xoxo, trin

hey ! i'm trinity, i started out as a writer on wattpad, but i decided to start branching out a little and cross-post my stories here on tumblr. this decision mostly comes from the fact that wattpad deleted my old account after i'd already garnered like 100k reads on one of my stories. which was, uh, devastating to say the least

anyways, it took a while, but i'm finally back to posting after a ( very long ) break ! i'm glad to be back, as i really do enjoy writing. i will say, however, that i am in college, so updates can be a little irregular. i work two jobs in addition to being a full-time student, so once all of my backups dry up... it's gonna get a little iffy

i have so many ideas for stories and so many thoughts in my head, so i'm going to try to find all of the time i can

that said, here's the main / most important links. i figure once more and more chapters are posted here, it's going to get a little crowded. i'm a little new to posting on tumblr, so there's going to have to be a little trial and error, but i'm sure it'll be fine

— main masterlist

— tip jar

— carrd ( has my ao3, wattpad, and everything else you may need to know ! )

if you have any questions or want to make any comments, feel free to send an ask ! i'll figure out how they work and all lmao

also ! once i start up in between the tides again, feel free to send in any plot requests you might have. in fact, it might be beneficial if there were any ideas you wanted to see, because it might give me inspiration to write more than a few paragraphs lol

i think that's all for now ! if i'm forgetting anything big, i'll come back and add it

anyways, i love you guys ! eat and sleep well, and drink lots of water !

0.4 And What If One of the Gods Does Wreck Me Out on the Wine-Dark Sea? I Have a Heart That Is Inured To Suffering and I Shall Steel It To Endure That, Too

Allie

“Shit, Babe, that looks terrible,” I gasped, as I made my way back over to Luke. The talon slashes on his arm dripped so much blood, it was almost difficult to make out the skin underneath it. 

Panic prickled at the mortal spot on my back as I reached him. His hands were steady as they caught my own trembling ones, but I couldn’t be sure how much of it was him putting up a front for my sake.  

“It’s not as bad as it looks, Angel,” he told me, ducking just a little bit to meet my eyes. “Just a little scratch.” 

My eyes widened. “A little— Babe, are you fucking joking? At a time like this?” 

The corners of his mouth curled, like he was trying to hold back a smile, and I had to hold myself back from attempting to knock some sense into him. “You’re so hot when you yell at me, y’know that?” 

A surge of emotion that I couldn’t quite determine was anger, concern, or a little of both bloomed in my chest. “Oh, you think you’re soooo clever and charming, trying to weasel your way out of this,” I started, but the ire in my voice was cancelled out by how terribly my hands were shaking. “You’re out of your mind, trying to butter me up while you’re literally bleeding out.” 

“Is it buttering you up if it’s true?” Luke gave me that troublemaker smile he’d inherited from his father and it nearly made me melt— would have if I hadn’t been so worried out of my mind. 

“For the love of all the gods, can you please be serious? This looks bad! We have no ambrosia or nectar, the only thing we have around that even minorly heals is a damn river of liquid fire—”

Luke opened his mouth— likely to do something that would set me off, like jokingly singing the chorus to Ring of Fire by Johnny Cash, which would have really made me do something drastic— but was cut off by a very rude Hellhound, snarling at my back and preparing to take us both out. 

“Oh, fuck off! I’m trying to be pissed off at my boyfriend in peace,” I cried, twisting out of Luke’s grip and swinging Shaker with a little bit more force than intended. The Hellhound disintegrated with a pitiful whimper that would tug at my heartstrings later, when I had the capacity to think far more clearly than I was. 

I rounded back on Luke, ready to give him a piece of my mind, but froze at the lovesick grin residing on his face. 

“I like it when you call me that,” he mumbled, voice barely loud enough to hear. 

I raised an eyebrow, dragging him behind a cluster of rocks to hide us from any monsters that may have been in close enough range to see, hear, or smell us. “Are… you not? Did we break up somewhere between drinking fire and now, and you just never told me?” 

“No,” he said simply, “I just like to hear you say it.” 

The dumb grin on his face made every ounce of anger that had been flowing through my veins vanish in seconds. I deflated, trying not to allow too big of a grin to overtake my face. Damn Luke and his irritating, yet endearing way of making my heart melt. 

“You…” I sighed. “C’mere, Babe.” 

I stripped my top off, thankful I’d chosen to change into a sports bra the afternoon everything went to shit. The Prada top was torn to shreds and pieces of it crumbled in my hands when I pulled too hard, but it would have to do. Luke understood my intent almost immediately, holding out his arm for me to wrap around the jagged gashes. 

It was hard to ignore, but I tried to not think about how the empousa’s attack mirrored my own scratches down his other arm. Mine had drawn blood, too, albeit much less. They had made me feel guilty, but I knew Luke didn’t particularly care. If I’d said anything about it, he probably would have told me something along the lines of, “Oh, don’t worry, Angel, you know you’ve done worse to my back before,” and that would have probably made me smack his arm, but I also knew that I’d done it unintentionally. If it was to save his life— to make sure he didn’t fall alone— I would have done it all again. 

I wrapped the pieces around the injury and winced when blood sprouted against the fabric almost immediately. “Drink some more fire,” I ordered him. “And then… We’ll figure out what to do from there.” 

Luke’s expression twisted. “Do I have to?” he asked. “I feel like I’m gonna yak if I swallow any more of that shit.” 

I grimaced. “A little bit,” I said gently. “Just enough to try and slow the bleeding. The injury is bad enough, I don’t know what I would do if you passed out from blood loss.” 

The answer seemed to pass through Luke in waves of understanding. He nodded once stiffly and moved over to the Fire River, allowing me to cup my hands in the flames and help him drink. He gagged and sputtered a few times, but managed to keep the fire down. 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to go back to that Indian place by your apartment, Angel,” he muttered. “Or eat anything spicy ever again in general.” 

I couldn’t help the laugh that swelled in my chest. “How tragic that’s going to be.” I paused. “So… where now?” 

Luke peered over my shoulder at the cloud of darkness in the distance. It was almost certainly where we needed to go, but the idea of heading blindly in seemed idiotic at best and torturously deadly at worst. We had no idea what monsters would be waiting for us there, or if we’d even be able to see what was coming. Visibility was almost certain to be terrible. Danger awaited around every corner no matter what in Tartarus, and though I usually didn’t mind jumping into situations blindly, this was a little too literal for my tastes. 

Luke sighed. “Do we have much of a choice?” 

I grimaced. “I don’t know. I guess not.” I twisted my rings around my fingers, grateful I still had them. “Although…” 

Luke perked up. “Although what?” 

I gazed off into the distance until my eyes caught sight of the ocean-like body of water I’d seen from above entered my line of sight. It was far away, at least an hour of a walk if we weren’t stopped, but it was something. 

“I know the likelihood of there being water in Tartarus is slim-to-none,” I began, “but that ocean-thing we saw is in that direction. And even if it isn’t actual water and is just some… I don’t know, Torture-Demigods Water or something like that, I might still be able to control it. We might be able to get a little bit of rest before we try to brave… whatever is in that cloud.” 

Luke thought about that for a moment before shrugging. “Good an idea as any, I suppose. I definitely don’t have anything better.” He paused. “My leg’s feeling better. Think I should use the super speed to get us there faster?” 

I shook my head. “Definitely not,” I said. “You need to keep your strength up as much as possible, especially if we might need it when we’re ready to keep going. And who knows, if that tear isn’t fully healed, you might make it worse trying to run. We’ll… walk.” 

*** 

The walk was much easier said than done. 

It was slow-going due to how often we had to duck behind rocks and other natural barriers to avoid unnecessary confrontations. The heat and humidity rivaled the Southern summers I’d had to brave while filming some of my earlier Marvel movies and The Walking Dead. I’d taken to continuously re-twisting my hair with the pen in my pocket because it kept falling and sticking to the back of my neck. For a moment, I was beginning to think we’d never make it. 

The sound of water hitting a shore cut through my ire and despair. 

It almost made me sick, how the sound brought me an immediate sense of comfort. It reminded me of the ocean, of the Atlantean Court, of home. I had to swallow hard to keep my tears at bay. 

The waves glittered against the black glass-sand beach. It felt unnaturally calm. 

“Is… Is it water?” Luke finally asked, when I’d gone silent. 

I couldn’t find my voice. I could only shrug as I stepped toward the rolling waves and tugged. 

The water… was certainly not water. I couldn’t be sure what it was, but as the nearest wave responded to my will, I could tell that it was not the ocean that it looked like. Even though I wasn’t touching it, I could tell the viscosity wasn’t the same. It was almost like an oil, silky and a bit thicker than water. And the color was off. The Iliad and the Odyssey had famously called the ocean “wine-dark” but this liquid seemed to be far closer to a modern red than the ocean. I hated to think about it, but the closest comparison I could get to what this ocean felt like was blood. 

I remembered Luke was still waiting on a response. “No,” I was finally able to answer him. “No, it’s definitely not water.” 

“But you can control it?” he asked, then watched as I manipulated a wave into a circle and then let it fall back into its pattern. “Well, that’s a plus, right?” 

I cleared my throat, deciding not to tell him about my suspicions as to what the liquid might be. “Yeah. It’s not too difficult, so at least if we get ambushed by a smaller group, we might not be too out-numbered.” I gave a little half-shrug. “But, I mean, I was able to control the River Lethe to help create Bob the Titan, so what does that mean, really?” 

Luke nodded slowly, but seemed to sense that there was something I was feeling apprehensive about. “Everything alright, Angel?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I answered. “Yeah, just a little tired. And homesick, probably.”

He didn’t reply verbally, simply pulled me back to his chest and let me bury my face in his shoulder. I felt his hand come up to the back of my head and pull out the pen holding my hair up. He ran his hand over my loose curls for a minute and then shifted, taking my hair in three strands and braiding it from behind, taking care to gently comb through the knots whenever he came across them. When he reached the end, he pulled a black hair tie off of his wrist and tied it off. 

I pulled back and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had that hair tie on your wrist this entire and you let me tie my hair back with a pen?” 

Luke snorted. “I kind of forgot I had it on me, to be honest,” he said. “But I always have a hair tie on my wrist, in case you need it.” 

The nonchalant way he said it had me burying my face into his shoulder once more. 

I couldn’t be sure how long we stayed like that, letting the ocean waves hit the shore and pretending we were anywhere but where we were. 

A deep rumble from somewhere behind me took me straight out of the illusion. 

Luke whirled us around immediately, gearing up for another fight. Nothing appeared. 

“You heard that, too, right?” he asked, his hand around the pommel of Riptide. “I’m not just losing my mind from being down here too long?” 

I shook my head, eyes scanning the area. “No… No, I heard it, too.” 

The rolling waves continued to hit the short unperturbed. 

“Is it just me, or does it feel like we’re in the middle of a cheesy horror movie scene?” I asked, half-joking, half-dead serious. 

“Now who’s joking in a serious situation?” Luke shot back, though the grin on his face told me he understood the humor in my comment. 

I scoffed. “Oh, please, we don’t even know this is a serious situation,” I replied. “For all we know, we are slowly losing our minds and there’s not even a body of water in front of us.” 

The tension in Luke’s shoulders never eased, and he was still continuously scanning the water and general surrounding area for what might have caused the noise, but nothing popped out. 

A silence settled over us. 

Without realizing it, I’d begun to creep toward the shore. The closer I got, the more I could understand about it. Something in me knew that only two feet in from the shore— where the waves crested, flattened, and then receded— was a drop off so deep, I couldn’t even predict how deep it went. There were certainly things just below the surface, but I couldn’t tell exactly what. 

I kept going until the liquid washed over my shoes. It fell off of my water-resistant skin just like regular water, but it wasn’t cold like the ocean. Just like nearly everything else in Tartarus, the temperature was almost uncomfortably hot. I reached down to touch it, watching the oil-like water replace itself as my fingers ran through it. 

Luke’s voice appeared behind me, much closer than I expected. “Angel—” 

It happened so fast, I didn’t have time to react. 

I had to bite back a scream when a large hand shot out from the dark oil-like water and closed around my wrist. Luke’s grip around my waist was the only thing that kept me from being pulled under, but it hardly put us in a better position. Within seconds, a congregation of cyclopes emerged, obviously having gone through the (what I assumed was) grueling effort of being re-formed and ready to give us their resulting anger and frustration. 

Luke pulled me until we were away from the water and on shore. With no time to think of another plan, I did the only thing I thought could help: I reached for the water and willed it to spiral around the two of us as fast as I could make it go. Not quite a hurricane, but fast enough to keep the cyclopes out of eating range for the time being. 

One tried its luck at punching through. The others learned not to do the same when the first one’s arm was ripped off from the force. 

“Okay,” I muttered, hoping it was loud enough for Luke to hear at my back, above the roaring of the circle of water around us. “Okay, yeah, great. This is great. Perfect, even.” 

Luke let out a startled sort of laugh from behind me. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he replied, and I could detect the underlying panic in his voice. “I’ve never felt better!” 

“I wonder if these are the cyclopes who attacked New Rome,” I pondered, despite the situation. “There’s enough of them to be… from that group.” I paused. “You know, this fucking sucks. It’s like re-run central in here. Are we so unlucky that all of our old enemies got re-formed at the same time? This is ridiculous! I mean, what’s next? I swear to the gods, if I see the damn Minotaur show up again—” 

“Angel, less jinxing us, more figuring out how the hell we’re going to get out of this situation before you pass out from exhaustion.” 

I hated to admit it, but Luke had a point. A great point, even. I had to remember that I wasn’t dealing with regular ocean water, which I could have controlled with ease. That was… something else. Something that took a little more concentration and a lot more energy. 

“So… Do you have an idea?” I asked. “Because, I’ve gotta be honest, I’ve got nothing. I’m exhausted and fresh out of all of the good ones.” 

I couldn’t see his face, but I had a feeling Luke was grimacing behind me. “Think I’m in the same boat with you, Angel.” 

If ever there was a time for a desperation plan, that was it. And as good at thinking of plans on the spot as I typically was, nothing came to mind. Truthfully, the only thing I could even think to suggest was shooting out spikes of water out until I passed out and hopefully took out enough for Luke to have a chance at taking the rest out, but I had a feeling Luke would veto that idea. 

Then a shadow fell across me. A deep war cry bellowed from somewhere above, echoing across the ocean and louder than the crashing of the waves, and a Titan dropped on the other side of my cyclone.

*    *    *

I thought I was hallucinating. It just wasn't possible that a huge silvery figure could drop out of the sky and stomp a cyclops flat, trampling it into a mound of monster dust.

But that's exactly what happened. Through the red mist of the speeding water around Luke and I, I could see the Titan was ten feet tall, with wild silver Einstein hair, pure silver eyes and muscular arms protruding from a ripped-up blue janitor's uniform. In his hand was a massive push broom. His name tag, incredibly, read BOB. I was so shocked, the cyclone fell from around us, the reddish liquid splashing Luke and I and spotting his legs. 

Luke cussed loudly, but the giant janitor wasn't interested in him. He turned to the remaining cyclopses, who looked about as dumbfounded as I felt.

One was foolish enough to attack. It lunged with a shocking amount of speed, but it never stood a chance. A spearhead jutted from the end of Bob's broom. With a single deadly swipe, he cut it to dust. The others were far less interested in attempting the same, and decided to try their luck on smaller opponents: which just so happened to be Luke and I. 

I was able to summon a wave to swallow the one closest to Luke, and was happy to hear two more getting taken out by Bob’s deadly broom. Luke was able to get the jump on one before another lunged at his turned back, and I was barely able to slice it in half before it knocked him down. 

I turned, ready to help the Titan and froze. Where at least fifteen cyclopes had surrounded us, only one remained. The air in my lungs left all at once, the surprise from the Titan’s arrival, mixed with the appreciativeness I would never be able to articulate. 

The last one tried to run. Bob threw his broom like a massive boomerang (was there such a thing as a broomerang?). It sliced through the cyclops and returned to Bob's hand.

"SWEEP!" The Titan grinned with delight and did a victory dance. "Sweep, sweep, sweep!"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't bring myself to believe that something good had actually happened. 

Luke looked just as shocked. "H- how…?" he stammered.

"Allie called me!" the janitor said happily. "Yes, she did. Allie said ‘help’ and ‘Bob’ and here I am!"

Luke swayed a little on his feet. His arm was back to bleeding badly, the injury soaking my shirt-turned-makshift bandage even worse than before. "Called you? She— wait. You're Bob? The Bob?"

The janitor frowned when he noticed Luke's wounds, ignoring his question entirely. "Owie."

Luke flinched as the Titan knelt next to him.

"It's okay," I said, getting a little dizzy. "He's friendly. He… He can heal you. Gods. I can’t believe…"

I remembered when I'd first met Bob. The Titan had healed a bad wound on my shoulder just by touching it. Sure enough, the janitor tapped Luke's forearm and it mended instantly.

Bob chuckled, pleased with himself, then bounded over to me and healed the pounding migraine that started making itself known. The Titan's hands were as surprisingly warm and gentle as I remembered.

"All better!" Bob declared, his eerie silver eyes crinkling with pleasure. "I am Bob, Allie's friend!"

"Uh… yeah," I managed, wanting desperately to find somewhere to sit down and just… stare. For a while. "Thanks for the help, Bob. It's… really good to see you again. I don’t even…"

"Yes!" the janitor agreed. "Bob. That's me. Bob, Bob, Bob." He shuffled around, obviously pleased with his name. "I am helping. I heard my name. Upstairs in Hades's palace, nobody calls for Bob unless there is a mess. Bob, sweep up these bones’. Bob, mop up these tortured souls. Bob, a zombie exploded in the dining room."

Luke gave me a puzzled look, but I had no explanation. When last I saw Bob… Well, it had been when he’d become Bob, and the only thing I could remember was Hades saying he’d find… something to do with him…

"Then I heard my friend call!" The Titan beamed. "Allie said, Bob!"

He held his arms out, as though presenting me to a crowd. It was endearing and almost a little bit sad.

"That's awesome," I said weakly. "Seriously. But how did you—?"

"Oh, time to talk later." Bob's expression turned serious. "We must go before they find you. They are coming. Yes, indeed."

"They?" Luke asked.

I scanned the horizon. I saw no approaching monsters— nothing but the stark grey wasteland slightly off in the distance and the spread of the body of water beside us. Though, I couldn’t deny I wanted to get far from the ocean now that I knew what was residing in it. 

"Yes," Bob agreed. "But Bob knows a way. Come on, friends! We will have fun!"

*    *    *

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0.3 Hell Hath No Fury Like a Woman Who Absolutely Refuses To Die In Tartarus Because How Completely Unfair Would That Be?????

Allie

It was difficult hiding how pissed off I was from Luke. 

It was difficult hiding much of anything about me from Luke, to be honest, but this I knew had to stay buried as far deep as I could get it. 

I could already see the guilt eating him alive. I’d seen it written all over his face since he’d looked up at me when we were hanging over the Pit, and it had never quite faded since. Not when he’d asked me to call upon the Misery River to soften our fall, not when he’d brought me to the Fire River to make sure we didn’t die, not when I took down Arachne and wished I’d savored it a little more, and most certainly not after our fight with a horde of telekhines— monsters I had more trauma with than most. To him, it was his actions that had landed us in the darkest pit of Hell. 

But none of it was his fault. I’d said as much to him, but I wasn’t sure how much of it had gotten through his thick skull. I could feel a spiral of rage traveling up from my stomach, overpowering the fire I’d swallowed earlier. I wasn’t sure how much of it was exacerbated by Tartarus, or if it was all me, but either way it felt equal parts satisfying and off-putting. I’d never felt a rage quite like this before. 

Regardless, I knew I had to swallow it, if not for the simple reason of making sure it didn’t cloud my judgment in a place where I had to be as level-headed as I could get, but also for Luke. I didn’t want him to feel even worse than I already knew he did, and letting my anger get the better of me would only make him feel even more guilty. 

So I schooled my expression. I made sure my footsteps remained soft and that I only clenched my jaw every so often instead of attempting to crush my teeth to dust in my mouth. 

We followed the River Phlegethon, stumbling over the glassy black terrain, jumping crevices and hiding behind rocks whenever the vampire girls slowed in front of us.

It was tricky to stay far enough back to avoid getting spotted but close enough to keep Kelli and her comrades in view through the dark hazy air, but it helped in keeping my mind off of my righteous anger. The heat from the river baked my skin. Every breath was like inhaling sulfur-scented fiberglass. When we needed a drink, the best we could do was sip some refreshing liquid fire.

