkness died out. The dim glow of the perpetual red light revealed that all the monsters, except for one, had vanished.
Small Bob had returned to his kitten form, and for a few tense moments, I couldn't tell if he was alive or not. Then he inhaled sharply, and I quickly picked him off the ground and tucked him into my bag. Hopefully, he'd forgive me for shoving him into a cramped space if it meant getting him out of here in one piece.
"Be honored, little goddess," said the god of the pit. "Even the Olympians were never worthy of my personal attention. But you will be destroyed by Tartarus himself, once and for all!"
I finally found my voice. "You'll have to catch me first!"
I barely felt the surge of my powers returning to me amid the adrenaline pouring through my veins. It seemed that Tartarus wanted to draw this out. If he made it seem like we were on level footing, it would make his victory all the sweeter when he consumed my essence.
The first thing I did was find a rock that fit the size of the button on the Doors. Shadows transported the rock and held it flush against the button, illuminating its circumference in a subtle silver glow. I clenched my fist, and thick vines wrapped around the rock, keeping it in place. I added a second and third layer of thorny vines and the poisonous leaves of a giant hogweed.
"I'm going to eviscerate you."
"You already tried that once. News flash, all my internal organs are still internal." I inched my way closer to the doors.
Tartarus clenched his hands and squeezed.
I collapsed to my knees. It felt as if my heart was going to be ripped out of my chest. I vaguely made out the golden glow surrounding my body. The light flickered as Tartarus inhaled deeply, sending a shudder down my spine.
Breathe, Andy, I reminded myself. You have a promise to keep.
I grabbed my drakon bone sword and stabbed it into the nearest artery. That was enough to disrupt Tartarus's attack. I channeled the geyser into smacking him straight in the face. Hopefully, he'd gotten a face full of Acheron.
In the meantime, I summoned skeletons from the Underworld, tapping into Hades' fifty-eighth diamond battalion. These warriors specialized in melee combat, and best of all, they always knit themselves back together again. Nothing short of tearing their essence apart would stop them.
The army of skeletons charged. They scrambled up Tartarus's thigh and stabbed as they went. Tartarus stomped and howled, no longer enamored with regaining a physical form. Meanwhile, some of the other skeletons linked together to form something that vaguely resembled Voltron and thrust their spears into the primordial's side, right below his breastplate.
Tartarus roared. He swatted at the skeletons, but they backed out of reach or used his outstretched arm as a bridge toward his torso.
My bow materialized in my hands, and I shot some trick arrows in rapid succession. Electrical, poisoned-tipped, and snare arrows didn't harm Tartarus, but they did slow him down.
I reached for the power that rested in my core and sped myself up as much as I could manage. As I ran for the Doors, I detonated the bombs, taking great pleasure in seeing the shrapnel explode like the world's deadliest fireworks. Pieces of sharpened Celestial bronze and Imperial gold hit their marks if Tartarus's outraged cries were any indication.
The Doors shuddered, then opened with a pleasant Ding!
I almost made it, too.
The next thing I know, I'm flat on my back desperately trying to catch my breath. Fingers the size of Italian sausages wrapped around my throat, threatening to snap my windpipe. Though I didn't need to breathe, snapping my neck was more than enough to force me into a regeneration bubble and be subjected to Tartarus's whims for all eternity.
"No. More. Games." Tartarus's breath reeked of sulfur and magma. His vortex mouth was dangerously close to swallowing my face whole. "I win, little goddess. ME! You and the gods you serve are NOTHING compared to the sheer power I possess!"
Black spots danced in my vision. My pulse roared in my ears.
"I will take great pleasure in crushing you once and for all!"
I held my hands out in front of me and poured out everything I had to give.
I was already dead anyway.
Greek fire streamed from my palms, bathing the world in an electric green light. Tartarus scoffed. This probably felt like a tickle to him.
"YIELD."
"Ne…ver."
My eyes fluttered shut, and I embraced the darkness with open arms.