Yeah, the gods were never going to hear the end of this if we ever made it out.

At the very least, the Fire River seemed to be helping Luke’s ACL heal. His limping had gone from barely being able to put weight on his leg at all to a barely-noticable drag. His various cuts and scrapes had faded. Despite being beat-up, sooty and dressed like a homeless person, he looked just as handsome as ever.

For some reason, the realization sent a jolt through me. I wasn’t sure if it had hit me, very belatedly, that we truly had survived the however-long fall into the Pit (something that I truly hadn’t expected while hanging from that godsforsaken ledge), or if maybe it was just him. Luke had an odd ability to make me feel like I could conquer the world without him actually having to say anything. So what if we were in Tartarus? So what if we stood a slim chance of surviving? I was so glad that we were together, I had the ridiculous urge to smile. 

And, if I was honest, I couldn’t deny that the Fire River had made me feel better, too. Sure, my clothes looked like I’d been in an attempted mauling by a rabid dog (Which… I supposed I technically had), even if the skin underneath remained perfectly intact. And, sure, if I went a little too long without taking another swig of fire, my voice started to sound like I’d spend fifteen hours in my studio without a water break, but that was all fine. We were alive, we had a source of sustenance that would keep us so (even if it was only for us to experience more pain and suffering and even if it was horrifically disgusting). Taking into account… well, everything, Luke and I were doing pretty well. 

Of course, I was definitely still thirsty, hungry, and scared out of my mind (though I wasn't about to tell Luke that), but at the very least, I'd shaken off the hopeless cold of the River Cocytus. That accounted for a lot. 

Still, time was impossible to judge. We trudged along, following the river as it cut through the harsh landscape. Fortunately for us (and Luke’s hurt leg), the empousai weren't exactly speed walkers. They shuffled on their mismatched bronze and donkey legs, hissing and fighting with each other, apparently in no hurry to reach the Doors of Death.

Once, the demons sped up in excitement and swarmed something that looked like a beached carcass on the riverbank. I couldn't tell what it was— a fallen monster? An animal of some kind? Whatever it was, the empousai attacked it with relish.

When the demons moved on, Luke and I reached the spot and found nothing left except a few splintered bones and glistening stains drying in the heat of the river. I had no doubt the empousai would attempt to devour the two of us with the same gusto.

“Well that’s… peachy,” I mumbled. 

I watched a grimace form on his face. “Glad to be down here without the chaos of Daedalus’ workshop and less swords,” he said pessimistically. 

"Come on." I led Luke gently away from the scene. "We don't want to lose them."

As we walked, I thought about the first time I'd fought the empousa Kelli at the superbly extra Steak House/Ice Cream Shop, when me, Rachel, and Tate got trapped in the alleyway right beside it. At the time, it had seemed like a hopeless situation. Now, I'd give anything to have a problem that simple.

At least I'd been in the mortal world then. Here, there was nowhere to run and even fewer places to hide if we could run. 

Gods. That was depressing. Was I seriously beginning to think of the time before the Second Titan War as ‘the good ole days’? That couldn’t be good for my health. At the very least, back then it was no question that Luke and I would always have the other at our side. I always knew I could get through anything so long as he was there. It wasn’t that the sentiment was no longer true now, but over the course of the quest, it seemed like Luke and I were destined to be apart— until, of course, we’d fallen into Tartarus together. 

I kept holding out hope that things would get better for Luke and me, but our lives seemed to be getting more and more dangerous, as if the Three Fates were up there spinning our futures with barbed wire instead of thread just to see how much two demigods could tolerate. 

The joke would be on them, though. I was beginning to tire of being their personal guinea pig. 

After a few more miles, the empousai disappeared over a ridge. When me and Luke caught up, we found ourselves at the edge of another massive cliff. The River Phlegethon spilled over the side in jagged tiers of fiery waterfalls. The demon ladies were picking their way down the cliff, jumping from ledge to ledge like mountain goats.

I swallowed thickly, trying to keep the liquid fire in my stomach down. Even if we reached the bottom of the cliff alive, we didn't have much to look forward to. The landscape below us was a bleak ash-grey plain bristling with black trees, like insect hair. The ground was pocked with blisters. Every once in a while, a bubble would swell and burst, disgorging a monster like a larva from an egg.

Over my years dealing with the Greek world, I’d acquired a strong stomach. Suddenly, though, I wasn’t so confident in it.

All the newly formed monsters were crawling and hobbling in the same direction— towards a bank of black fog that swallowed the horizon like a storm front. The Phlegethon flowed in the same direction until about halfway across the plain, where it met another river of black water— maybe the Cocytus? The two floods combined in a steaming, boiling cataract and flowed on as one towards the black fog. 

If I squinted, I could just barely make out a larger body of water, not connected to either river, that spanned far off into the distance next to the joined rivers. It was difficult to see from so far away, but I could have sworn I could make out the ebb and flow of ocean waves. I had to swallow down the homesickness that rolled through my entire body. 

I forced myself to avert my gaze back to the fog, but the longer I looked into that storm of darkness, the less I wanted to go there. It could be hiding anything— a bottomless pit, an army of monsters, something far worse than I could even imagine. But if the Doors of Death were in that direction it was our only chance to get home. We didn’t particularly have a choice. 

I peered over the edge of the cliff. "Wish we could fly," I muttered. Luke looked dejectedly down at his feet, and I winced. I’d forgotten his shoes had been messed up. “Shit, sorry, Babe.” 

“‘S okay, Angel,” he replied, forcing a small smile on his face for my comfort. "I can’t say they wouldn’t have helped. Though, I'd also settle for a hang glider."

"Maybe not the best idea." I pointed. Above us, dark-winged shapes spiraled in and out of the blood-red clouds.

"Furies, d’you think?" he wondered aloud. 

"Or some other kind of demon," I replied. "I'd assume Tartarus has thousands. Probably even some we haven’t heard of."

"Including the kind that eats hang gliders," he guessed. "Okay, so we climb."

I couldn't see the empousai below us anymore. They'd disappeared behind one of the ridges, but that didn't matter. It was clear where Luke and I needed to go. Like all the maggot monsters crawling over the plains of Tartarus, we should head towards the dark horizon. I was just brimming with enthusiasm for that.

*    *    * 

As we started down the cliff, I concentrated on the challenges at hand: keeping my footing, avoiding rockslides that would alert the empousai to our presence, and of course, making sure me and Luke didn't plummet to our deaths.

About halfway down the precipice, Luke said, "Stop, okay? Just a quick break."

His legs wobbled so badly, I cursed myself for not calling a rest earlier.

We sat together on a ledge next to a roaring fiery waterfall. Luke put his arm around me, and we leaned against each other, shaking from exhaustion and trying to hide how winded we both were. 

At least I have Luke, I kept repeating to myself in my head. We would find a way out of Tartarus. We had to. I didn't think much of fates and prophecies, but I did believe in one thing: Luke and I were supposed to be together. We hadn't survived so much just to get killed now. I refused to believe this would be where our story ended. 

"Things could be worse," Luke ventured.

"Yeah?" I didn't see how, but I tried to sound upbeat. I snuggled against him. He smelled of smoke, and if I closed my eyes I could almost imagine we were at the campfire at Camp Half-Blood. 

"We could've fallen into the River Lethe," he said. "Lost all our memories."

I shivered. “Yeah, I could do with a little less amnesia in my life, to be honest,” I replied, voice barely audible. “The Lethe is definitely… not one of my favorites.” 

"What was the Titan's name?" Luke asked me. “You know, the one whose memory you wiped on that quest for Persephone with Thalia and Nico that you told me about?” 

My eyebrows furrowed. "Uh… Iapetus. He said it meant the Impaler or something."

Luke gave a soft laugh as he squeezed my shoulder. "No, Angel, the name you gave him after he lost his memory. Steve?"

"Bob," I said, the memory bringing a smile to my face despite our surroundings.

Luke managed another weak laugh. "Bob the Titan. What a guy."

My lips were so parched, it hurt to smile. I wondered what had happened to Iapetus after we'd left him in Hades's palace… if he was still content being Bob, friendly, happy and clueless. I hoped so, but the Underworld seemed to bring out the worst in everyone— monsters, heroes, gods. I hated imagining how much Tartarus was already changing the two of us for the worst. 

I gazed across the ashen plains. The other Titans were supposed to be in Tartarus— maybe bound in chains, or roaming aimlessly, or hiding in some of those dark crevices. Me and my allies had destroyed the worst Titan, Kronos, but even his remains might have been down there somewhere— a billion angry Titan particles floating through the blood-colored clouds or lurking in that dark fog. I wondered if the pieces of the Titan would be able to sense me near. 

I decided not to think about that. I kissed Luke's cheek. "We should keep moving. You want some more fire to drink?"

"Ugh. I'll pass."

We struggled to our feet. The rest of the cliff looked impossible to descend— nothing more than a crosshatching of tiny ledges— but we kept climbing down.

My body went on autopilot. My fingers cramped. I got shaky from hunger.

I wondered if we would die of starvation, or if the firewater would keep us going. I remembered the punishment of Tantalus, who'd been permanently stuck in a pool of water under a fruit tree but couldn't reach either food or drink.

Jeez, I hadn't thought about Tantalus in years. That asshole had been paroled briefly to serve as director at Camp Half-Blood. If I had to guess, he was probably (hopefully) back in the Fields of Punishment. I would never feel sorry for the cunt, but I could definitely see why he was so hangry all of the time. I could imagine what it would be like, getting hungrier and hungrier for eternity but never being able to eat.

Keep climbing, I told myself.

After what felt like a decade, we reached the bottom. I helped Luke down, and we collapsed on the ground.

Ahead of us stretched miles of wasteland, bubbling with monstrous larvae and big insect-hair trees. To our right, the Phlegethon split into branches that etched the plain, widening into a delta of smoke and fire. To the north, along the main route of the river, the ground was riddled with cave entrances. Here and there, spires of rock jutted up like exclamation points. Farther still was the ocean I’d seen before. 

Under my hand, the soil felt alarmingly warm and smooth. I tried to grab a handful, then realized that, under a thin layer of dirt and debris, the ground was a single vast membrane… like skin. The feeling would have made me puke, except for the fact that the only thing left in my stomach was liquid fire. 

I didn't mention it to Luke, but I had started to feel like something was watching us— something vast and malevolent. I couldn't zero in on it, because the presence was all around us. Watching was the wrong word, too. That implied eyes, and this thing was simply… aware of us. I wasn’t sure how, but something in me told me that I was right. 

The ridges above us now looked less like steps and more like rows of massive teeth. The spires of rock looked like broken ribs. And if the ground was skin… 

I forced those thoughts aside. This place was just freaking me out. That was all. 

Luke finally stood, wiping soot from his face and grimacing only slightly when he put his weight on his bad leg. He gazed towards the darkness on the horizon. "Gods, we're going to be completely exposed, crossing this plain."

About a hundred yards ahead of us, a blister burst on the ground. A monster clawed its way out and I had to clench my teeth to hold back a gasp. A glistening telekhine with slick fur, a seal-like body, and stunted human limbs. It managed to crawl a few yards before something shot out of the nearest cave, so fast that I could only register a dark green reptilian head. The monster snatched the squealing telkhine in its jaws and dragged it into the darkness.

Reborn in Tartarus for two seconds, only to be eaten. I wondered if that telekhine would pop up in some other place in Tartarus, and how long it would take to re-form. I wondered if it was one that Luke and I had killed… however long ago it had been. 

I swallowed down the sour taste of firewater. "Oh, yeah. This is going to be stunning."

Luke helped me to my feet. I took one last look at the cliffs, but there was no shot we’d be able to go back the way we’d come. I would've given a thousand golden drachmas to have Frank Zhang with us— good old Frank, who always seemed to show up when needed and could turn into an eagle or a dragon to fly us across this stupid wasteland.

We started walking, trying to avoid the cave entrances, sticking close to the bank of the river.

We were just skirting one of the spires when a glint of movement caught my eye— something darting between the rocks to our right. A monster following us? Or maybe it was just some random, heading for the Doors of Death.

Suddenly I remembered why we'd started following this route, and I froze in my tracks. "The empousai." I grabbed Luke's arm. "Where are they?"

Luke scanned a three-sixty, his blue eyes bright with alarm. Maybe the demon ladies had been snapped up by that reptile in the cave. If the empousai were still ahead of us, they should've been visible somewhere on the plains.

Unless they were hiding… 

Too late, I drew Shaker. Out of habit, I reached for Riptide, too, and stumbled when I came up empty before remembering that Luke had it. The movement slowed me more than I wished to admit. 

The empousai emerged from the rocks all around us— five of them forming a ring. A perfect trap.

Kelli limped forward on her mismatched legs. Her fiery hair burned across her shoulders like a miniature Phlegethon waterfall. Her tattered outfit was splattered with rusty-brown stains, and I was pretty sure they weren't ketchup. She fixed me with her glowing red eyes and bared her fangs.

"Astraea Jackson," she cooed. "How awesome! I don't even have to return to the mortal world to destroy you!"

*    *    * 

I recalled how dangerous Kelli had been the last time we'd fought in the Labyrinth. Despite those mismatched legs, she could move fast when she wanted to. She'd dodged my sword strikes and would have eaten my face if Luke hadn't stabbed her from behind.

Now she had four friends with her.

"And your friend Luke is with you!" Kelli hissed with laughter. "Oh, yeah, I totally remember him." Kelli touched her own sternum, where the tip of the sword had exited when Luke had stabbed her in the back. "What's the matter, son of Hermes? Lost your own weapon, had to steal a new one? Bummer. I'd use the old one to kill you."

I tried to think. Luke and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we had many times before, ready to fight. But neither of us was in good enough shape for an outnumbered battle. Luke had Riptide, but still had a haphazardly-healed torn ACL and was way more banged up than me. We were hopelessly outnumbered. There was nowhere to run. No help coming.

Briefly, I considered calling for Mrs. O'Leary, my hellhound friend who could shadow-travel. Even if she heard me, could she make it into Tartarus? It was where monsters went when they died. Calling her here might kill her, or turn her back to her natural state as a fierce monster. No, I knew the answer immediately. I couldn't do that to my dog.

So, no help. Fighting was a long shot.

That left Luke's favorite tactics: trickery, talk, delay.

"So…" I started, "I guess you're wondering what we're doing in Tartarus."

Kelli snickered. "Not really. I just want to kill you."

That would've been it, I had no other ideas, no other ace up my sleeve. My talent for improv, honed by years in front of a camera, failed me almost immediately. But, thankfully, Luke chimed in, knowing exactly where to go.

"Too bad," he said, laying a little of his Hermes-given charm in his words. "Because you have no idea what's going on in the mortal world."

The other empousai circled, watching Kelli for a cue to attack, but she only snarled, crouching out of reach of my sword. "We know enough," Kelli snarled. "Gaea has spoken."

"You're heading towards a major defeat." Luke sounded so confident, even I was impressed. He glanced at the other empousai, one by one, then pointed accusingly at Kelli. "This one claims she's leading you to a victory. She's lying. The last time she was in the mortal world, Kelli was in charge of keeping my friend Annabeth Chase and my brother faithful to Kronos. In the end, Annabeth rejected him. She gave her life to expel Kronos. The Titans lost because Kelli failed. Now Kelli wants to lead you to yet another disaster."

The other empousai muttered and shifted uneasily.

"Enough!" Kelli's fingernails grew into long black talons. She glared at Luke as if imagining him sliced into small pieces. "The boy is a Son of Hermes— he lies. So the Titans lost. Fine! That was part of the plan to wake Gaea! Now the Earth Mother and her giants will destroy the mortal world, and we will totally feast on demigods!"

The other vampires gnashed their teeth in a frenzy of excitement. I had been in the middle of a school of sharks when the water was full of blood. That wasn't nearly as scary as empousai ready to feed.

I prepared to attack, but how many could I dispatch before they overwhelmed me? It wouldn't be enough, not if I wanted to keep Luke safe.

"The demigods have united!" Luke yelled. "You'd better think twice before you attack us. Romans and Greeks will fight you together. You don't stand a chance!"

The empousai backed up nervously, hissing, "Romani."

I guessed they'd had experience with the Twelfth Legion before and it hadn't worked out well for them. For the first time, I wished I’d been able to receive the branding of joining the legion. It would have been proof enough. 

Thankfully, my (albeit short) time at Camp Jupiter had honed my Latin skills just enough. “You have no idea the trap you’re walking into,” I announced, and I hoped they couldn’t detect how clunky some of the words sounded as they left my mouth. “The she-demon is the true liar.”

The words alone were enough to frighten the empousai. One fell off the boulder where she'd been perched as the others scrambled backwards. That made me feel good, but they recovered quickly and closed in again.

"Bold talk," Kelli began, her scowl deepening around her tusks, "for two demigods lost in Tartarus. Lower your sword, Astraea Jackson, and I'll kill you quickly. Believe me, foolish girl, there are worse ways to die down here."

"Wait!" Luke tried again. "Aren't empousai the servants of Hecate?"

Kelli curled her lip. "So?"

"So Hecate is on our side now," Luke pointed out. "She has a cabin at Camp Half-Blood. Some of her demigod children are my friends. If you fight us, she'll be angry."

I wanted to hug Luke, he was so brilliant.

One of the other empousai growled. "Is this true, Kelli? Has our mistress made peace with Olympus?"

"Shut up, Serephone!" Kelli screeched. "Gods, you're annoying!"

"I will not cross the Dark Lady."

Luke took the opening. "You'd all be better following Serephone. She's older and wiser."

"Yes!" Serephone shrieked. "Follow me!"

Kelli struck so fast, I didn't have the chance to raise my sword. Fortunately, she didn't attack us. Kelli lashed out at Serephone. For half a second, the two demons were a blur of slashing claws and fangs.

Then it was over. Kelli stood triumphant over a pile of dust. From her claws hung the tattered remains of Serephone's dress.

"Any more issues?" Kelli snapped at her sisters. "Hecate is the goddess of the Mist! Her ways are mysterious. Who knows which side she truly favors? She is also the goddess of the crossroads, and she expects us to make our own choices. I choose the path that will bring us the most demigod blood! I choose Gaea!"

Her friends hissed in approval.

Luke glanced at me, and I saw that he was out of ideas. He'd done what he could. He'd got Kelli to eliminate one of her own. Now there was nothing left but to fight. Four against two. We’d faced worse odds before. 

"For two years I churned in the void," Kelli snarled darkly. "Do you know how completely annoying it is to be vaporized, Luke Castellan? Slowly re-forming, fully conscious, in searing pain for months and years as your body regrows, then finally breaking the crust of this hellish place and clawing your way back to daylight? All because some little boy stabbed you in the back?" Her baleful eyes held Luke's. "I wonder what happens if a demigod is killed in Tartarus. I doubt it's ever happened before. Let's find out."

I sprang, slashing Shaker in a huge arc. I cut one of the demons in half, but Kelli dodged and charged Luke. The other two empousai launched themselves at me. One grabbed my sword arm. Her friend jumped on my back.

I tried to ignore them and staggered towards Luke, determined to go down defending him if I had to, but Luke was doing pretty well. He tumbled to one side, evading Kelli's claws, and came up swinging with Riptide. The she-demon moved quickly enough to miss the blade, but not enough to move out of the way of Luke flinging gravel in her face. She wailed, and twisted ferociously to keep out of the path of his next swings.

Meanwhile, I thrashed from side to side, trying to throw off my empousa hitch-hiker, but her claws kept a good grip on my iron skin. The second empousa held my arm, preventing me from using Shaker.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kelli lunge, raking her talons across Luke's arm. Luke screamed and fell.

I stumbled in his direction. The vampire on my back tried biting into my neck, but came up toothless. She hissed in defiance and tried dragging me to the ground. 

Stay on your feet, I told myself. You have to beat them.

Then the other vampire jerked my arm, and Shaker clattered to the ground.

That was it. Our luck had finally run out. Kelli loomed over Luke, savoring her moment of triumph. The other two empousai circled me, their mouths slavering, ready to find the one vulnerable spot on my body.

My breath stuttered in my chest. A surge of defiance rose in my chest so quickly, I almost wasn’t sure what to do with it. I focused in on my battle-worn instincts. We wouldn’t go out like this. I refused. 

A tugging at my gut alerted me before I’d even recognized I’d called upon the Misery River a few feet away. It was still difficult— the river fought me with every pull I asked of it, just like it had when I’d needed to soften our fall— but it responded to me nonetheless. 

Before Kelli could make her victory lunge, taking out Luke for good, gallons of straight misery landed on top of her head. I didn’t bother to wait to see how it would affect the empousa. I used the distraction to swing the she-demon holding onto my arm around until she was off-balance enough to loosen her grip around my arm. 

With a well-aimed kick, I sent the empousa flying, her nails raking down my arm, but leaving no scratches. Then, I focused on the demon skill taking up residence on my back. The thing was trying her best to screech curses at me, but with her fangs having been broken against my Iron Skin, the words came out more like a baby’s babbles. 

I dropped to my back without another word, relishing in the shriek of surprise the she-demon released as my body weight fell on top of her. I rolled out of her grip and reached for the nearest hard object: a jagged piece of rock that looked more like a shard of glass than stone. 

The rock made a sickening noise as it struck against the empousa, but I forced myself to ignore it as I lunged for Shaker. The blade was just near enough for me to wrap my hand around. Without another thought, I spun it around and shoved the point of the blade directly into the she-demon’s face. 

I didn’t bother waiting to watch her fade into dust. Instead, I turned back to Kelli. 

The head empousa was dripping wet, trembling from what I couldn’t be sure was rage, the cold, or something else entirely. 

“You will suffer, Astraea Jackson,” she hissed, as she watched me stalk toward her. “Suffer, and I will relish in your pain. I will even ask Gaea to allow me the honor of watching you die. I will have it be slow and agonizing—” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, you cunt,” I growled, swinging Shaker around and slicing the she-demon’s head off before I had to listen to her shrieking voice any more. 

Another shriek sounded behind me— too close— and I realized I’d forgotten about the final empousa, who I’d simply shaken off. 

Before I could bring my sword around, Luke was already there, slicing her in half with Riptide. 

“I guess what they say is true, Angel,” he huffed, a wince on his face as he dropped Riptide to clutch at the arm Kelli had clawed at. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.”

*    *    *

previous | next

0.2 What Happens in Vegas (Or Tartarus), Stays in Vegas (... Or Tartarus)

Luke

For just a moment, I could almost pretend that the sun was shining on the two of us once more. 

The remains of Arachne settled on the obsidian rocks beneath our feet fast, but they reflected off the light emitting from the fire river in just a way that resembled the warm morning rays that I was already beginning to miss. 

"You okay?" Allie’s voice roused me from the staring contest I was having with the back of her head. It was as smooth as it always was (Well, as much as it could be after drinking fire a few moments prior), but I could hear how wired she was underneath the words. Her shoulders were tense as her eyes scoured around the cliffs and boulders, alert for more monsters. But nothing else appeared. 

Riptide's Celestial bronze blade glowed even brighter in the gloom of Tartarus. As it passed through the thick hot air, it made a defiant hiss like a riled snake. I could see the tense, ready-for-battle look in her eyes through her reflection on Riptide. 

"She… she would've killed me," was the only thing I was able to stammer out, my jaw barely able to stay in place. 

She turned toward me, smirking a little at the amazement on my face before it dropped. Allie kicked the dust on the rocks, her expression turned grim and dissatisfied. "She died too easily, considering how much torture she put you through. She deserved much worse."

I couldn't argue with that, but the hard edge in Allie's voice made me feel… I wasn’t sure how it made me feel. If we had been anywhere but in the deepest pits of metaphorical Hell, it probably would have done irreparable damage to my psyche until they were the only words I could hear in our most intimate moments. Given our current circumstances, however, I couldn’t exactly press her up against a wall and—

I had to shake my head to get the image out of it. The point was, the tone of Allie’s voice was something I hadn’t heard from her… in a long time. I wasn’t even sure I had ever heard her voice like that. 

Allie was loyal to a fault, I knew that. I knew she would do absolutely anything in order to get us— me— out of Tartarus, but I also wasn’t sure how that was going to manifest in Tartarus. Her father was often referred to as the Father of Monsters, and there we were— right in what was essentially their dressing room. 

A long time ago, back when Allie was lost after she blew up Mount St. Helens, Poseidon had once told me that, despite some of Allie’s rougher edges, he was certain she’d been born with all of his power, but none of his monstrous pieces. She was the soft, velvet tides, the sunshine after the storm. The parts of him that made people fear the ocean, the ways he proved himself as one of the sons of Kronos… he’d thought his first mortal daughter had been spared those traits. 

At the time, I couldn’t entirely see the fault in his logic. Allie was powerful, yes, but she was also so many things that made people underestimate her— compassionate, patient, empathetic… Hell, she had a reputation for being the most charitable celebrity in all of Hollywood. I knew better than to think she was completely pure, but Allie had hidden the darker parts of herself well. They only surfaced in dire situations. 

Mount St. Helens had changed her, sure, but what the final nail in the coffin had been was her visit to the Styx. Her acquiring the Curse of Achilles had skyrocketed all of her… everything. Her strength, her loyalty, her ruthlessness. Allie had always been closer to the gods than to her mortal side— no matter how much she tried to deny it— but getting Iron Skin… there was only one thing keeping her tethered to the mortal world, and she had confessed that it had been me. And now that we were stuck down in the Greek-world Ninth Circle…

I had a feeling this trip was going to determine just how powerful Allie was if she couldn't keep her demons in check. 

I swallowed thickly. "Baby, that was… How did you move so fast?"

Allie shrugged, like it was nothing, but she seemed to realize my shock would keep her from being able to completely brush it off. "Gotta watch each other's backs, right, Babe?”

“Of course,” I answered immediately. “But…” 

Almost faster than she’d killed Arachne, Allie grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled me down to her height, pressing my lips to hers, reducing my brain to mush and only able to conjure thoughts about how crazy it was that her lips were still as smooth as they always had been despite the poisoned Tartarus air. I’d realized (after an embarrassingly long time) later that she’d done this very intentionally, in order to keep me from talking about how well she’d taken down the monster that had terrorized me. An Allie Jackson classic of never talking about just how powerful she was until she couldn’t deny it anymore. 

She didn’t stray too far when she finally separated from me, to my satisfaction. I was gearing up to pull her back in when she cleared her throat and settled back flat on her feet. 

“So…” she started. “I know they’re both going to be uneven for you, but which one?” 

Still a little dazed from our kiss, all I could conjure up was, “Um… What?” 

Allie looked amused as she pulled Shaker off of her wrist and summoned the sword. The steel glimmered in the haze just as the bronze of Riptide did. “I’m sorry to remind you, but, Babe, you have no sword,” she said, and her voice was much gentler than I expected it to be. “I don’t mind being our brawn, but I also don’t think you want to be walking around Tartarus weaponless. Lucky for us, I just so happen to wield two swords. So… Which one?” 

I tried not to stare at her too crazily, but the suggestion had caught me totally off guard. Not that it was shocking in the sense that it came out of nowhere— I could see the logic in it all: I had no sword, Allie had two. It only made sense for us both to have one. But for some reason, my brain couldn’t wrap itself around the concept. 

Save for the first few weeks Allie was at Camp, she’d always used two swords— ever since Chiron had passed them to her as gifts from her father right before we’d left on our first-ever quest together. It was her staple, how she trained, how she was used to fighting. It had sometimes caused problems earlier on, since wielding two swords meant she couldn’t utilize a shield, but over the years, she’d become a fighting machine with them. To see her without one of them, even if it meant I was armed, felt… odd. 

And I couldn’t deny the intimacy in the offer. Allie’s swords were practically extensions of her own arms. Every master swordfighter felt that way about their weapons— I could feel the phantom weight of my own sword, even though I knew it was gone forever— and my girlfriend being so ready to give part of herself away like that almost felt more insane than when she’d handed her heart over for me to keep safe. 

“Won’t you feel lopsided, though?” I asked dumbly. 

The blinding smile she gave me made my knees weak. “Only a little,” she replied. “But I’ll be fine. I don’t want you without a weapon if we can help it.” Then, reading between the lines of what was sure to be a very skeptical look on my face, she continued, “Babe, seriously. Here, take Riptide. It’s a bit more weighted than Shaker is, so it might not throw you off as much.” 

I opened my mouth to argue, but Allie was not to be deterred. She grabbed my wrist and practically shoved the bronze sword into my hand. 

She was right, the length was off and the weight was softer than what I typically looked for in a sword, but it would have to do. I couldn’t deny just having a weapon made me feel minutely better. 

“If you’re sure,” I finally mumbled. “Thank you, Angel.” 

Allie nodded and spun Shaker in a circle to get a better grip on the handle. “Anything to get us out of here,” she said. “Speaking of… Should we, you know… Talk about this?” 

I furrowed my brows. “Talk about what?” 

She bit her lip, suddenly very interested in the fire water next to us. “I don’t want this to be… I don’t want to get…” She huffed, irritated at being unable to find the words. “We both know where we are, what this is. We both… we both know that this is going to be nearly impossible, if not outright so.” 

Despite knowing it was the truth, I was shocked Allie had admitted that so readily. I swallowed, the poisoned air making it difficult. “I know.” 

Allie suddenly shot her eyes up to my face and reached out to grab my shoulder with her free hand. “I’m not saying this to lower team morale,” she told me, her voice deadly serious. “I’m saying this because that means… It means we are going to have to do whatever it takes to make it out of here. Whatever it takes.” 

The tone in her voice had taken on another that I’d never heard from her before. I wondered how much of it was the fear she never let show talking. 

“I know, Angel,” I replied, reaching out and pulling her to my chest. My next words came out muffled against the top of her head. “Gods, Angel, I know. You know I’ll do anything to get you out of here. It’s my fault—” 

Allie jolted, and pushed against me until she could look me in the eyes, her glare fierce. “That’s not what I meant,” she snarled, her voice threatening. 

My eyebrows furrowed again. “But—” 

“It is not your fault that we are down here, Luke,” she stated sternly, and I couldn’t help but jump at her use of my name. “It’s Gaea’s, and Arachne’s, and the fucking gods’—” She cut herself off, sighing through her nose before she could finish the sacreligious thought. Not that I disagreed, but still. “We are just being played as pawns, just like usual. But I don’t want to be sacrificed anymore, you know? If we’re going to make it out of here, we just might have to…” 

“Make some pawns of our own?” I supplied. 

Allie cringed. “I don’t want to,” she said quickly. “But if it’s between that or being stuck down here forever…” She sighed again and ran a hand through her loose curls. The look in her eyes hardened. “It’s what I said before. That no matter what, we do whatever it takes to make it out of here. No matter how terrifying, or dark, or twisted, we do whatever we can to get to those doors and get the fuck out of here.”

I was stunned into another silence. For just a moment, I was startled by the look on her face. If it were up to her and not a primordial being and a horde of monsters, she probably could have clawed her way back up to where we’d fallen from. 

But I could feel what I assumed she was… unimaginable rage and terror that were mixing terribly in my psyche. “Of course, Angel. Whatever it takes to end this bullshit.”

“And if we have to keep some of the things we do down here a secret,” she continued, “then that’s just what we’ll have to do. Vegas rules.” 

“Tartarus rules,” I corrected, and it felt like some of the weight on my shoulders eased whenever she laughed. 

The hardness on her face had finally smoothed and she was looking more like her usual, beautiful self. “So long as we’re on the same page, we’ll be fine,” she said, and that gentle lilt to her voice was back, too. "Anyways… Before you got rudely interrupted, you were saying we should head downstream?"

Allie walked past me, swinging Shaker in a circle as I nodded, looking back at the river of fire. The remnant yellow dust from Arachne dissipated on the rocky shore, turning to steam. At least now we knew that monsters could be killed in Tartarus… though I had no idea how long Arachne would remain dead. I didn't plan on staying long enough to find out.

"Yeah, downstream," I managed. "If the river comes from the upper levels of the Underworld, it should flow deeper into Tartarus—"

"So it leads into more dangerous territory," she finished, humming like this was going to be a walk in the park. "Which is probably where the Doors are. Lucky us."

*    *    *

It felt like the Telekhines came out of nowhere. 

We had plodded along, half in a stupor, trying to form a plan. It was hard. The fiery water of the Phlegethon may have healed us and given us strength, but it hadn't done anything for our hunger or thirst. The river wasn't about making you feel good. It just kept you going so you could experience more excruciating pain. 

I had only stopped for two seconds to re-tie the laces of my shoe (trying not to cringe at how badly my knee ached at the action) when I heard the sound of Allie crying out and the following sound of her body hitting the ground. 

If the sound hadn’t terrified me as much as it did, I might’ve given her a hard time for (I was certain) keeping her own back undefended in order to protect mine. 

“Allie!” I cried, stumbling as I tried to get to my feet. 

Unfortunately, like an idiot, I seemed to have forgotten that I’d torn my ACL, so when I lunged toward Allie to help her, my leg entirely buckled underneath my body weight. 

The Telekhines swarmed us immediately. I couldn’t tell how many there were— it couldn’t have been anything less than fifteen— but the crowd was so thick around that I lost sight of Allie through the mass of them. Two jumped at me before I could fully get my bearings and I nearly lost Riptide in the shock. 

I tried not to lose myself in the chaos. A notable trait of demigods was the fact that our ADHD in regular life translated to slowing things down whenever faced with the evils of the Greek world. Even still, I had to force myself to think around the pain in my leg in order to fight. 

Riptide being so light in my hand actually worked to my advantage at first. I might have been bound to the ground, but the celestial bronze blade could deal a killing blow even if it wasn’t a direct headshot. I sliced off the legs of the two nearest to me and used the momentum from swinging a bit too hard to push myself to my good knee. 

More swarmed me, but I was ready this time. I realized very quickly why Allie was so fond of Riptide. The blade, though it wasn’t made for me, seemed to know exactly where to go, even if I felt like I wasn’t being as precise as I usually was. Or maybe it didn’t even matter. Contact seemed to destroy the Telekhines either way. 

Three more were cut down, and finally it seemed like the crowd was thinning. The roaring in my ears seemed to be dulling into more of a background static, and I could hear what they were saying in their snarling, whining voices. 

“Curse the Daughter of Poseidon!” one cried. “We will kill her this time!” 

“Fire will work eventually,” another seethed. “It will make her blood burn!” 

I cut the third in half before it could lay another curse upon the shoulders of my girlfriend. The gods only knew how many already laid there. The two that had spoken turned toward me, but I was already gearing up for another swing. 

The comments reminded me of the last time we’d faced these monsters alone, though. The heat of Tartarus even reminded me of the time— the heart of Mount St. Helens was comparable. The Labyrinth was never a nice quest to remember, but that was a particularly terrible memory. The knowledge that Allie had made the volcano erupt and had gone missing in action for two whole weeks afterward had almost driven me to the brink of insanity. 

It was a wonder I’d survived the six months without her. 

“Luke!” I heard Allie’s voice cry. 

The dust from the disintegrated telekhines blinded me for a moment. I could feel a presence behind me, but before I could get my bearings, I heard Allie spit out a curse and the sound of a sword hitting a target a millimeter from my face. 

I blinked the dust away from my eyes and spun on my knee, only to see the teeth of a telekhine crumble to dust right in front of my face. If Allie hadn’t thrown Shaker, the monster would have been completely open to sink its fangs into my neck like some rabid vampire. I tried not to let the close call affect me. Allie would be defenseless, I’d need to get the rest of the monsters slain on my own. 

When Allie spat out another curse, I scooped up Shaker and forced myself to ignore the pain in my knee as I got to my feet. There were only about six of the dog-like monsters left— three turning their attention toward me as the others tried scratching and biting to find the vulnerable spot on Allie. She was doing a good job keeping her back safe by kicking her feet and shoving the monsters away, but I wanted to hurry. No use in giving them even more attempts at killing her. 

I grit my teeth and lunged. With two swords, I was able to take more of the telekhines down much faster. I stabbed two in the stomachs as they lunged at me and used the momentum to slice through the third. I huffed, then turned toward the remaining three. 

Allie had managed to get the upper-hand on one, a rock in her hand as she bashed its skull in. The other two barely had time to turn before they’d become dust. 

Silence rang in my ears. Just below that, I could hear the sound of Allie’s breathing, quick and slightly panicked, as she dropped the rock in her hand. 

“Gods,” I mumbled, collapsing back to my knees beside her. “Gods, Angel, are you alright?” 

Even though I knew she couldn’t be hurt, I still grabbed her arms and pulled her close. As expected, her arms remained unblemished— not a single scratch or bruise— but her hands were trembling so violently that I felt it as I held her. 

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice shaking almost as badly as her hands. “Are you? Shit, Luke, you were on the ground and…” She swallowed. “That telekhine got so close…” 

If I concentrated, I could almost feel the phantom presence of the monster right beside my head. “I’m fine, too, Angel,” I told her, pulling her to my chest. “I’m okay, you got it in time.” 

She shivered and I pulled her to my chest to comfort her. She let herself rest there for a moment before she straightened— enough to look at my face, but not so far that she left my hold. 

“What about your knee?” she asked, her eyes big and worried. “I couldn’t really see you fight, but I know when that telekhine almost got you, you were on your good knee.” 

I pursed my lips. “‘s fine, Baby,” I reassured her, but because I couldn’t lie to her, I continued, “It hurts, but it’s not debilitating.” 

Allie looked unconvinced, but nodded all the same. “If you’re sure,” she mumbled. “I’d love to be able to sit and rest, but… I don’t want to stay around here. Think you can walk a bit?” 

I wasn’t fully sure, but I still nodded. “‘Course, Angel,” I answered. “Let’s get as far as we can and then we… we can try to find somewhere…” 

I couldn’t say ‘somewhere safe’, mostly because I wasn’t sure there was such a place in Tartarus, but I could tell Allie knew what I meant. She squared her shoulders and pushed herself to her feet, then helped me do the same. 

When we were steadied and supporting each other, she sighed. “Well… inward and onward, I suppose.” 

*** 

Because it seemed that there was no concept of peace in Tartarus, we'd only travelled another few hundred yards before I heard voices.

They seemed fairly distant, but getting closer. With every second that passed, I could hear more of the argument that seemed to be brewing between whichever monsters were headed our way. 

I whispered, "Angel, down!"

She responded immediately, leading us behind the nearest boulder, wedging myself so close against the riverbank that my shoes almost touched the river's fire. On the other side, on the narrow path between the river and the cliffs, voices snarled, getting louder as they approached from upstream.

I tried to steady my breathing. The voices sounded vaguely human, but that meant nothing. I was going to assume anything in Tartarus was our enemy. I didn't know how the monsters could have failed to spot us already. Besides, monsters could smell demigods— especially powerful ones like Allie, the first mortal daughter of Poseidon. Monsters outside of Tartarus probably could smell her. I doubted that hiding behind a boulder would do any good when the monsters caught our scent.

Still, as the monsters got nearer, their voices didn't change in tone. Their uneven footsteps— scrap, clump, scrap, clump— didn't seem to be getting any faster in anticipation of an easy meal.

"Soon?" one of them asked in a raspy voice, as if she'd been gargling in the Phlegethon.

"Oh my gods!" said another voice. This one sounded much younger and much more human, like a teenaged mortal girl getting exasperated with her friends at the mall. For some reason, she sounded familiar to me. "You guys are so annoying! I told you, it's like three days from here."

Allie’s hand shot out and gripped my wrist. She looked at me with alarm, as if she recognized the mall girl's voice, too.

There was a chorus of growling and grumbling. The creatures— maybe half a dozen, if I was right about the amount of footsteps I could hear— had paused just on the other side of the boulder, but still they gave no indication that they'd caught our scent. I wondered if demigods didn't smell the same in Tartarus, or if the other scents here were so powerful they masked a demigod's aura.

"I wonder," said a third voice, gravelly and ancient like the first, "if perhaps you do not know the way, young one."

"Oh, shut your fang hole, Serephone," said the mall girl. "When's the last time you escaped to the mortal world? I was there a couple of years ago. I know the way! Besides, I understand what we're facing up there. You don't have a clue!"

"The Earth Mother did not make you boss!" shrieked a fourth voice. 

More hissing, scuffling and feral moans— like giant alley cats fighting. At last the one called Serephone yelled, "Enough!"

The scuffling died down.