That lasted for all of two seconds as my back slammed into the gravel, forcing what little air I had in my lungs out in a violent coughing fit. The air smelled of pine and ginger. Out of the corner of my eye, I made out a blur of red and green.
As my vision focused, I realized that Damasen had arrived, riding on the back of the Maeonian drakon.
"Da…ma…" I croaked.
The giant inclined his head. "Andy Collins, I took your advice. I chose myself a new fate."
"WHAT IS THIS?" Tartarus hissed. "Why have you come, my disgraced son?"
Damasen glanced at me, a message clear in his eyes: Go. Now.
He turned toward his father. The Maeonian drakon stamped its feet and snarled.
"Father, you wished for a more worthy opponent?" Damasen asked calmly. "I am one of the giants you are so proud of. You wished me to be more warlike? Perhaps I will start by destroying you!"
Damasen leveled his lance and charged.
I made a mad dash for the Doors for what I hoped to be the last time.
The entire realm fought me. Spires of stone and raised blood vessels threatened to send me sprawling to the ground. Winged monsters descended from the sky in droves, carving my flesh from my bones.
I didn't stop.
I strengthened my reinforcements of the plants that would keep the button pressed for the next twelve minutes. As a last minute decision, I wove in a layer of shadows, the kind that would attack anyone they didn't recognize. It would shred anything or anyone who threatened my plants.
The gravel gave way to the tile of the elevator interior. The back wall broke my fall.
"DAMASEN!" I shouted, ignoring the iron taste filling my mouth.
"GO!" he shouted back.
The panels started to close.
No.
NO!
I would not leave him here.
I lodged my foot between the panels and opened a massive shadow portal underneath Damasen.
The Maeonian drakon continued its assault against Tartarus, spewing its poison and trampling over the primordial's feet.
My vision filled with red, and I pulled my foot away, allowing the panels to slide shut.
"Girl, what-?"
"Hold the Doors closed!"
I shoved my entire body against the right door, pressing toward the center. Damasen shooed me away and single-handedly kept the Doors shut as if the limbo between life and death wasn't right on the other side.
Damasen tilted his head to the side and made a weird face. "This is the music mortals listen to?"
"If you like piña coladas and getting caught in the rain-"
"Not all of us," I said, resting my head against the cool metal walls. "I'll introduce you the wonders of YouTube when we get to the mortal world. You strike me as someone who'd love country or classical music."
"You are speaking in riddles."
That pulled a full belly-aching laugh from me. I finally had my little hysterical fit, tears streaming down my face as the full terror of what I experienced came crashing down. I allowed myself two minutes of hysterics.
Two minutes later, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
Damasen watched me like a hawk as I summoned my bag and reached for my baggie of ambrosia squares. I ate a square, took a swig of nectar, and worked on bandaging the rest of my wounds. As for Small Bob, a quick check found that he was still sound asleep, comfortably tucked into the blankets I always carried with me.
"I am glad that you are alive," Damasen said.
"As am I. But I'm far happier that you made it out with me."
"My parents might beg to differ."
"Let them beg. You deserve to be happy."
Damasen chuckled. "You know, you're not so bad for a goddess, Andy."
"Back at you, big guy."
"Danger awaits us on the other side of this elevator. I can sense one of my siblings."
I shut my eyes, taking full advantage of this respite. "It's Clytius. We're heading for the House of Hades in Epirus."
"Ugh, Clytius. Outside of those made to oppose the Big Three, he is the worst. No taste for the simple things in life."
With that, we fell into comfortable silence. In four minutes, we'd be topside. Yes, there'd be Clytius and Pasiphaë to deal with, but Hazel, Leo, and Hecate had it covered. If I got to stab Clytius, well, that was an added bonus.
The elevator slowed down.
I hefted my drakon bone sword.
"It's showtime!"
"You are a strange human being."