"We will follow for now," Serephone said coldly. "But if you do not lead us well, if we find you have lied about the summons of Gaia—"

"I am not lying!" snapped the mall girl. "Believe me, I've got good reason to get into this battle. I have some enemies to devour, and you'll feast on the blood of heroes. Just leave one special morsel for me— the one named Astraea Jackson. Poseidon's princess."

I fought down a snarl of my own. I forgot about my fear. I wanted to jump over the boulder and slash the monsters to dust with Allie's sword, but the rational part of my brain decided that wouldn't be the best idea. I still had no idea where I recognized her voice from, but given her ire toward Allie, I could guess we’d met before. 

"Believe me," continued the mall girl. "Gaea has called us, and we're going to have so much fun. Before this war is over, mortals and demigods will tremble at the sound of my name— Kelli!"

I almost yelped aloud. I glanced at Allie. Even in the red light of the Phlegethon, her face seemed to darken.

Empousai, she mouthed toward me. The Labyrinth. Daedalus’ workshop. 

I remembered Kelli. Two years ago, outside an expensive Steakhouse-Ice Cream Shop in Manhattan, she and our friend Rachel and her late brother Tate Dare had been attacked by empousai disguised as cheerleaders. One of them had been Kelli. Later, the same empousa had attacked us in Daedalus's workshop. I had stabbed her in the back and sent her… here. To Tartarus.

The creatures shuffled off, their voices getting fainter. I crept to the edge of the boulder and risked a glimpse. Sure enough, five women staggered along on mismatched legs— mechanical bronze on the left, shaggy and cloven-hooved on the right. Their hair was made of fire, their skin as white as bone. Most of them wore tattered Ancient Greek dresses, except for the one in the lead, Kelli, who wore a burnt and torn blouse with a short skirt.

I gritted my teeth. I had faced a lot of bad monsters over the years, but I hated empousai more than most.

Kelli had almost killed Allie. She had manipulated my oldest friend, Annabeth and my brother, Cody, urging them to commit darker and darker deeds in the name of Kronos. 

Allie laid her leg over my lap, keeping me in place. "Don't go swing-happy, or I'll take your sword privileges away," she whispered with a smirk. She rose. "They're heading for the Doors of Death. You know what that means?"

I didn't want to think about it, but sadly this squad of flesh-eating horror-show women might be the closest thing to good luck we were going to get in Tartarus.

"Yeah," I muttered, as she pulled me up. "We need to follow them."

*    *    *

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0.1 We Drink Fire [REAL] [NOT CLICKBAIT] [DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME]

Luke

Nine days. 

As we fell, I thought about Hesiod, the old Greek poet who'd speculated it would take nine days to fall from earth to Tartarus.

I’d never particularly cared for the classics more than I had to— sometimes they helped with defeating monsters, sometimes they just gave me a deep-seated depressive episode. Chiron made sure all of the demigods that he trained left Camp with an unnatural amount of knowledge on every story our Greek forefathers had left for us, which was nice when I needed a way to kill something coming after me, but was terrible when I was freefalling into Tartarus with no plan on how to survive the impact. 

I hoped Hesiod was wrong. It was impossible to keep track of how long Allie and I fell. The screams for help from Nico and Hazel had long since faded… hours ago? A day? Would we ever reach the bottom, or would we just keep free-falling until we died of dehydration? It had already felt like an eternity. 

Allie’s nails still dug into my wrist. I wondered if she even realized, or if she was too worried about being separated to let go. I didn’t mind either way. 

There was one time, a few weeks after her twentieth birthday, that Allie had taken me, Silena, Katie, Clarrise, Chris, the Stolls, and Danny to Hawaii to go skydiving. She hadn’t cared about Zeus having a conniption at her being in his domain (“Babe, after everything I’ve done, if I even feel the slightest bit of turbulence on my next flight, I’m rioting.”), and somehow we’d made it through the entire trip without an incident. At the time, it had been incredible. Allie had rented out the entire place for the last three hours of their time open, so we got to go up and jump as many times as we wanted. The sight of the sunset had been incredible, but the ease on Allie’s face had been even better. 

I’d actually enjoyed skydiving quite a lot. It got my pulse racing in a way that had nothing to do with monsters or Titans or vengeful goddesses. Falling into the chasm was nothing like that. 

Now, I could only pull Allie close, hugging her tight as we tumbled through absolute darkness. She wrapped her legs as tightly as she could around my waist and nestled her head into my neck, still sobbing. In all of the time that I’d known her, I’d never seen her cry so uncontrollably, much less because of me. The sight of her grief only made the size of my regret grow. 

Wind whistled in my ears. The air grew hotter and damper, as if we were plummeting into the throat of a massive dragon. My recently torn ACL made my knee throb, though I couldn't tell if my foot was still wrapped in spiderwebs.

That damned monster Arachne. Despite having been trapped in her own webbing, smashed by a car and plunged into Tartarus, the spider lady had gotten her revenge. Somehow her silk had entangled my leg and dragged me over the side of the pit, with Allie an unwilling and undeserving participant in tow.

I couldn't imagine that Arachne was still alive, somewhere below us in the darkness. I didn't want to meet that monster again when we reached the bottom. On the bright side, assuming there was a bottom, we would probably be flattened on impact, so giant spiders were the least of our worries.

There was also the question of Allie’s Curse of Achilles. So long as she didn’t land on her mortal point on her back, would she survive? I couldn’t see how, given how large of a fall it would be, but the Greek World and all of its quirks had surprised me before. If that was the case, I’d be alright dying, so long as she could make it out alive. She could move on, but I wouldn’t ever be able to forgive myself if she died because of me. Not that I would have too long to think about it once we hit the ground, again assuming there was a ground, but still. 

I wrapped my arms around Allie and tried not to sob with her. I'd never expected my life to be easy. Most demigods died young at the hands of terrible monsters. That was the way it had been since ancient times. The Greeks invented tragedy. They knew the greatest heroes didn't get happy endings. Allie and I had been nothing but the same. The very moment I started to believe we might be able to beat our heritage, might be able to do what all those old, Greek heroes hadn’t… Well, that had been just before Allie had been kidnapped by Hera and forced us into a second Great Prophecy. 

Still, this… This wasn't fair. The past few months had been nothing short of psychological torture. Dealing with Allie’s disappearance, finding out that even if I did find her, she might not have her memory, getting chased out of the Camp that had taken her in immediately after finding her, and everything I’d done and gone through to retrieve that statue of Athena… It was all too much. And just when Malcolm and I'd succeeded, when things had been looking up and I'd been once again reunited with Allie, we had plunged to our deaths.

Even the gods couldn't devise a fate so twisted.

But Gaea wasn't like other gods. The Earth Mother was older, more vicious, more bloodthirsty. I could imagine her laughing as we fell into the depths.

The thought sent a flare of rage through my soul. Everything we’d gone through, just to die like this? All of the monsters we’d faced, not one of them would get the pleasure of the kill— just the ground. In all honesty, I couldn’t help but think, just a little petulantly, that we deserved better. Our story— crazy, chaotic, impossible as it was— and something as mundane as blunt force trauma from a fall would end it.  

There was something I knew I had to do before we made it to the bottom, though. I pressed my lips to Allie's ear. "I love you, Angel. More than anything in this life and the next."

I wasn't sure she could hear me, or if she would even process it through her tears, but if we were going to die, I wanted those to be my last words. If this was where our story ended, it would be on our terms. 

Still, Allie was always more perceptive than anyone ever gave her credit for. She reached up, fighting the wind resistance around us, and laced her hand into my hair. She still had her face buried in my neck, but I could just hear her melodic voice mumble brokenly back at me, "I love you, too.” 

I tried desperately to think of a plan to save us, but I couldn't think of any way to reverse or even slow our fall. My shoes were battered far too much to hold my own body weight, much less the both of ours. Without any water, Allie couldn’t soften our fall. 

Neither of us had the power to fly— not like Jason, or Frank, who could turn into a winged animal. If we reached the bottom at terminal velocity… Well, I knew enough science to know it would be— well— terminal.

I was seriously wondering whether we could fashion a parachute out of our shirts— that's how desperate I was— when something about our surroundings changed. The darkness took on a grey-red tinge. I realized I could see Allie's silky white curls billowing in the wind as she hugged me. The whistling in my ears turned into more of a roar. The air became intolerably hot, permeated with a smell like rotten eggs, but a million times worse.

Suddenly, the chute we'd been falling through opened into a vast cavern. Maybe a mile below us, I could see the bottom. For a moment I was too stunned to think properly. The entire island of Manhattan could have fit inside this cavern— and I couldn't even see its full extent.

Red clouds hung in the air like vaporized blood. The landscape— at least what I could see of it— was rocky black plains, punctuated by jagged mountains and fiery chasms. To my left, the ground dropped away in a series of cliffs, like colossal steps leading deeper into the abyss.

The stench of sulphur made it hard to concentrate, but I focused on the ground directly below us and saw a ribbon of glittering black liquid. My heart skipped a beat. A river. I hated to make her do it but…

Gods, we might actually survive this fall. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. 

"Allie!" I yelled in her ear, and her head perked up at the hope in my voice. "Water!"

I guided her head toward the quickly-approaching ground. Her face was hard to read in the dim red light. Tears still streamed down her face in uneven streaks. Her lips were full and red, and her pretty sea green eyes were watery. It wasn’t the time, but she looked stunning, even when she was more upset than I’d ever seen her. 

Aside from that, through the shell-shock and terror, she nodded as if she understood what I was trying to tell her.

Allie could control water— all kinds of water, across different states of matter and all. Assuming that was water below us, she might be able to cushion our fall… somehow.

She gripped my hair tightly and pressed my head into the gap between her neck and shoulder, so close to her face that I could feel her jaw clench as she tried to concentrate. I wondered if she was thinking the same things I was— the same terrible stories about the rivers of the Underworld. They could take away your memories, or burn your body and soul to ashes. 

But I decided not to think about that. This was our only chance.

The river hurtled towards us. For just a moment, I was afraid her control didn’t extend as far as we needed it to. 

At the last second, Allie yelled defiantly— a blood-curdling, heart-stopping scream that summoned goosebumps all across my body. Just before we hit the ground, the water erupted in a massive geyser and swallowed us whole.

*    *    * 

The impact didn't kill me, but the cold nearly did.

Freezing water shocked the air right out of my lungs. My limbs turned rigid, and I lost my grip on Allie. I began to sink. Strange wailing sounds filled my ears— millions of heartbroken voices, as if the river were made of distilled sadness. The voices were worse than the cold. They weighed me down and made me numb.

What's the point of struggling? they told me. You're dead anyway. You'll never leave this place. She’ll never leave this place. 

I could sink to the bottom and drown, let the river carry my body away. That would be easier.

I could just close my eyes…

Allie’s nails found my wrist and dug in once more, and it jolted me back to reality. I couldn't see her in the murky water, but just her presence was enough to remind me why we couldn’t give up. I felt the force of her kicks bringing us to the surface, and helped her as much as I could. Despite our years together, I still wasn’t the strongest swimmer. Together we kicked upward and broke the surface.

I gasped and immediately choked on the sulphurous air. Even still, the feeling of air rather than water was a relief. The water swirled around us, and I realized Allie— despite having just used up so much of her energy to soften our fall— was creating a whirlpool to buoy us up.

Though I still couldn't quite make out our surroundings in the haze, I knew this was a river. Rivers had shores.

"Land," I croaked, my voice shredded. My hair stuck to my forehead and neck uncomfortably. "Go sideways, Baby."

Allie looked near dead with exhaustion. Usually, water reinvigorated her, made her stronger, but not this water. Controlling it must have taken every bit of power in her body, much of which had already been sapped from keeping the both of us from falling for so long. I felt guilty for making her. The whirlpool began to weaken, then began to dissipate altogether. I hooked one arm around her waist and struggled across the current. The river worked against me: not just the swift current, but thousands of weeping voices whispering in my ears, getting inside my brain.

Life is nothing but despair, they said. Everything is pointless, and then you die. You have been the death of her.

"Pointless," Allie murmured, her eyes half closed. Her teeth chattered from the frigid water. Her legs, which had been weakly kicking to help push us along, stopped. Only my arm around her kept her head from going under. 

Slowly, the river began to affect her like it would a normal person. Typically, Allie was essentially water-proof to anything she touched while in any form of water unless she forced herself to be otherwise. When her clothes turned wet beneath my hand and her hair straightened from the weight of the water, I knew I had a limited amount of time to get her out of the river before things turned even more desperate than they already were. 

Panic seized my chest. "Angel! The river is messing with your mind. It's the Cocytus— the River of Lamentation. It's made of pure misery!'

Listlessly, she nodded her head in agreement. "Misery," she whimpered.

"Fight it, Baby!"

I kicked and struggled, keeping my fist tightly wrapped around Allie’s shirt trying to keep both of us afloat. Another cosmic joke for Gaea to laugh at: I die trying to keep my girlfriend, the first mortal daughter of Poseidon, from drowning. 

Not going to happen, you hag, I thought scornfully. Fuck you. 

I hugged Allie tighter to my chest and kissed her. Her lips were cold, but as soft as ever. "Come on, Baby," I demanded. "We’re gonna get out of this, just like always. Tell me… Tell me about anything. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

She made a noncommittal sound, but her eyelashes fluttered at the sound of me calling her ‘baby’, so I knew I was getting through to her. 

I was desperate for a straw to grasp. “Have you thought anymore about going back to school?” 

I was certain she hadn’t, but I remembered Allie had been considering getting a masters in film so she could try her hand at directing, back before she’d gotten taken by Hera. It had sort of been a throw away thought, I’d known that even then, but I wondered if she even remembered toying with the idea since waking up. 

Her eyebrows furrowed, then her nose scrunching followed. “Going back… to school?” 

I smiled in spite of myself at the confusion in her voice. “Yeah, didn’t you consider going back so you could direct a movie based off of one of your mom’s old notebook-stories?” 

A smile spread across her face, and it felt like a weight lifted off of my shoulders. “Oh, yeah… Mom’s old stories are too good to leave in notebooks…” 

As her eyes began to slowly clear, I started making progress against the current. My limbs felt like bags of wet sand, but Allie was helping me now. I could see the dark line of the shore about a stone's throw away.

"College," I gasped. "Think I’d get in anywhere?"

I wasn’t sure if she noticed, but her teeth were still chattering. “D- depends,” she replied. “Do you even have a high school diploma?” 

“‘Course,” I replied, then grunted when a rough current hit my back. We were so close. “Chiron signed up Camp to be accredited. Although, I’d probably have to go take the SAT or something somewhere, right? But at that point, I think it might just be easier to use the Mist on the people comparing applications.” 

Allie snorted. “Until the office of admissions is a bunch of Athena kids who wouldn’t be fooled.” 

I laughed, and the sound sent a shock wave through the water. The wailing faded to background noise. I wondered if anyone had ever laughed in Tartarus before— just a pure, simple laugh of pleasure. I doubted it. 

I used the last of my strength to reach the riverbank, where I could finally touch the ground. My feet dug into the sandy bottom. We hauled ourselves ashore, shivering and gasping, and collapsed on the dark sand.

I wanted to curl up next to Allie and go to sleep. I wanted to shut my eyes, hope all of this was just a bad dream and wake up to find myself back on the Argo II, safe with our friends (well… as safe as a demigod can ever be).

But, no. We were really in Tartarus. At our feet, the River Cocytus roared past, a flood of liquid wretchedness. The sulphurous air stung my lungs and prickled my skin. When I looked at my arms, I saw they were already covered with an angry rash. I tried to sit up and gasped in pain.

The beach wasn't sand, because of course it wouldn’t be. We were sitting on a field of jagged black-glass chips, some of which were now embedded in my palms. Allie laid there on her stomach and forearms, unaware of it. 

So the air was acid. The water was misery. The ground was broken glass. Everything here was designed to hurt and kill. I took a rattling breath and wondered if the voices in the Cocytus were right. Maybe fighting for survival was pointless. Forget making it to the doors, we would be dead within the hour.

Next to me, Allie coughed then rested her forehead on the jagged glass. "This place smells like my fucking ex-stepfather."

I tried not to grimace too deeply. I'd never met Asshole Gabe, but I'd heard enough stories and seen all there was to see of Allie Jackson. The scars spoke far more than she’d ever be able (or even want) to.

If I'd fallen into Tartarus by myself, I would have been doomed. After all I'd been through beneath Rome, finding the Athena Parthenos, this was simply too much. I would've curled up and stared at the ground until I became another ghost, melting into the Cocytus. Or, you know, just died from the fall. 

But I wasn't alone. I had Allie. And that meant I couldn't give up. I refused to let the both of us die down there when she’d already sacrificed so much, even accepted that she might die from the fall, just so I wouldn’t go alone. 

The reminder sent a wave of ice down my spine. Allie had made Nico di Angelo promise to bring the rest of the seven to the other side of the Doors of Death, but the look in her eyes… 

Without another thought, and ignoring the small stabs of pain from still laying on the ground, I reached over and tangled my hand into her still-damp white curls and used the leverage to bring her mouth to mine. She responded immediately, but pulled back slightly when she felt me wince from a deeper cut. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, her expression concerned. 

I nodded and pressed another hard kiss to her mouth. “Thank you,” I mumbled against her lips. 

She didn’t respond, but I knew when I pulled away that she knew exactly what I was thanking her for. 

I swallowed then let go of her hair and forced myself to take stock. My leg was still wrapped in its makeshift cast of board and bubble wrap, still tangled in cobwebs. But when I moved it, it didn't hurt. The ambrosia I'd eaten in the tunnels under Rome must have finally mended the tear.

My backpack was gone— lost during the fall, or maybe washed away in the river. That was rough. I knew Allie didn’t have anything on her when we fell, so we had to be careful to not get roughed up too badly, what with having no ambrosia or nectar to heal us up. Worse than that, though, was that my Celestial bronze sword was missing— the weapon I'd carried since I was eleven years old, when I first arrived at Camp. 

That sword had gotten me through some of the roughest times, had gotten me out of numerous situations. The realization that it was gone almost made me puke, but I couldn't let myself dwell on it. Hopefully, there would be time to grieve later. What else did we have? No food, no water… basically no supplies at all.

So definitely a promising start. 

I glanced at Allie. She looked pretty bad for someone who was invulnerable. Her white hair was plastered down her neck and back and the rest was reforming her usual curls as it dried. Her T-shirt (Prada, but I knew she had about three identical ones because she liked the design so much and she refused to bring unique pieces on quests for this exact reason) was practically ripped to shreds. Her hands looked fine, but the way she kept flexing them, I knew they were sore. Most worrisome of all, she was shivering and her lips were blue.

"We should keep moving or we'll get hypothermia," I told her, noticing her lips trembling again. "Can you stand?"

She nodded. We both struggled to our feet.

I hissed when her hand enclosed around my arm and her eyes widened. 

Her jaw went slack. “Gods, Luke, your arm…” she said as she ran a hand gently over the raised lines, some so deep they bled, that spanned from my elbow to wrist from her nails digging in when we’d fallen. Where she’d been holding onto my wrist over the cavern was already beginning to bruise into a gnarly purple. “I’m so sorry, Babe.” 

I flexed my hand and twisted my wrist to show her I was alright. “It’s fine, Angel,” I told her gently, using that arm to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, then pulled her in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll take this a million times over being flattened on impact.” 

She grimaced, but didn’t argue as she allowed me to continue getting us off of the ground. 

When we were standing, I put my arm around her waist, though I wasn't too sure who was supporting whom. I scanned our surroundings. Above, I saw no sign of the tunnel we'd fallen down. I couldn't even see the cavern roof— just blood-coloured clouds floating in the hazy grey air. It was like staring through a thin mix of tomato soup and cement.

The black-glass beach stretched inland about fifty yards, then dropped off the edge of a cliff. From where I stood, I couldn't see what was below, but the edge flickered with red light as if illuminated by huge fires.

A distant memory tugged at me— an old lesson from one of my earlier years at Camp. Something about Tartarus and fire. Before I could think too much about it, Allie inhaled sharply.

"Look." She pointed downstream.

A hundred feet away, a familiar-looking baby-blue Italian car had crashed headfirst into the sand. It looked just like the Fiat that had smashed into Arachne and sent her plummeting into the pit.

I hoped I was wrong, but how many Italian sports cars could there be in Tartarus? Part of me didn't want to go anywhere near it, but I had to find out. I gripped Allie's hand tightly, and we stumbled towards the wreckage. 

One of the car's tires had come off and was floating in a backwater eddy of the Cocytus. The Fiat's windows had shattered, sending brighter glass, like frosting across the dark beach. Under the crushed hood lay the tattered, glistening remains of a giant silk cocoon— the trap that Malcolm and I had tricked Arachne into weaving. It was unmistakably empty. Slash marks in the sand made a trail downriver… as if something heavy, with multiple legs, had scuttled into the darkness.

"She's alive." I was so horrified, so outraged by the unfairness of it all, I had to suppress the urge to throw up.

"It's Tartarus," Allie said, squeezing my hand. "Monster home court, right? What if, down here, they can’t be killed?” 

She gave me an embarrassed look, as if realizing she wasn't exactly helping keep team morale high. 

"Or maybe she's badly wounded, and she crawled away to die." She gave me a winning smile, as though she’d fixed her original statement. 

"Let's go with that one, Angel," I agreed, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Allie was still shivering. I wasn't feeling any warmer either, despite the hot, sticky air. The glass cuts on my hands were still bleeding, which was unusual for me. Normally, I healed fast. My breathing got more and more labored the longer we stood there.

"This place is killing us," I realized. "I mean, it's literally going to kill us, unless…"

Tartarus. Fire. That distant memory came into focus. I gazed inland towards the cliff, illuminated by flames from below.

It was an absolutely crazy idea. But it might be our only chance.

"Unless what?" Allie prompted, and I was happy to see hope sparkling in those pretty sea-green eyes again. "You've got a brilliant plan, don't you, Babe?"

"It's… certainly a plan," I murmured. "I don't know about brilliant. We need to find the River of Fire."

*    *    * 

When we reached the ledge, I was sure I'd signed our death warrants.

The cliff dropped more than eighty feet. At the bottom stretched a nightmarish version of the Grand Canyon: a river of fire cutting a path through a jagged obsidian crevasse, the glowing red current casting horrible shadows across the cliff faces.

Even from the top of the canyon, the heat was intense. The chill of the River Cocytus hadn't left my bones, but now my face felt raw and sunburnt. Every breath took more effort, as if my chest was filled with styrofoam peanuts. The cuts on my hands and arms bled more rather than less.

My torn ACL, which had almost healed, now seemed to be torn again. I'd taken off my makeshift cast, but I regretted it. Each step made me wince. I tried not to lean on Allie too much, but it was difficult when I also didn’t want to slow us down. 

Assuming we could make it down to the fiery river, which I doubted, my plan seemed certifiably insane.

"Um…" Allie examined the cliff. She pointed to a tiny fissure running diagonally from the edge to the bottom. "We can try that ledge there. Might be able to climb down."

She didn't say we'd be crazy to try. She managed to sound hopeful, even schooled her expression so I couldn’t see how terrified she seemed at the prospect. I was grateful for that, but I also worried that I was leading her to her doom. Despite the fact that when Allie had first gone for a swim in the River Styx I'd been worried about the effect it would have on her mental state, I'd never been more thankful she couldn't get physically hurt. 

Of course, if we stayed where we were, we would die anyway. Blisters had started to form on my arms from exposure to the Tartarus air and would've undoubtedly done the same to Allie if she was able to get hurt. The whole environment was about as healthy as a nuclear blast zone. I was no Athena kid, but I figured we were surrounded by what I figured the reactor at Chernobyl that had exploded had felt like in the hours afterward. 

Allie went first, and every movement she made spiked my anxiety. One bad move… I didn't want to think about it. I was certain there wouldn’t be another river for her to save us with below. 

The ledge was barely wide enough to allow a toehold. Our hands clawed for any crack in the glassy rock. Every time I put pressure on my bad leg, I wanted to yelp. I'd ripped off the sleeves of my T-shirt and used the cloth to wrap my bloody palms, but my fingers were still slippery and weak. 

A few steps below me, Allie gasped as she reached for another handhold. "So… what is this fire river called again? Flagrant, something or other?"

I understood immediately that she was trying to distract me, and let her for just a moment. "The Phlegethon," I answered. "You should really concentrate on going down, Baby, you're killing my anxiety."

"The Phlegethon?" She shimmied along the ledge. We'd made it roughly a third of the way down the cliff— still high enough up to die if I fell. "Sounds like something the writers on House of the Dragon would make up for a dragon name, if they took even more creative freedom than they already have been."

"Please don't make me laugh," I said, fighting a smile through my exhaustion. “Really, baby. You’re hilarious, but can we please get down first?” 

"Just trying to keep things—” She tried to hide a hiss as her foot slipped, but I was tuned into her every move and caught it. “— light."

"Thanks," I grunted, nearly missing a step of my own with my bad foot. "I'll have a smile on my face as I plummet to my death."

"Ooh, look at you, Mr. Sarcasm. You're learning!" Allie replied, no doubt rolling her eyes. 

We kept going, one step at a time. My eyes stung with sweat. My arms trembled. But, to my amazement, we finally made it to the bottom of the cliff.

When I reached the ground, I stumbled. Allie caught me and I was alarmed by how cold her skin felt. Not a single blemish, but she felt as cold as the dead. 

My own vision was blurry. My throat felt blistered, and my stomach was clenched tighter than a fist.

We have to hurry, I thought.

"Just to the river," I told Allie, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "Come on, Angel, we can do this."

We staggered over slick glass ledges, around massive boulders, avoiding stalagmites that would've impaled us with any slip of the foot. Our tattered clothes steamed from the heat of the river, but we kept going until we crumpled to our knees at the banks of the Phlegethon.

"We have to drink," I told her.

Allie swayed, her eyes half-closed. It took her three counts to respond. "Uh… drink fire?"

"The Phlegethon flows from Hades's realm down into Tartarus." I could barely talk. My throat was closing up from the heat and the acidic air. "The river is used to punish the wicked. But also… some legends call it the River of Healing."

"Some legends?" She managed to keep the hysteria in her tone to a minimum. But she looked even more scared than she had when scaling the massive cliff. 

I swallowed, trying to stay conscious. "The Phlegethon keeps the wicked in one piece so that they can endure the torments of the Fields of Punishment. I think… It— it might be the Underworld equivalent of ambrosia and nectar."

Allie winced as cinders sprayed from the river, curling around her face, her eyebrows still furrowed in concern. "But it's fire, Babe. How can we—-"

"Like this." I thrust my hands into the river.

Stupid? Yes, but I was convinced we had no choice. If we waited any longer, we would pass out and die. Better to try something foolish and hope it worked.

On first contact, the fire wasn't painful. It felt cold, which probably meant it was so hot it was overloading my nerves. Before I could change my mind, I cupped the fiery liquid in my palms and raised it to my mouth.

I expected a taste like gasoline. Whatever it was, it was so much worse. Once, at a restaurant back in Queens that Allie made me go to, I'd made the mistake of tasting a ghost chilli pepper that had come with a plate of Indian food. After barely nibbling it, I'd thought my respiratory system was going to implode. Drinking from the Phlegethon was like gulping down a ghost chilli smoothie. My sinuses filled with liquid flame. My mouth felt like it was being deep-fried. My eyes shed boiling tears, and every pore on my face popped. I collapsed, gagging and retching, my whole body shaking violently.

"Luke!" Allie grabbed my arms and just managed to stop me from rolling into the river.

The convulsions passed. I took a ragged breath and managed to sit up. I felt horribly weak and nauseous, but my next breath came more easily. The blisters on my arms were starting to fade.

"It worked," I croaked. "Allie, baby, you've got to drink."

"I…" Her eyes rolled up in her head, and she slumped against me.

Desperately, I cupped more fire in my palm. Ignoring the pain, I dripped the liquid into Allie's mouth. She didn't respond.

I tried again, pouring a whole handful down her throat. This time she spluttered and coughed.

I held her as she trembled, the magical fire coursing through her system. Her fever disappeared and the ice-y feeling of her arms started going back to normal. She managed to sit up and smack her lips.

"Ugh," she groaned. "Spicy, yet disgusting."

I laughed weakly. I was so relieved I felt light-headed. "Yeah. That pretty much sums it up."

She pressed a kiss to my lips, and it felt like a reward. "You saved us."

"For now," I said. "The problem is… Well, we're still in Tartarus."

Allie blinked. She looked around as if just coming to terms with where we were. "Holy shit. I never thought… Well, I'm not sure what I thought. Maybe that Tartarus was empty space, a pit with no bottom. But this is a real place."

I recalled the landscape I'd seen while we fell— a series of plateaus leading ever downwards into the gloom.

"We haven't seen all of it," I warned. "This could be just the first tiny part of the abyss, like the front steps."

"The welcome mat," Allie muttered.

We both gazed up at the blood-coloured clouds swirling in the grey haze. No way would we have the strength to climb back up that cliff, even if we wanted to. Now there were only two choices: downriver or upriver, skirting the banks of the Phlegethon.

"We'll find a way out," Allie said, and I couldn’t believe the amount of determination that her voice held. "The Doors of Death."

I shuddered. I remembered what Allie had said just before we fell into Tartarus. The promise she'd made Nico di Angelo make to lead the Argo II to Epirus, to the mortal side of the Doors of Death.

We'll see you there, Allie had practically shrieked.

That idea seemed even crazier than drinking fire. How could the two of us wander through Tartarus and find the Doors of Death? We'd barely been able to stumble a hundred yards in this poisonous place without dying.

"We have to," Allie said. "Not just for us. For everybody we love. The Doors have to be closed on both sides, or the monsters will just keep coming through. Gaea's forces will overrun the world."

I knew she was right. Still… When I tried to imagine a plan that could succeed, the logistics overwhelmed me. We had no way of locating the Doors. We didn't know how much time it would take, or even if time flowed at the same speed in Tartarus. How could we possibly synchronize a meeting with our friends? And Nico had mentioned a legion of Gaia's strongest monsters guarding the Doors on the Tartarus side. We couldn't exactly launch a frontal assault, not just the two of us.

I decided not to mention any of that. We both knew the odds were bad. Besides, after swimming in the River Cocytus, I had heard enough whining and moaning to last a lifetime.

I promised myself never to complain again.

"Well." I took a deep breath, grateful at least that my lungs didn't hurt. "If we stay close to the river, we'll have a way to heal ourselves. If we go downstream—"

It happened so fast that I would have been dead if I'd been on my own.

Allie's eyes locked on something behind me before my senses had even registered that anything was there. I spun as a massive dark shape hurtled down at me— a snarling, monstrous blob with spindly barbed legs and glinting eyes.

I reached for my sword and came up empty. The reminder that my sword was gone forever made me freeze. The sickly sweet smell overtook my senses. 

Then I heard the familiar SHINK of Allie's necklace transforming into a sword. Her blade swept over my head in a glowing bronze arc as she flipped over my shoulder. A horrible wail echoed through the canyon.

I stood there, stunned, as yellow dust— the remains of Arachne— rained around me like tree pollen.

*    *    *

previous | next

prologue.

Allie

in between the events of the Battle of the Labyrinth and the Last Olympian. 

“Allie!” I heard the voice of Thalia call after trekking through an array of frozen bushes. “What are you doing here, Moviestar?” 

“Thalia?” I asked. “Mrs. O’Leary brought me here. Took me off the set of the Marvel movie I’m going right now. I’m sure Danny’s blowing up my phone right now. Are you… following the deer, I’m assuming?” 

The deer in question was a solid gold deer that was now playing keep-away with Mrs. O’Leary. Despite my Hellhound being around three times the size of the deer, it was fast and held its own. 

“One of Lady Artemis’ sacred animals,” Thalia answered. “I figured it was an omen of some sort.” She furrowed her brows. “It’s a bit odd, us ending up at the same place at the same time, isn’t it?” 

I frowned. I didn’t want to say it, but I couldn’t say I wasn’t thinking the same thing. I loved Thalia like a sister. Although we couldn’t see each other as often since she became a Hunter of Artemis, that hadn’t changed. But… for us to suddenly be brought together, after a year of not seeing each other, it was definitely suspicious. 

“Some god messing with us, do you think?” I offered up. 

Thalia sighed in irritation. “Probably,” she bit back. “Whatever. It’s good to see you, though. How’s Luke?” 

“Protective as ever,” I replied, trying not to smile too widely. She would have called me on it immediately. “He’s spending most of his time training up the younger kids. You should see—”

Before I could finish, a cloud passed over the sun. The golden deer shimmered and disappeared, leaving Mrs. O’Leary barking at a pile of leaves. I pulled out my swords in an instant. Thalia drew her bow. Instinctively we stood back-to-back. A patch of darkness passed over the clearing and a boy tumbled out of it like he’d been tossed, landing in the grass at our feet.

“Ow,” he muttered. He brushed off his aviator’s jacket. He was about twelve years old, with dark hair, jeans, a black T-shirt, and a silver skull ring on his right hand. A sword hung at his side.

“Nico?” I said.

Thalia’s eyes widened. “Bianca’s little brother?”

Nico winced before covering it up with a scowl. Only a year had passed since Bianca had died under my and Thalia’s watch. He had since forgiven me— mostly against his will, but still— but I figured mentioning her was a bit of a store spot. 

“Why’d you bring me here?” he grumbled. “One minute I’m in a New Orleans graveyard. The next minute— is this New York? What in Hades’s name am I doing in New York?”

“We didn’t bring you here,” I promised. “We were—” A shiver went down my spine. “We were brought together. All three of us.”

“What are you talking about?” Nico demanded.

“The children of the Big Three,” I said. “Zeus, Poseidon, Hades. That can’t be a coincidence, right?”

Thalia took a sharp breath. “The prophecy. You don’t think Kronos…”

A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold, December air around me jolted my body. “I don’t know. Maybe—” 

Before I could finish my thought, the ground beneath us opened up and swallowed us whole. 

—

“‘Family spat’?” Nico cried. "You turned me into a dandelion!”

Persephone waved her hand dismissively. “That was then, this is now. As I said, demigods, I welcome you to my garden. Unfortunately, it is not under the best circumstances that I have brought you here. Still, it was necessary.” 

My eyes furrowed as I studied the goddess suspiciously. “What’s happened?” 

Persephone regarded me, and I felt like cold little flowers were blooming in my stomach. “Lord Hades has a problem,” she said. “And if you know what’s good for you, you will help him.”

“That’s reassuring,” I shot back primly. 

“In any case, I apologize for the chaos in bringing you here,” Persephone told us airily. “If it were spring, I would have been able to greet you three properly in the Aboveworld. Alas, in winter this is the best I can do.”

For as much as I knew Persephone wasn’t entirely put-off by spending half of the year in the Underworld (And as much as I loved performing as Eurydice for Hadestown, I knew the way Hades and Persephone were portrayed there wasn’t exactly accurate), I wondered if maybe she got a little tired of it sometimes. She looked so pale and out of place that I wouldn’t have been surprised if she ever wondered what it might be like to have been given the choice. 

I didn’t think she could read my mind, but her expression twisted like she could. “I would do anything for my Husband,” she said simply. “And in this case I need your help, quickly, in service of him. 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, her eyebrows raising with her. “He’s forging a new symbol of power? Without Zeus’s permission? That seems…”

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 simply. “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 sucked on the inside of her cheeks, like she wanted to say something far less hospitable than she’d thus far been. “You mean it would make Hades their equal?” she settled on. “Believe me, daughter of Zeus, the Lord of the Dead has no designs against his brothers. He knew they would never understand, 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?” I asked.

Nico made a gagging sound. “The keys of Hades?”

“Wait,” Thalia interjected. “What are the keys of Hades?”

Nico looked even paler than his stepmother. “Hades has a set of golden keys that can lock or unlock death. At least… that’s the legend.”

“It is true,” Persephone confirmed casually, as though speaking about the weather.

I raised an eyebrow. “How do you lock and unlock death?” I asked. “Is death not just… death?” 

“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.”

We were all silent. The shadowy fountain gurgled in the corner. Handmaidens floated around us, offering trays of fruit and candy that would keep us in the Underworld forever.

“Well, it’s certainly a new concept,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “I’ll give it that, I suppose.” 

Thalia snorted. “And it would make Hades unstoppable.” 

“Then you understand why I’ve brought you here,” Persephone said. “Why I need you three to help get it back.” 

I stared at her. “I’m sorry, you said ‘get it back’?” I asked incredulously. “You mean to tell me you’ve lost the control-over-the-dead sword?” 

Persephone’s eyes were beautiful and deadly serious, like poisonous blooms. “Lost? Oh, certainly not, Daughter of Poseidon. 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? That’s damn near worse than losing it! 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,” Persephone told us. “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, but she was still gritting her teeth like she wanted to sink them into the goddess’ arm. “Then what are we here for? Why can’t you get some ghosts to do your dirty work for you or something?”

“It is of utmost importance that the search for the sword remain a secret,” said the goddess. “We have locked the realm, but we have not announced why, nor can Hades’s servants be used for the search. They cannot 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 if a goddess can look nervous, she did. “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 three.”

“And… Why us specifically?” I said. “I was a little busy, you know. I do have a job outside of the Greek world, as you immortals seem to forget.” 

“You are the children of the three major gods,” Persephone replied, tactfully avoiding the mention of my job. “Who 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 Hades’s new weapon if it is given to him by their own children. It will show that you trust Hades.”

Thalia scoffed loudly. “Except for the fact that I don’t trust him.” 

“Neither do I, really,” I added. “Not enough to go out of my way to retrieve his secretive little superweapon. Nico?”

He was silent, and I knew he was lost to the cause. His fingers tapped incessantly on his Stygian Iron blade, his eyes unfocused. 

I sighed. “Come on, dude…” 

“Allie, he’s my father,” he finally said, looking at me imploringly. “Besides, I would rather the sword in his hands than Kronos’, wouldn’t you?” 

He had a point, but that didn’t mean I liked the idea any more than I did a few seconds prior. 

“There is no time to waste,” Persephone prompted. “If the quest is acceptable to you, you must hurry. The thief may have accomplices in the Underworld, and he will be looking for a way out.”

I frowned. “I thought you said the realm was locked?”

Persephone grimaced. “No prison is airtight, Astraea Jackson, 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 asked, “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,” the goddess said.

“A magical carnation compass?” I asked, trying to keep the laughter out of my voice. “Now I’ve seen everything.”

“The flower always faces the thief, yes, as your mortal compass would always point north. However, as your prey gets closer to escaping, the petals will fall off.”

Right on cue, a yellow petal turned gray and fluttered into the dirt.

“If all the petals fall off,” Persephone told us, her voice grim, “the flower dies. This means the thief has reached an exit and you have failed.”

I glanced at Thalia. She didn’t seem too enthusiastic about the whole track-a-thief-with-a-flower thing any more than I did. Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognized the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love. Who cared about being a pawn if it meant being recognized by your parent?

Nico was going to do this, with or without us. And I couldn’t let him go alone.

“One condition,” I told Persephone. “Hades will have to swear on the River Styx that he will never use this sword against the gods.”

The goddess 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.

I bit my lip. "Then, if you're acting as his messenger, you will tell him this: we will go straight to Zeus and Poseidon if he does not give me this vow before we return the sword. We will tell them we were manipulated and forced, and there will be war. Tell Hades that we will not be doing his dirty work for free." 

Persephone pursed her lips, obviously unsatisfied by the blackmail, but simply nodded stiffly. “My previous point remains.” 

Figuring that was the best I was going to get until I could face Hades himself, I turned to Thalia. “I’ll hold the flower while you beat up the thief?”

She sighed. “Fine. Let’s go catch this jerk.”

—

We’d walked for what felt like hundreds of miles and had a chat with Sisyphus before finally reaching true danger. 

“Weapons!” Thalia cried. 

Nico and I followed her order immediately. I drew Riptide, but was forced to toss the potted plant to the ground to pull Shaker out, as well.

We stood back-to-back. Thalia notched an arrow.

“What is it?” I whispered.

She seemed to be listening. Then her eyes widened. A ring of a dozen daimones materialized around us.

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, and I could detect just a smidge of fear in his voice. “Battlefield spirits. They feed on violent death.”

“Oh, that sounds peachy,” Thalia said sarcastically.

“Get back!” Nico ordered the daimones. “The son of Hades commands you!”

The Keres hissed. Their mouths foamed. They glanced apprehensively at our weapons, but I got the feeling the Keres weren’t very impressed by Nico’s command. They didn’t move forward, but they certainly didn’t back down. 

“Soon Hades will be defeated,” one of them snarled. “Our new master shall give us free rein!”

Nico blinked. “New master?”