The fight at the House of Hades went as written in the book with the addition of Percy and Annabeth participating in taking down Clytius. Damasen and I chased after Pasiphaë, but she chose to hide in the Labyrinth rather than face us.
It wasn't until Hecate said, "The House of Hades is unstable. Leave now. We shall meet again," that I fully zoned into the moment. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.
"ANDY!"
You know, I should've expected the dog pile.
Eight squirming teenagers fought over being the first to hug me. I got kneed in the ribs and elbowed in the face, but it was all worth it to see their smiles.
"So, who's your friend?" Leo asked, gesturing with his thumb at Damasen, who'd been staring at this whole interaction with wide eyes.
An entire section of tiles peeled loose from the ceiling.
"Introductions will have to wait," I said. "Everyone, grab hands! That includes you, Damasen!"
The giant's hand engulfed my arm, and Piper eyed him warily, but we could unpack that later. For now, I pictured the Greek countryside above us and dissolved into the shadows.
We appeared on the hillside overlooking the River Acheron. The sun was just rising, making the water glitter and the clouds glow orange. The cool morning air smelled of honeysuckle. The sunlight in the trees was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. If I could, I would live in this moment forever – free of monsters and gods and evil spirits.
"Your memories do you credit," Damasen said, eyes glued to the sky. "It is just as beautiful as I remember."
"Small Bob!"
"Small Bob?" Nico questioned.
I reached into my bag and produced the sleepy kitten. Upon being exposed to the sunlight, he yawned and opened his eyes. He leaped from my lap into the grass and stretched before promptly plopping down like a loaf of bread and falling back asleep.
"Small Bob," I confirmed. "He's the saber tooth tiger kitten I rescued from Tartarus."
"And you are Damasen?" Annabeth asked, looking up at the giant.
"I am."
"Where does your allegiance lie?"
"With Andy," he said without a moment of hesitation. "I am forever indebted to her."
"Aw. C'mere, big guy!"
I hugged Damasen's leg. He patted the top of my head.
"Enough about me, though. What have you guys been up to?"
My friends stared at me as if I'd grown a second head.
Frank broke the tension by explaining what had happened with the ghostly legion and the army of monsters – how Nico had used the scepter of Diocletian, and how bravely Jason, Piper, Percy, and Annabeth had fought.
"Frank is being modest," Jason said. "He controlled the entire legion. You should've seen him. Oh, by the way…" Jason glanced at me. "I resigned my office, gave Frank a field promotion to praetor. Just thought you'd like to know."
I smiled. Frank blushed. "Congrats, kiddo!"
"Praetor?" Hazel stared at Frank.
He shrugged uncomfortably. "Well…yeah. I know it seems weird."
Hazel kissed him. "It seems perfect."
Leo clapped Frank on the shoulder. "Way to go, Zhang. Now you can order Octavian to fall on his sword."
"Tempting," Frank agreed. He turned apprehensively back to Damasen and me. "But you guys…Tartarus has to be the real story. What happened down there? How did you…?"
Nico winced.
Damasen looked away.
"I'll give you the full story one day. But not today, okay? There's lots of things that happened that I would rather forget."
"That's fair," Annabeth said. "Right now…" She gazed toward the river and faltered. "Uh, I think our ride is coming."
I turned. The Argo II veered to port, its aerial oars in motion, its sails catching the wind.
Festus's head glinted in the sunlight. Even from a distance, I could hear him creaking and clanking in jubilation.
"That's my boy!" Leo yelled.
As the ship got closer, I saw Coach Hedge standing at the prow.
"About time!" the coach yelled down. He was doing his best to scowl, but his eyes gleamed as if maybe, just maybe, he was happy to see them. "What took you so long, cupcakes! You kept your visitor waiting!"
"Visitor?" Hazel murmured.
At the rail next to Coach Hedge, a dark-haired girl appeared wearing a purple cloak, her face so covered with soot and bloody scratches that I almost didn't recognize her.
Reyna had arrived.