The lead daimon 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, obviously not as interested in trying to have a conversation. Thalia dropped her bow and drew her knives. I ducked as Nico’s sword whistled over my head, cutting a daimon in half. I sliced outward with both of my swords, and three or four Keres exploded around me, but more just kept coming.

“Iapetus shall crush you!” one shouted.

I didn’t bother giving her a response. It was far more enjoyable to slice her in half, then roll forward and take another out without batting an eye. 

Nico was also cutting an arc through the Keres. His black sword absorbed their essence like a vacuum cleaner, and the more he destroyed, the colder the air became around him. Thalia flipped a daimon on its back, stabbed it, and impaled another one with her second knife without even turning around. 

Unfortunately, my flashy roll had moved me further from them both. The Keres made their move, and it was a good one. 

Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t rusty. 

For a moment, I was winning with ease. I turned and slashed and stabbed like it was second nature. Any time one got too close, Shaker or Riptide was there as an extension of my arm to take care of them for me. I’d always known it was more risky taking a second sword than using my free hand to hold a shield— but I’d never exactly been one for subtlety, and two swords allowed me to cause double the amount of destruction. 

Eventually, though, one was bound to get a lucky hit. 

“Die in pain, demigoddess!” Before I could raise my sword for defense, another daimon’s claws raked my shoulder. 

Not for the first time, I cursed Persephone for bringing me in for the quest so last minute. If I’d had enough time to grab a set of armor, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Unfortunately, I was still in my clothes from set. The thing’s talons sliced open my Miu Miu long sleeved shirt and tore into my skin. My whole left side seemed to explode in pain. I couldn’t hold back the scream that erupted from my throat. 

Nico kicked the monster away and stabbed it. All I could do was collapse to my hands and knees, trying to endure the horrible burning and keep from passing out.

The sound of battle died. Thalia and Nico rushed to my side.

“Hold still, Allie,” Thalia said. “You’ll be fine.” But the quiver in her voice and the fact that she didn’t call me ‘Moviestar’ told me the wound was worse than I thought. 

Nico touched it and I cried out again. “Nectar,” he told me, and I’d never heard his voice be so gentle. “I’m pouring nectar on it. Just hold as still as you can.”

He uncorked a bottle of the godly drink and trickled it across my shoulder. I was glad I’d never been too sensitive to the food and drinks of the gods— immediately the pain eased and the lack of a buzzing in my fingers told me I wasn’t close to combusting. Together, Nico and Thalia dressed the wound, and I passed out only a few times.

—

I couldn’t judge how much time went by, but the next thing I remember I was propped up with my back against a rock. My shoulder was bandaged.

Thalia was feeding me tiny squares of ambrosia flavored like the fresh blackberries I’d gorged myself on in Northern Ireland during filming for a few of the earlier seasons of Game of Thrones.

“The Keres?” I managed. “Did we get them all?”

“They’re gone for now,” she answered, concern still toying at her brow. “You had me worried for a second, Moviestar, but I think you’ll make it.” 

Nico crouched next to us. He was holding the potted carnation. Only five petals still clung to the flower.

“The Keres will be back,” he warned. He looked at my 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 the thought.

“I’ll be fine. Apollo still owes me one, anyways, I’m sure.” I tried to sit up and immediately felt nauseous. “Oh, shit, this may be a bit worse than I thought.” 

“A bit?” Thalia repeated incredulously. “Gods, Allie, go slow. You need rest before you can move.”

I sighed. “We don’t have enough time for me to go slow.” I looked at the carnation. “One of the daimones mentioned Iapetus. Am I remembering right? He’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?” I 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 complained.

“The half-blood working for Kronos,” I reminded her. “It’s probably Ethan Nakamura, if what Sisyphus told us can be trusted. And he’s starting to recruit some of Hades’s minions to his side— like the Keres. The daimones think that if Kronos wins the war, they’ll get more chaos and evil out of the deal.”

“They’re probably right,” Nico added. “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 this Iapetus dude,” I interjected. 

“—then the Underworld will get a lot worse,” Nico finished. “The Keres would like that. So would Melinoe.”

“You still haven’t told us who Melinoe is.”

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?”

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 bring the sword to Kronos.”

“Who would use it to raise his brothers from Tartarus,” I guessed. “And then we’d be really fucked.”

I grit my teeth, then struggled to my feet. A wave of nausea almost made me fall back to the ground, but Thalia was there to grab me before I blacked out.

“Allie,” she hissed, “you’re in no condition—”

“I have to be.” I watched as another petal withered and fell off the carnation. Four left before doomsday. “Give me the potted plant. We have to find the cave of Melinoe before they can leave.”

—

As we walked, I tried to think about anything that would take my mind off of the pain. Even the thought of a probably very pissed off Danny due to me rushing off set was a more welcome distraction. I’d tossed out the idea of practicing my lines, which is what my manager would have wanted me to do, when thinking about them just made the pain in my shoulder throb worse.

Instead, I tried to think more positively. Thinking about Luke worked for a while, until I realized that the second he heard about this little excursion and how badly I’d been injured, he was going to flip his shit. Then, I thought about the football player that had essentially asked me out publicly in his post-game interview the previous weekend, which was as horrifying as it was absurd, considering I’d never met the guy, but that brought me back to Luke, who was sure to give me an earful the next time I saw him. 

Maybe thinking about Luke was the right move. My musings about him were only sometimes interrupted by the unbearable, scorching pain in my shoulder. Still, even thoughts of him were sometimes paused so I could curse myself for letting my guard down. How stupid was I? Gods, I would be useless in a fight, and who knew how much worse the pain was going to get. Already, I could feel it spreading from my shoulder down my arms and to my side. If it got to my legs, would I even be able to walk? 

I tried to hold back a groan of frustration. I hated leaving Thalia and Nico to pick up my slack and drag me through the rest of the mission. 

I was so busy feeling sorry for myself, I didn’t notice the sound of roaring water until Nico said, “Uh-oh.”

About fifty feet ahead of us, a dark river churned through a gorge of volcanic rock. I’d seen the Styx, and this didn’t look like the same river. It was narrow and fast. The water was black as ink. Even the foam churned black. The far bank was only thirty feet across, but that 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. I hadn’t considered that the Underworld might have an ending, but this appeared to be it.

“Is there… not a way across?” I asked. “Seems a bit of an oversight, no?” 

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.”

I wondered if Nico was talking from his knowledge as a Son of Hades, or the fact that he’d been to the river before himself. 

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. It would probably work if this was one of your movies, Allie, 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.”

I winced. “What kind of fucked up, stupid rule is that?”

“Hey, I didn’t come up with it.” He studied my face. “You look terrible, Allie. Come on, you need to sit down.”

I shook off his hand from my arm, and squared my shoulders, shuddering at the roll of pain that shot down to my feet. “I’m fine. Besides, unfortunately for all of us, I’m the only one of us three who has the particular skill set for this.”

“For what?” Thalia asked, her eyes wide. “Allie, you can barely stand.”

I shrugged, then cursed at myself for doing so. “I mean, it's water, isn’t it? At, like, its roots, or whatever. I can control water, I can, um, maybe control this. Or, well, I’ll have to control it. Maybe I can redirect the flow long enough to get us across.”

“No. No way. In your condition?” Nico said, and his tone reminded me an awful lot of Luke whenever his protective instinct kicked in. “Absolutely not. I’d feel safer with the arrow idea. Besides, even as a Daughter of Poseidon, I seriously doubt you have control over—”

I stumbled to the edge of the river.

I didn’t know if I could do this, Nico was right. I was the Daughter of Poseidon, so my vein of control should have stopped at salty ocean water. Despite that, I tended to be able to control various forms of water— rivers, lakes, the occasional glass of water if I was being particularly lazy— with ease. Some might have been more difficult than others, but I was still able to do it. 

This was different, though. An Underworld river wasn’t just water it was… Well, whatever the opposite of sugar, spice, and everything nice was, I was sure. 

I took in a deep breath through my nose and held it for a moment before letting it out through my mouth. “Just… stand back, alright?” I said. “We’ll never know if I don’t try. And it’s not like we have any better ideas.”

I’d always felt my most powerful near a body of water. The human body was mostly water, anyways, but I almost felt like mine was even more so. Water didn’t just flow through my veins— it sat restless in my soul. 

I swallowed hard and tried concentrating on the current— inky black and rushing past though it was. As I concentrated, it was like I couldn’t even feel the pain in my shoulder anymore. The current was responding to my will, following my commands. It was a part of me, it understood my presence. 

There was no way I’d be able to stop the current in its entirety. It was far too large and far too untamed for me to even consider trying given my state. Besides, as I’d always said, water didn’t like to be tamed. I would likely only cause more destruction than I wanted to. Still, I knew of another way. 

I grit my teeth, trying to psyche myself up. “Okay, here goes nothing.” 

The pain in my shoulder flared up as I raised my arms above my head. It was so severe, it was beginning to make me feel nauseous, but I tried to swallow the bile building up in the back of my throat. I needed to concentrate. We had to get across. 

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 us turned to drying mud, a tunnel under the river just wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

Thalia and Nico stared at me in amazement.

“Allie,” Nico said, his voice oddly quiet and even more awed. “How…?” 

“Go,” I gasped out. “I won’t be able to hold this for long.”

Black spots danced in front of my eyes. My wounded shoulder nearly screamed in pain. Thalia and Nico scrambled into the riverbed and made their way across the sticky mud.

Not a single drop. I can’t let a single drop of water touch them.

The River Lethe fought me. It didn’t want to be forced out of its banks. It wanted to crash down on my friends, wipe their minds clean, and drown them. But I held the arc. Something about it, though it exhausted me, also felt… I wasn’t sure I could describe it. For a moment, my fingers tingled. At first, I thought it was the same feeling I got when I got close to eating too much ambrosia. Then I realized it was simply raw power pulsing from my very soul out to my hands. 

Thalia climbed the opposite bank and turned to help Nico.

“Come on, Moviestar!” she called. “You need to walk across now!”

My knees were shaking. My arms trembled. I took a step forward and almost fell. The water arc quivered.

“I don’t think I can make it,” I tried calling, but my voice came out more wobbly than I cared to admit.

“Yes, you can!” Thalia implored. “We need you, Allie! You’ll be fine.”

A small whimper left my mouth as I tried making my way down to the riverbed. It was all I could do to stay concentrated on keeping the water arc steady above my head. One step after another. 

There was only a second that I thought I might actually have a chance at making it. 

Then, my foot slipped. 

The last thing I heard before the black water crashed on top of my head was Thalia screaming, “NO!” 

—

I would never admit it to anyone, but almost a full minute passed where the panic made me think that I truly had gotten my memories wiped. 

As the powerful current flowed back on its regular course, I laid at the bottom of the river, entirely dry. It was something that naturally happened when I was in contact with water, but even though I’d been able to control the river, I wasn’t sure that that specific power would kick in when I needed it most. 

I opened my eyes. I was surrounded in darkness, but my heat sensitive eyes allowed me to make the faintest of shadows at the edge of the shore— Thalia and Nico. 

If I’d been able to think about anything but my pain and exhaustion, I would have cried out at how worried they probably were. I struggled to my feet. Even this small effort to stay dry— something that was second nature in normal water— was almost more than I could handle. I slogged forward through the black current, blind and doubled over with pain. My arm spasmed with every flare of the searing injury. 

I crawled out of the River Lethe, and could just barely hear Thalia and Nico asking me all sorts of questions over the roaring in my ears. Unfortunately, I seemed to have overstayed my welcome in the waking world. I only got about two feet from the shore of the Lethe before I was out cold.

***  

The taste of nectar brought me around. My shoulder felt better, but I had an uncomfortable buzz in my ears. My eyes felt hot, like I had a fever.

“We can’t risk any more nectar,” Thalia was saying, her voice trembling out of worry. “It’s Allie, but I’m afraid even she’ll burst into flames.” She paused. “She was dry, though… Do you think—?”

“We won’t know until she wakes up,” Nico said, and even his voice seemed tighter than usual. “But the Lethe is…” 

“Powerful?” I interjected, laughing as the two jumped then immediately doubled over in a coughing fit. “Yeah, I got that part. Fully understood.” 

My voice was a little choppy, but the relief on both of my cousins’ faces meant I couldn’t keep from giving another small laugh. I sat up slowly. My shoulder was newly bandaged. It still hurt like hell, but I was able to stand.

“You, um,” Thalia started. She looked a little uncomfortable. “Do you, you know… Remember?”

I snorted. “Thalia, I fear I would have already started screaming bloody murder if I had you two whacko’s standing over me with a bunch of deadly weapons and didn’t know who you were, or who I was.” 

She laughed, but I could see the relief in her eyes. “Fair play, Moviestar.” 

“We’re close,” Nico said, changing the topic even though he, too, looked super relieved. “Can you walk?”

The mountain loomed above us. A dusty trail snaked up a few hundred feet to the mouth of a cave. The path was lined with human bones for that extra cozy feel.

I squared my shoulders and pushed myself to my feet. I wobbled on my ankles for a moment before steadying. “I’ll be fine,” I answered. “Let’s get this over with.” 

“I don’t like this,” Thalia murmured. She cradled the carnation, which was pointing toward the cave. The flower now had two petals left, like very sad bunny ears.

“Neither do I,” I replied. “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. I could see right through her, so I knew she was a spirit of some kind, but her voice sounded real enough. And I knew exactly who the woman resembled. Danny had used her as a cautionary tale for my job often enough. 

“Now you come back,” she growled. “Well, it’s too late!”

I looked at Nico and whispered, “Wait, is this Melinoe? Why does she look like—?”

“Ungratful, monstrous child!” the ghost cried. “You disappoint me.” 

Nico couldn’t answer me. He stood frozen, staring at the spirit. 

Thalia lowered her bow. “Mother?” Her eyes teared up as she stared at the ghost. Suddenly she looked about seven years old.

The spirit threw down her wineglass. It shattered and dissolved into the fog.

“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,” I said, stepping to her side. “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 stuttered. “I didn’t—” 

“You wretched girl! Ungrateful runaway!”

The shade shimmered and changed shape, this time much harder to see. She was a woman in an old-fashioned black velvet dress with a matching hat. She wore a string of pearls and white gloves, and her dark hair was tied back.

Nico stopped in his tracks. “No…”

“My son,” the ghost crooned. “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, as if she still saw the first image.

My friends were helpless. The fog began thickening around their feet, twining around their legs like vines. The colors seemed to fade from their clothes and faces, as if they too were becoming shades.

“Enough,” I said, but my voice was barely more than a whisper. Despite the pain, I lifted my swords and stepped toward the ghost. “Show us your true form!”

The ghost turned toward me. The image flickered, and I couldn’t quite determine what the shade was trying to embody before it settled on the goddess as she was.

You’d think after a while I would stop getting freaked out by the appearance of Greek spirits, but Melinoe caught me by surprise. Her right half was pale chalky white, like she’d been drained of blood. Her left half was pitch-black and hardened, like mummy skin. She wore a golden dress and a golden shawl. Her eyes were empty black voids, and when I looked into them, I felt as if I were seeing my own death.

“Where are your ghosts?” she demanded in irritation.

I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure of how to respond before I landed on sarcasm. “My ghosts? I’m not sure, I must have left them at home. This was a little bit of a last-minute excursion, you see.”

She snarled. “Everyone has ghosts, silly girl— deaths you regret. Guilt. Fear. Why can I not see yours?”

Thalia and Nico were still entranced, staring at the goddess as if she were their long-lost mothers. I thought about other friends I’d seen die— Bianca di Angelo, Brylie Vegas, Zoë Nightshade, Lee Fletcher. So many who had died in the name of fighting for a better world. I thought of my mother, who had died at the hands of her abusive husband— the man she’d married to protect me. But I’d allowed myself relief from the guilt of her death long ago. 

I realized in that moment why the goddess could not affect me as she did Thalia and Nico.

I swallowed hard.  “I’ve made my peace with them,” I said simply. “They’ve passed on. They’re not ghosts, they still live within my memories of them. Now, let my friends go!”

I slashed at Melinoe with my swords. She backed up quickly, growling in frustration. The fog dissipated around my friends. They stood blinking at the goddess as if they were just seeing how hideous she was.

“What is that?” Thalia cried. “Where—”

“It was a trick,” Nico said, his eyes wide. “She fooled us.”

“You are too late, demigods,” Melinoe shrieked. Another petal fell off my carnation, leaving only one. “The deal has been struck.”

“What deal?” I demanded.

Melinoe made a hissing sound, and I realized it was her way of laughing. “So many ghosts, my pretty demigoddess. 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?” I asked. “Where’s Ethan?”

“Close,” Melinoe promised. “I will not stop you. I will not need to. Soon, Astraea Jackson, you will have many ghosts. And you will remember me, and you will never remember true peace.”

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.

I could tell she was really shaken up. Her eyes were rimmed with red. Her hands trembled. Nico looked just as stunned, like someone had smacked him between the eyes.

“The thief…” he managed, his voice strained. “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,” I said dejectedly.

A man’s laughter echoed down the mountain.

“You’re right about that,” a voice boomed. At the mouth of the cave stood two people— a boy with an eye patch and ten-foot-tall man in a tattered prison jumpsuit. The boy I recognized: Ethan Nakamura, son of Nemesis. In his 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 I’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. I 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.”

To his credit, he tried not to look too offended. “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. “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 me and charged.

If he’d been at full strength, I had no doubt he would’ve pierced me right through the middle. Even weakened and just out of the pit, the guy was fast. He moved like a tornado, slashing so quickly I barely had time to dodge the strike before his spear impaled the rock where I’d been standing.

I was so dizzy I could barely hold my swords. Iapetus yanked the spear out of the ground, but as he turned to face me, Thalia shot his flank full of arrows, from his shoulder to his knee. He roared and turned on her, looking more angry than wounded. Ethan Nakamura 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 him, pushing him back. The sword of Hades still lay on the rocks. If I could only get to it… 

Iapetus slashed with his spear and Thalia leaped out of the way. She dropped her bow so she could draw her knives, but she wouldn’t last long in close combat, after a year as the lieutenant of the Hunters of Artemis, it was obvious Thalia’s skill had shifted in favor of a bow and arrows.

Nico left Ethan to the skeletons and charged Iapetus. I was already ahead of him. It felt like my shoulder was going to tear free from the rest of my body, but I lunged myself at the Titan and stabbed downward with Riptide, impaling the blade in the Titan’s calf.

“AHHHH!” Golden ichor gushed from the wound. Iapetus whirled and the shaft of his spear slammed into me, sending me flying.

I crashed into the rocks, right next to the River Lethe.

“YOU DIE FIRST, DAUGHTER OF POSEIDON!” Iapetus roared as he hobbled toward me. 

Thalia tried to get his attention by zapping him with an arc of electricity from her knives, but she might as well have been an annoying bee. Nico stabbed with his sword, but Iapetus knocked him aside without even looking.

“I will kill you all! Then I will cast your souls into the eternal darkness of Tartarus!”

My eyes were full of spots. I could barely move. Another inch and I would fall into the river headfirst.

The river… 

I swallowed, hoping my voice still worked. “You’re— you’re even uglier than your son,” I taunted the Titan, barely able to keep the power in the words. “I can see where Atlas gets his stupidity from. Maybe if he’d been smarter, he wouldn’t have been tricked into holding the sky again.”

Iapetus snarled. He limped forward, raising his spear.

I didn’t know if I would have the strength, but I knew I had to try. Iapetus brought down the spear and I lurched sideways. The shaft impaled the ground right next to me. I reached up and grabbed his shirt collar, counting on the fact that he was off balance as well as hurt. He tried to regain his footing, but I pulled him forward with all my body weight. 

He stumbled and fell, grabbing my arms in a panic, and together we pitched into the Lethe.

—

Unlike the last time, panic did not overwhelm me. 

The pain in my shoulder still made it difficult to concentrate, but I felt more connected to the water than the previous dunk. The tips of my fingers tingled once more. 

I still had the Titan by the shirt collar and still knew my name. That was all that mattered. 

The current should’ve ripped him out of my hands, but somehow the river was channeling itself around me, leaving us alone.

With my last bit of strength, I climbed out of the river, dragging Iapetus with my good arm. We collapsed on the riverbank— me perfectly dry, the Titan dripping wet. His pure silver eyes were as big as moons.

Thalia and Nico stood over me in amazement. Up by the cave, Ethan Nakamura was just cutting down the last skeleton. He turned and froze when he saw his Titan ally spread-eagle on the ground, with me crouched above him. The sight should have been familiar to him. 

“My— my lord?” he called.

Iapetus sat up and stared at him. Then he looked at me and smiled. “Hello,” he said. “Who am I?”

Without thinking, I blurted out, “You’re my friend!” I forced a smile onto my face and tried to ignore the incredulous looks on the faces of the demigods around me. “You’re… Bob.”

That seemed to please him greatly. “I am your friend Bob!”

Clearly, Ethan could tell things were not going his way. He glanced at the sword of Hades lying in the dirt, but before he could lunge for it, a silver arrow sprouted in the ground at his feet.

“Not today, kid,” Thalia warned. “One more step and I’ll pin your feet to the rocks. And trust me, I’m not as merciful to traitorous demigods as Ms. Moviestar seems to be.”

Ethan ran— straight into the cave of Melinoe. Another coward’s decision. 

Thalia took aim at his back, but I said, “No. Let him go.”

She frowned but lowered her bow.

I wasn’t sure why I wanted to spare Ethan again. I wanted to say it was because we’d had enough fighting for one day, and I didn’t want anymore death to follow us. In truth, though, I felt sorry for the kid. He would be in enough trouble when he reported back to Kronos. There would be plenty more on his plate than we could deal. 

Nico picked up the sword of Hades reverently, his eyes practically glazed over. “We did it. We actually did it.”

“We did?” Iapetus asked.

I managed a weak smile and an even weaker nod. 

His wide eyes looked up at me imploringly. It was almost like a child asking for sweets. “Did I help?”

I placed a hand on his arm. “Yeah, Bob. You did great.”

—

We 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 us back. They weren’t thrilled about lugging Bob the Titan too, but I didn’t have the heart to leave him behind, especially after he noticed my shoulder wound, said, “Owie,” and healed it with a touch.

Anyway, by the time we arrived in the throne room of Hades, I was feeling great and ready to make a deal with the Devil. 

The lord of the dead sat on his throne of bones, glowering at us and stroking his black beard like he was contemplating the best way to torture us. Persephone sat next to him, not saying a word, as Nico explained our adventure to him.

Before we gave back the sword, I insisted that Hades take an oath not to use it against the gods. His eyes flared like he wanted to incinerate me, but finally he made the promise through clenched teeth. I made sure to word the vow in a way that would make the sword essentially useless for anything other than continuing the work that the Key of Hades had already been doing. He seemed even less pleased by that.

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.”

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about, but Persephone didn’t react, not a single twitch in her expression, even under his withering 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.

The god glared at me.

“And if your friends do not hold their tongues, I will cut them out.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. Then, with a bit more than a little scorn, "Uncle." 

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, and I wondered how soon I would be regretting this day. There were ways around oaths, and I imagined Hades would be looking for one, no matter how airtight I made it.

“You are wise, my lord,” Persephone simpered.

“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 he snapped his fingers and vanished into darkness.

Persephone looked even paler than usual. She took a moment to smooth her dress, then turned toward us, her expression schooled. “You have done well, demigods.” She waved her hand and three red roses appeared at our 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.

But I was on an entirely different plane of thinking. “Making the sword was your idea,” I realized. “That’s why Hades wasn’t there when you gave us the quest. Hades didn’t know the sword was missing, because he didn’t even know it existed.”

“Nonsense,” the goddess said airily, but I finally found the crack in her otherwise neutral exterior. She looked frightened at my figuring it out. 

Nico clenched his fists. “Wait… Allie’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 continued. “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,” I said miserably. Even as I agreed that I would still prefer the sword in the possession of Hades over Kronos, I couldn’t say that it was too much of a win. 

“You’ve been very helpful,” Persephone agreed. “Perhaps a reward for your silence—”

“Get the fuck out,” I demanded, “before I carry you down to the Lethe and throw you in myself. Bob will help me. Won’t you, Bob?”

“Bob will help you!” Iapetus agreed cheerfully.

Persephone’s eyes widened, and she disappeared in a shower of daisies. Nico, Thalia, and I said our good-byes on a balcony overlooking Asphodel. Bob the Titan sat inside, building a toy house out of bones and laughing every time it collapsed.

“I’ll watch him,” Nico told me. “He’s harmless now. Maybe… I don’t know. Maybe we can retrain him to do something good. It would be nice to have a Titan on our side given… what’s coming.”

I nodded. “I don’t know if I would want him out fighting in case he sees one of his brothers and remembers who he is, but… You might be right,” I replied. “Are you sure you want to stay here? Persephone will make your life miserable.” 

“I have to,” he insisted. “I have to get close to my dad. He needs a better adviser.” 

I couldn’t argue with that. “Well, if you need anything—” 

“I’ll call,” he promised. He shook hands with Thalia and me. He turned to leave, but he looked at me one more time. “Allie, you haven’t forgotten my offer?” 

A shiver went down my spine. I bit the inside of my cheek as I answered vaguely, “I’m still thinking about it.” 

Nico nodded. “Well, whenever you’re ready.” 

After he was gone, Thalia said, “What offer?” 

“Something he told me last summer,” I said, waving her off in a way that I hoped wasn’t obviously uncomfortable. “Just… a possible way to fight Kronos. But it’s crazy dangerous and even more insane. I don’t want to think about it right now. I’ve had enough danger for one day.” 

Thalia nodded. “Fair,” she replied. “Hey, at least you don’t have to call in a favor to Apollo, right? You up for dinner?” 

I couldn’t help but smile. “After all that, you’re hungry?” 

“Hey,” she said, “even immortals have to eat. I’m thinking cheeseburgers at… 4 Charles?” 

I snorted. “We don’t have reservations for 4 Charles, how are you expecting to get in?” 

She raised an eyebrow at me. “You, Allie Jackson, world-famous A-List actress, singer, model, broadway star, etc., etc. can’t just walk into exclusive restaurants whenever she wants? Literally what is your fame for, if not that?” 

I sighed. “Let me make a phone call,” I said begrudgingly. 

And together we crushed the roses that would return us to the world. 

—

The cold nipped at my nose the second my feet were back on snow-covered ground. 

“You do realize that this won’t work every time, right?” I asked Thalia once I could tell she’d regained her bearings. “I can’t just make restaurants cancel other people’s reservations just because you want a Wagyu hamburger.” 

Thalia shrugged. “Then I ask again, what exactly is your fame even good for in that case?” 

I tossed her a look as I powered my phone back on. It had been completely off since I’d followed after Mrs. O’Leary. I knew Danny would be pissed that I’d flaked out on a day I was supposed to be on set, so I’d decided to cross that bridge… later. 

“Okay, well, first of all, the whole ‘fame’ thing was just a side effect of my job, not something that— oh shit. Oh, fuck, I’m so fucking dead.” 

Thalia stopped and turned from where she’d been surveying the area. “What?” When I didn’t answer immediately, she speed-walked over to me to look at my phone screen herself. “Allie, what?” 

I read from my phone, “‘38 missed calls from fuckass danny, 72 messages from fuckass danny’.” 

“Jesus, Moviestar,” Thalia said. 

“It gets worse,” I told her. 

Her eyes widened. “What’s worse than your manager?” She squinted her eyes at the screen, my lockscreen a picture of the New York skyline that I took years ago. “‘One missed call from babe.’ Woah, who’s babe? Hold on, is that a fucking ‘less than three’ heart? Who the hell is babe <3?” 

I closed my eyes, as though coming to terms with how numbered my hours were. “It’s Luke.”

“Allie— wait. Only… one missed call?” 

I nodded silently. 

“Oh, you’re fucked.”

*    *    *

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2.1 Fall in Love. Fall in Love Again and Again, Fall in Love Again and Again, Fall in Love Again and Again, Fall in Love Again and Again, Fall—

Luke

At first, I thought I’d hit such a point of no return that I’d begun to hallucinate Allie’s face. 

As the roof of the cavern collapsed, sunlight blinded me. I got the briefest glimpse of the Argo II hovering above. It must have used its ballistae to blast a hole straight through the ground.

Chunks of asphalt as big as garage doors tumbled down, along with six or seven Italian cars. One would've crushed the Athena Parthenos, but the statue's glowing aura acted like a force field, and the car bounced off. Unfortunately, it fell straight toward me.

I jumped to one side, twisting my bad leg. A wave of agony almost made me pass out, but I flipped on my back in time to see a bright red Fiat 500 slam into Arachne's silk trap, punching through the cavern floor and disappearing with the Chinese Spidercuffs.

As Arachne fell, she screamed like a freight train on a collision course, but her wailing rapidly faded. All around Malcolm and me, more chunks of debris slammed through the floor, riddling it with holes.

The Athena Parthenos remained undamaged, though the marble under its pedestal was a starburst of fractures. I was covered in cobwebs. I trailed strands of leftover spider silk from my arms and legs like the strings of a marionette, but somehow, amazingly, none of the debris had hit us.

Malcolm laughed out of sheer shock.

The army of spiders had disappeared. Either they had fled back into the darkness, or they'd fallen into the chasm. As daylight flooded the cavern, Arachne's tapestries along the walls crumbled to dust, which I could hardly bear to watch— especially the tapestry depicting me and Allie.

But none of that mattered when I heard Allie's voice from above: "Luke!"

"Here!" I yelled. “I’m here, Angel!” 

Her voice was a balm on every bit of torture I’d endured over the past hours. All the terror seemed to leave me in one massive yelp. As the Argo II descended, I saw Allie leaning over the rail, silky white curls billowing behind her. Her smile was better than any tapestry I'd ever seen, and she was prettier than any goddess.

The room kept shaking, but I managed to stand. The floor at my feet seemed stable for the moment. Both mine and Malcolm’s backpacks were missing, along with Daedalus's laptop. My sword, which I'd had since my first day at camp, was also gone— probably fallen into the pit. But I didn't care. I was alive. And Allie was there. 

I edged closer to the gaping hole made by the Fiat 500. Jagged rock walls plunged into the darkness as far as I could see. A few small ledges jutted out here and there, but I saw nothing on them— just strands of spider silk dripping over the sides like Christmas tinsel.

I wondered if Arachne had told the truth about the chasm. Had the spider fallen all the way to Tartarus? My gut impulse was to say yes— it felt just as it had when I’d almost been pulled in a few years prior. A small part of me felt upset to have seen her tapestries fall with her, but I couldn’t help but feel vindicated. The terror she’d put Malcolm and I through, Tartarus was where she belonged. 

I was dimly aware of the Argo II hovering to a stop about forty feet from the floor. It lowered a rope ladder, but I stood in a daze, staring into the darkness. Then suddenly Allie was next to me, lacing her fingers in mine.

She gave a contemplative look over the edge of the chasm, then turned me gently away from it. As soon as we were on steady ground, she wrapped her arms around me. I buried my face in her hair and broke down in tears.

"It's okay," she said, her voice breathless and melodic. "We're together, Baby. I love you."

She didn't say you're okay, or we're alive. After all we'd been through over the last year, she knew the most important thing was that we were together. I loved her for saying that, and told her that with my lips pressed to her ear.

Our friends gathered around us. Nico di Angelo was there, but my thoughts were so fuzzy, that didn't seem surprising to me. It seemed only right that he would be with us.

"Your legs." Piper knelt next to Malcolm and examined the Bubble Wrap cast. "Oh, gods, what happened?"

Malcolm and I started to explain. Talking was difficult, but as we went along, the words came more easily.

Allie’s hand stayed on the back of my head, her thumb rubbing soothing circles there, which also made me feel more confident. When we finished, our friends' faces were slack with amazement.

"Gods of Olympus," Jason said. "You did all that. With a broken ankle and a torn ACL."

"Well… some of it with a torn ACL."

Allie grinned. "You made Arachne weave her own trap? I knew you two were good, but holy fuck— Luke, Malcolm, you did it. Generations of Athena and Hermes kids tried and failed. You found the Athena Parthenos!"

Everyone gazed at the statue. 

"What do we do with her?" Frank asked. "She's huge."

"We'll have to take her with us to Greece," I said. "The statue is powerful. Something about it will help us stop the giants."

"’The giants' bane stands gold and pale’," Hazel quoted. "’Won with pain from a woven jail’." She looked at me with admiration. "It was Arachne's jail. You tricked her into weaving it."

With a lot of pain, I thought.

Leo raised his hands. He made a finger picture frame around the Athena Parthenos like he was taking measurements. "Well, it might take some rearranging, but I think we can fit her through the bay doors in the stable. If she sticks out the end, I might have to wrap a flag around her feet or something."

I shuddered. I imagined the Athena Parthenos jutting from their trireme with a sign across her pedestal that read: WIDE LOAD.

Then I thought about the other lines of the prophecy: The twins snuff out the angel's breath, who holds the keys to endless death.

"What about you guys?" I asked. "What happened with the giants?"

Allie told me about rescuing Nico, the appearance of Bacchus, and the fight with the twins in the Colosseum. Nico didn't say much. The poor guy looked like he'd been wandering through a wasteland for six weeks. Allie’s expression was oddly blank as she explained what Nico had found out about the Doors of Death, and how they had to be closed on both sides. Even with sunlight streaming in from above, her news made the cavern seem dark again.

I nodded. "So the mortal side is in Epirus," I said. "At least that's somewhere we can reach."

Nico grimaced. "But the other side is the problem. Tartarus."

The word seemed to echo through the chamber. The pit behind us exhaled a cold blast of air.

That's when I knew with certainty. The chasm did go straight to the Underworld.

Allie must have felt it too. She swallowed harshly, then guided me a little farther from the edge. I wished I had my sword to cut that spider silk off. I almost asked Allie to do the honors with Riptide or Shaker, but before I could, she said, "Bacchus mentioned something about my voyage being harder than I expected. Not sure what the hell he was on abou—"

The chamber groaned. The Athena Parthenos tilted to one side. Its head caught on one of Arachne's support cables, but the marble foundation under the pedestal was crumbling.

Nausea swelled in my chest. If the statue fell into the chasm, all our work would be for nothing.

Our quest would fail.

"Secure it!" Malcolm cried.

My friends understood immediately.

"Zhang!" Leo cried. "Get me to the helm, quick! The coach is up there alone."

Frank transformed into a giant eagle, and the two of them soared toward the ship.

Jason wrapped his arm around Piper and grabbed Malcolm by the wrist. 

He turned to Allie. "Back for you guys in a sec." He summoned the wind and shot into the air.

"This floor won't last!" Hazel warned. "The rest of us should get to the ladder."

Plumes of dust and cobwebs blasted from holes in the floor. The spider's silk support cables trembled like massive guitar strings and began to snap. Hazel lunged for the bottom of the rope ladder and gestured for Nico to follow, but Nico was in no condition to sprint.

Allie released a shaky breath, her eyes darting around like she was trying to figure out where she would need to jump if the floor started falling through. "It'll be fine," she muttered, her nails digging into the back of my hand. “Just stay still. We’ll be alright.”

Looking up, I saw grappling lines shoot from the Argo II and wrap around the statue. One lassoed Athena's neck like a noose. Leo shouted orders from the helm as Jason and Frank flew frantically from line to line, trying to secure them.

Nico had just reached the ladder when a sharp pain shot up my bad leg. I gasped and stumbled.

"What is it?" Allie asked frantically, her entire body jerking in a way that I didn’t realize was due to me until it was too late.

I tried to stagger toward the ladder. Why was I moving backward instead? My legs swept out from under me and I caught myself on my arms, Allie’s hand falling from mine.

"His ankle!" Hazel shouted from the ladder. "Cut it! Cut it!"

My mind was woolly from the pain. Cut my ankle?

Apparently, Allie didn't realize what Hazel meant either until a tenth of a second too late. Shaker was drawn out of impulse, but something yanked me backward and dragged me toward the pit. Allie lunged, and I could tell from the panic on her face and the way she flung her sword to the side that all she cared about was grabbing a hold of me. 

There were a few certain truths in the world: death, taxes, and the innate stubbornness that resided in Allie Jackson. Unfortunately, no matter how strong and beautifully stubborn she was, her thin stature was no match for gravity. Even if I hadn’t been getting dragged, my momentum would have carried her regardless, the second she grabbed my arms.

"Help them!" Hazel screamed.

I glimpsed Nico hobbling in our direction, Hazel trying to disentangle her cavalry sword from the rope ladder. Our other friends were still focused on the statue, and Hazel's cry was lost in the general shouting and the rumbling of the cavern. Allie’s beautiful face was scrunched up in her struggle to fight against the pull, the sun above casting a golden halo around her. I’d always called her my angel— and she’d saved me from certain death enough times to fit the nickname to fit a hundred times over— but it was something else to see it in action. 

But she couldn’t find anything to stop the pull of Tartarus. With another jerk, the two of us were sliding closer to the edge. 

I cussed as I hit the edge of the pit. My legs went over the side. Too late, I realized what was happening: I was tangled in the spider silk. I should have cut it away immediately. I had thought it was just a loose line, but with the entire floor covered in cobwebs, I hadn't noticed that one of the strands was wrapped around my foot— and the other end went straight into the pit. It was attached to something heavy down in the darkness, something that was pulling me in.

"No," Allie muttered, light dawning in her eyes. "My sword…"

But Shaker had landed out of reach. Riptide hung in necklace form around her neck, as always, but she couldn’t summon the sword without letting go of my arm. My strength was gone. Her pretty sea green eyes searched frantically for something that might help us, but there was nothing.

I slipped over the edge. 

Allie fell with me. 

I heard her scream as she lost the ground. 

My body slammed into something. I must have blacked out briefly from the pain. When I could see again, I realized that I'd fallen partway into the pit and was dangling over the void. 

Allie had managed to dig her nails into a ledge about fifteen feet below the top of the chasm. She was holding on with one hand, gripping my wrist with the other with every bit of strength in her body, but the pull on my leg was much too strong and Allie may have been tall, but she was tiny. She wouldn't be able to fight gravity for long. 

She snarled like an animal for a moment, trying to use her feet to kick through the rock and make a foothold to lessen the pressure on her body, but the wall wouldn’t give. I heard her panting through the exertion as she came to the realization that it wasn’t working. 

“No,” she mumbled, mostly to herself. “Fuck, please, no.” 

No escape, said a voice in the darkness below. I go to Tartarus, and you will come too.

I wasn't sure if I actually heard Arachne's voice or if it was just in my mind.

The pit shook. Allie was the only thing keeping me from falling. She was barely holding on to a ledge the size of a bookshelf, and I was positive if she didn't have the curse of Achilles, her shoulder would've been dislocated and all of her fingers torn and broken.

Nico leaned over the edge of the chasm, thrusting out his hand, but he was much too far away to help. Hazel was yelling for the others, but even if they heard her over all the chaos, they'd never make it in time.

My leg felt like it was pulling free of my body. Pain washed everything in red. The force of the Underworld tugged at me like dark gravity. I didn't have the strength to fight. I knew I was too far down to be saved.

Unlike the other instance we’d been on the edge of the pit, she hadn’t caught up to me in time. We’d fallen.

"Allie… My Angel, let me go," I croaked, trying (and failing) to keep my voice strong for her sake. "You can't pull us both up."

I wasn't even holding onto her anymore. Her grip on my wrist was the only thing keeping me from falling to my death. Her nails had dug into my skin so hard, it drew blood in shaky streaks from my elbow to my wrist from when we’d fallen. She was holding onto me by a sheer force of will that Allie Jackson alone was able to procure. 

“I have to,” she shot back, her voice shattered. “We can’t just…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but I knew how she wanted to end it: fall. Her face was white with effort. I could see in her eyes that she knew it was hopeless. Tears streamed down her beautiful, perfect face. 

“We both will if you don’t let me go,” I told her, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from yelping at another pull to my bad leg. “Angel, be selfish for once. Save yourself.” 

"Never," she said, sounding like her heart was breaking, the one thing I promised myself I'd never do to her. Then she was back to whispering to herself, “Fuck, fuck, godsdamn it all.” 

Her feet scratched at the wall to get some kind of ledge, but there was nothing big enough for her to get a grip on. She let out another expletive, shouting it this time, and kicked the wall hard enough for me to assume she would have broken her toes if she hadn’t had the Curse of Achilles. We swung dangerously from the force of her kick, but she just held on to the ledge and I even tighter. 

For a moment, Allie just let herself hang there, still squeezing my wrist hard enough to bruise. I wouldn’t be getting away from her if she had anything to say about it. She was still panting from the exertion, before her expression smoothed. She nodded to herself slowly. It was almost unsettling, the way the panic and dire fury melted away. She almost looked peaceful. 

That worried me more than the rage. 

Allie’s head shot up, so she could look up directly at Nico, fifteen feet above. "The other side, Nico! We'll see you there. Do you understand?"

Nico's eyes widened. "But—"

"Lead them there!" Allie shouted desperately, trying again to get a foothold, but not able to find one. "Promise me!" When he hesitated, Allie’s voice got louder, more frantic. “Now, Nico! You will bring them there! Promise me.”

"I— I will." I could see panic settling on his face. “I swear on the Styx, Allie, I will bring them to the other side of the doors.”

Below us, the voice laughed in the darkness. Sacrifices. Beautiful sacrifices to wake the goddess.

Allie tightened her grip on my wrist, even though I wasn’t sure where she was pulling the strength from. Her face was gaunt, tear-stained and covered in dust, her hair frizzy and wild, but when she locked eyes with me, I thought she had never looked more gorgeous.

“Angel—”

"We're staying together, Babe," she promised, her voice quiet enough for only me to hear. There was still the underlying terror there, but it was as smooth and melodic as it always was. "We’ll do this quest together, yeah? Just like old times?”

Only then did I understand what would happen, what Allie had meant. A one-way trip. A very hard fall.

But at least we’d be together.

"Just like old times," I repeated. “I don’t want to be away from you. Never again, Angel.”

More tears welled up in Allie’s eyes. “I don’t either,” she choked through a sob. “I love you.” Then, she repeated the phrase, quieter and quieter, like she suspected it might be the last time the words would leave her mouth. “I love you, I love you, I love you…”

I heard Nico and Hazel still screaming for help. I saw the sunlight far, far above— maybe the last sunlight I would ever see.

Allie leaned her head against the chasm wall as she sobbed. Her fingers were slipping, but even so, I was pretty sure the ledge was going to break if she didn't let go soon. 

Then, with a final sob of acceptance, and before she could second-guess herself, Allie let go of her tiny ledge, and together, holding hands, we fell into the endless darkness.

*    *    *

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2.0 The Major Storm Before the Violent Calamity

Allie

I had never thought of Mr. D as a calming influence (for plenty of good reasons and a couple of biased ones), but suddenly everything got quiet. The machines ground to a halt. The wild animals stopped growling.

The two leopards paced over— still licking their lips from Piper's pot roast— and butted their heads affectionately against the god's legs. Mr. D scratched their ears. It was only the (rare) moments like these where I remembered the god oversaw much of the untamed forces of nature. 

"Really, Ephialtes," he chided. "Killing demigods is one thing. But using leopards for your spectacle? That's over the line."

The giant made a squeaking sound. "This—  this is impossible. D- D—"

"It's Bacchus, actually, my old friend," said the god casually. "And of course it's possible. Someone told me there was a party going on."

He looked the same as he had in Kansas, but I still couldn't get over the differences between Bacchus and my old (… associate? Camp Chaperone? He definitely wasn’t a friend) Mr. D. Bacchus was meaner and leaner, with less of a potbelly and less… drunkard-looking. He had longer hair, more spring in his step, and a lot more anger in his eyes. He even managed to make a pinecone on a stick look intimidating.

Ephialtes's spear quivered. To his credit, he tried to sound brave. "You— you gods are doomed! Be gone, in the name of Gaea!"

"Hmm." Bacchus sounded unimpressed. He strolled through the ruined props, platforms, and special effects. "Tacky." He waved his hand at a painted wooden gladiator, then turned to a machine that looked like an oversized rolling pin studded with knives. "Cheap. Boring. And this…" He inspected the rocket-launching contraption, which was still smoking. "Tacky, cheap, and boring. Honestly, Ephialtes. You have no sense of style."

“Agreed,” I mumbled, which was a surprise to me. For once, I found myself agreeing wholeheartedly with Mr. D, with not a single argument to be found. Maybe we could turn a new leaf. 

"STYLE?" The giant's face flushed. "I have mountains of style. I define style. I— I—"

"My brother oozes style," Otis suggested.

"Thank you!" Ephialtes cried.

Bacchus stepped forward, and the giants stumbled back. "Have you two gotten shorter?" asked the god.

"Oh, that's low," Ephialtes growled. "I'm quite tall enough to destroy you, Bacchus! You gods, always hiding behind your mortal heroes, trusting the fate of Olympus to the likes of these."

He sneered at me. I wasn’t sure why I was the one getting his directed ire, but I chalked it up to having a better sense of style than Jason and Piper and a tad bit of jealousy. 

Jason hefted his sword. "Lord Bacchus, are we going to kill these giants or what?"

For just a moment, I could admire his determination. And his naivety. 

"Well, I certainly hope so," Bacchus said haughtily. "Please, carry on."

I stared at him, not even bothering to hide my irritation. "So you came to watch? Did you decide our little gift meant jack shit?"

“Allie,” Jason hissed beside me, obviously still not used to my lackadaisical efforts to remain respectful in the face of divinity. 

Bacchus shrugged. "Oh, I appreciated the sacrifice at sea. A whole ship full of Diet Coke. Very nice. Although I would've preferred Diet Pepsi."

Yeah, I take it back. The leaf is staying right where it has always been. "And six million in gold and jewels," I muttered. “I could have given that all to a charity. The recipients of whom would be far more appreciative.” 

"Yes," Bacchus said, "although with demigod parties of five or more the gratuity is included, so that wasn't necessary."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Never mind," Bacchus said airily. "At any rate, you got my attention. I'm here. Now I need to see if you're worthy of my help. Go ahead. Battle. If I'm impressed, I'll jump in for the, ah, grand finale."

"We speared one," I said. "Dropped the roof on the other. What do you consider impressive?"

"Ah, a good question…" Bacchus tapped his thyrsus. Then he smiled in a way that made me think, oh, fuck. "Should you not have an idea, Allie Jackson? You’ve put on plenty of shows! Perhaps you need inspiration! The stage hasn't been properly set. You call this a spectacle, Ephialtes? Let me show you how it's done."

The god dissolved into purple mist. Piper and Nico disappeared.

"Pipes!" Jason yelled. "Bacchus, where did you—?"

The entire floor rumbled and began to rise. The ceiling opened in a series of panels. Sunlight poured in. The air shimmered like a mirage, and I heard the roar of a crowd above me.

The hypogeum ascended through a forest of weathered stone columns, into the middle of a ruined coliseum.

My heart did a somersault. This wasn't just any coliseum. It was the Colosseum. The giants' special effects machines had gone into overtime, laying planks across ruined support beams so the arena had a proper floor again. The bleachers repaired themselves until they were gleaming white. A giant red-and-gold canopy extended overhead to provide shade from the afternoon sun. The emperor's box was draped with silk, flanked by banners and golden eagles. The roar of applause came from thousands of shimmering purple ghosts, the Lares of Rome brought back for an encore performance. 

I had never experienced stage fright. A sold out show in front of thousands? That was nothing. I’d had a camera in my face since I was two. But that? I’d never truly thought about what it might have been like for a gladiator to enter this arena thousands of years ago, but… 

Vents opened in the floor and sprayed sand across the arena. Huge props sprang up— garage-size mountains of plaster, stone columns, and (for some reason) life-size plastic barnyard animals. A small lake appeared to one side. Ditches crisscrossed the arena floor in case anyone was in the mood for trench warfare. Me and Jason stood together facing the twin giants.

"This is a proper show!" boomed the voice of Bacchus. He sat in the emperor's box wearing purple robes and golden laurels. At his left sat Nico and Piper, her shoulder being tended by a nymph in a nurse's uniform. At Bacchus's right crouched a satyr, offering up Doritos and grapes.

The god raised a can of Diet Pepsi and the crowd went respectfully quiet.

I glared up at him. "You're just going to sit there?"

"The demigoddess is right!" Ephialtes bellowed. "Fight us yourself, coward! Um, without the demigods."

Bacchus smiled lazily. "Juno says she's assembled a worthy crew of demigods. Show me. Entertain me, heroes of Olympus. Give me a reason to do more. Being a god has its… privileges. You could have learned of them, Sea Princess. Perhaps you yet will." He paused as my heart leapt into my throat. “Let’s get this party started!” 

He popped his soda can top, and the crowd roared.

*    *    * 

I had fought many battles. I'd even fought in a couple of arenas that were modeled somewhat like the Colosseum, but nothing like that.

In the huge Colosseum, with thousands of cheering ghosts, the god Bacchus staring down at me, and the two twelve-foot giants looming over me, I felt as small and insignificant as a bug. But more than that, I also felt very angry.

Fighting giants was one thing. Bacchus making it into a game was something else.

I remembered what Annabeth Chase had told me years ago, when I had come back from my very first quest: The gods don’t fight fair. They’re all so arrogant. They think we’re so far beneath them. Just little pawns to be used in their games, in their petty arguments. They never think we’ll have the guts to do something about it when we get tired of being used.

And Cody Wentz, Luke’s brother… Didn't you realize how useless it all is? All the heroics, being pawns of the gods. They should've been overthrown thousands of years ago, but they've hung on, thanks to us half-bloods, he’d said. Then, later, You let yourself become the gods’ pawn in a war you had nothing to do with.

I had always told myself I couldn’t allow myself to stoop to their beliefs. No matter what, I had to understand that what I was doing was in the best interests of the world, and of the half-bloods that I called my family. But…

I couldn’t deny, not even to myself, that I was beginning to truly understand how they’d become so spiteful. Cody hadn’t been wrong— I had allowed myself to become a pawn. Not just in stopping the almost-war between Zeus and Poseidon when I first learned of my lineage, but in nearly everything that pertained to the gods afterward. The Olympians seemed to take turns using me for their schemes.

It didn’t make me feel any better that Bacchus had sort of been right. I had been given the path to unlimited privileges. More than that, I had been offered freedom from pawn-hood. The gift had been placed readily in my open palms, and I’d tossed it unceremoniously to the ground. In my defense, it had been in pursuit of a far nobler, far more important cause, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t been given a choice. 

There had been times afterward, before my kidnapping by Hera, when I thought about Zeus offering to make me a goddess. Not a single Olympian had opposed it. Not Ares, not Athena, not Dionysus himself. I’d chalked it up to them not wanting to anger Poseidon after he’d saved the day, but… I also knew that didn’t make a ton of sense. 

I wondered if maybe the offer hadn’t been the freedom from being a pawn that I’d originally thought it was. If it had been their chance to make me a tool… permanently. 

A shiver ran through my body before I could suppress it. And what had Bacchus meant by still having a chance at godhood? I had denied it, that had been the end of that particular story. If there was one thing I knew for certain, it was that Zeus would never be so prideless as to offer it to me again. According to Hera, he was already still butthurt at my first denial. 

But that was the point, wasn’t it? No matter how hard I tried, I would never actually be able to understand the gods’ true motives, because no matter what Bacchus thought, I would never be a goddess. I wouldn’t.

And maybe the gods were better than the Titans, or the giants, or Gaea, but that didn't make them good or wise. It certainly didn't make me like this stupid arena battle.

Unfortunately, like always, I didn't have much choice. If I was going to save my friends, I had to beat these giants. I had to survive and find Luke.

Ephialtes and Otis made my decision easier by attacking. Together, the giants picked up a fake mountain as big as my New York penthouse apartment and hurled it at us.

Me and Jason bolted. We dove together into the nearest trench and the mountain shattered above us, spraying us with plaster shrapnel. Jason hissed at the sting, but the pieces bounced harmlessly off of my iron skin.

The crowd jeered and shouted for blood. "Fight! Fight!"

"I'll take Otis again?" Jason called over the noise. "Or do you want him this time?"

I tried to think. Dividing was the natural course— fighting the giants one-on-one, but that hadn't worked so well last time. It dawned on me that we needed a different strategy.

The whole trip, I had felt so responsible for leading and protecting my friends. I was sure Jason felt the same way. We'd worked in small groups, hoping that would be safer. We'd fought as individuals, each demigod doing what he or she did best. But Hera had made us a team of seven for a reason. The few times me and Jason had worked together— summoning the storm at Fort Sumter, helping the Argo II escape the Pillars of Hercules, even filling the nymphaeum— I had felt more confident, better able to figure out problems, as if I'd been a Cyclops my whole life and suddenly woke up with two eyes.

I didn’t want to say it outloud, but it felt like it did when I fought with Thalia or Nico. Like I was fighting not with someone who knew every move I was going to make before I made it and responded accordingly, like Luke, but with someone who could compliment my powers when the situation needed a little bit… more. 

With a huff, I pulled out the pen holding my hair up and redid the French twist I’d put it in earlier in the day. For this to work, I didn’t want to be worried about my hair getting in my face during the fight, and the good thing about our crowd being ghosts was that none of them would recognize me. 

"We attack together," I said, my tone leaving no room for discussion. "Otis first, because he's weaker. Take him out quickly and move to Ephialtes. Bronze, silver, and gold together— maybe that'll keep them from re-forming a little longer."

Jason smiled dryly, like he'd just found out he would die in an embarrassing way.

"Why not?" he agreed. "But Ephialtes isn't going to stand there and wait while we kill his brother. Unless—"

"Good wind today," I offered. "And I can feel the water pipes running under the arena."

Jason understood immediately. He laughed, and I felt that maybe we could work as a better team than I had originally thought. This guy thought the same way I did about a lot of things.

"On three?" Jason said.

"Why wait?"

We charged out of the trench. As I suspected, the twins had lifted another plaster mountain, this one only marginally smaller than the first, and were waiting for a clear shot. The giants raised it above their heads, preparing to throw, but before they could, I called upon the water in the pipes below to burst forth. 

As expected, there was an explosion of water at their feet, shaking the floor. Jason sent a blast of wind against Ephialtes' chest. The purple-haired giant toppled backward and Otis lost his grip on the mountain, which promptly collapsed on top of his brother. Only Ephialtes' snake feet stuck out, darting their heads around, as if wondering where the rest of their body had gone.

The crowd roared with approval, but I knew Ephialtes was only stunned. We had a few seconds at best.

"Hey, Otis!" I shouted. "The Nutcracker is way overrated!"

"Ahhhhh!" Otis snatched up his spear and threw, but he was too angry to aim straight. Jason deflected it over my head and into the lake.

We backed toward the water, goading the giant the entire way. Otis barreled toward us empty-handed, before apparently realizing that a) he was empty-handed, and b) charging toward a large body of water to fight the first mortal daughter of Poseidon was maybe not his best idea.

Too late, he tried to stop. We rolled to either side, and Jason summoned the wind, using the giant's own momentum to shove him into the water. As Otis struggled to rise, Jason and I attacked as one. We launched ourselves at the giant and brought our blades down on Otis's head. 

The poor guy didn't even have a chance to pirouette. He exploded into powder on the lake's surface like a huge packet of drink mix.

I churned the lake into a massive whirlpool, doing my best to keep as many pieces of the giant apart as I could. Otis' essence tried to re-form, but as his head appeared from the water, Jason called lightning and blasted him to dust again.

So far so good, but we wouldn’t be able to keep Otis down forever. I was still tired from my fight underground and mentally drained from having to leave Luke behind. I wouldn’t be able to keep up with a long winded fight, especially with one part of my consciousness forced to keep the whirlpool going. But we still had another giant to defeat. 

As if on cue, the plaster mountain exploded behind us. Ephialtes rose, bellowing with anger.

Jason and I waited as he lumbered toward us, his spear in hand. Apparently, getting flattened under a plaster mountain had only energized him. His eyes danced with murderous light. The afternoon sun glinted in his coin-braided hair. Even his snake feet looked angry, baring their fangs and hissing.

Jason called down another lightning strike, but Ephialtes caught it on his spear and deflected the blast, melting a life-size plastic cow. He slammed a stone column out of his way like a stack of building blocks.

As Ephialtes closed in, it became harder for me to keep the water churning. My only saving grace was my own stubborn power, and the water’s momentum. Jason and I met the giant's charge. We lunged around Ephialtes, stabbing and slashing in a blur of gold, silver, and bronze, but the giant parried every strike.

"I will not yield!" Ephialtes roared. "You may have ruined my spectacle, but Gaea will still destroy your world!"

I lashed out, slicing the giant's spear in half. Ephialtes wasn't even fazed. The giant swept low with the blunt end and knocked me off my feet. I landed hard on my right arm, and Riptide clattered out of my grip.

Jason tried to take advantage. He stepped inside the giant's guard and stabbed at his chest, but somehow Ephialtes parried the strike. He sliced the tip of his spear down Jason's chest, ripping his purple shirt into a vest. Jason stumbled, looking at the thin line of blood down his sternum. Ephialtes kicked him backward.

Up in the emperor's box, Piper cried out, but her voice was drowned in the roar of the crowd.

Ephialtes towered over I and Jason, both halves of his broken spear poised over our heads.

But Bacchus only looked on with an amused smile, munching from a bag of Doritos.

My temper flared. I felt my hands trembling and that could only mean one thing.

From the lake, Otis yelled, trying to warn his brother, but his half-dissolved face could only manage: "Uh-umh-moooo!"

"Don't worry, brother!" Ephialtes said, his eyes still fixed on me and Jason. "I will make them suffer!"

The Argo II turned in the sky, presenting its port side, and green fire blazed from the ballista, but we wouldn't need it.

Right on time, the floor cracked open from my earthquake and Ephialtes fell halfway through. I stopped the earthquake when his head stuck out. With newfound energy, I lunged at the giant and sliced his head in half with Riptide. 

I let him reform and pull himself out of the hole, but he was still disoriented. When he was trying to regain his bearings, I grabbed him with a water-hand and jumped to cut him in half. 

Me and Jason rolled away as Ephialtes bellowed in disbelief.

Just then, the Argo II was coming in for a landing. Jason poked his head out from behind his improvised shelter of a plastic horse. Ephialtes and Otis were floundering in the lake, trying to re-form, but from the arms down they looked like puddles of burnt oatmeal. 

I staggered over to Jason and clapped him on the shoulder. The ghostly crowd gave us a standing ovation as the Argo II extended its landing gear and settled on the arena floor. Leo stood at the helm, Hazel and Frank grinning at his side. Coach Hedge danced around the platform, pumping his fist in the air and yelling, "That's what I'm talking about!" and “Let me at ‘em!” 

I turned to the emperor's box. "Well?" I yelled at Bacchus. "Was that entertaining enough for you, you wine-breathed, conniving little cun—"

"No need for all that temper." Suddenly the god was standing right next to me in the arena. He brushed Dorito dust off his purple robes casually, despite my glare burning holes into his collar. "I have decided you are worthy partners for this combat."

"Partners?" Jason growled. "You did nothing!"

Bacchus walked to the edge of the lake. The water instantly drained, leaving an Ephialtes-and-Otis-headed pile of mush. Bacchus picked his way to the bottom and looked up at the crowd. He raised his thyrsus.

The crowd jeered and hollered and pointed their thumbs up. Historically, I’d heard that the Ancient Romans had actually used the thumbs up to show they wanted the defeated gladiator finished off and the thumbs down to indicate they wanted the victor’s sword sheathed and Hollywood had been the beast that had popularized the opposite. Though, to be fair, I was also pretty sure Hollywood had gone off of a painting that had done the same, and to be fair, I’d also heard that perhaps the Romans didn’t use a thumbs up or a thumbs down at all.  

Regardless, Bacchus chose the more entertaining option. He smacked Otis' head with his pinecone staff, and the giant pile of giant brothers disintegrated completely.

The crowd went wild. The ghosts cheered and threw spectral confetti as Bacchus strode around the stadium with his arms raised triumphantly, exulting in the worship. 

He grinned at us. "That, my friends, is a show! And of course, I did something. I killed two giants!"

As my friends disembarked from the ship, the crowd of ghosts shimmered and disappeared.

Piper and Nico struggled down from the emperor's box as the Colosseum's magical renovations began to turn into mist. The arena floor remained solid, but otherwise, the stadium looked as if it hadn't hosted a good giant killing for eons.

"Well," Bacchus said airily. "That was fun. You have my permission to continue your voyage."

"Your permission?" I snarled. “If I needed your permission for anything, I’d—”

"Yes." Bacchus raised an eyebrow. "Although your voyage may be a little harder than you expect, Daughter of Neptune."

"Poseidon," I corrected him automatically. "What do you mean about my voyage?"

"You might try the parking lot behind the Emmanuel Building," Bacchus said, looking at me like he was throwing me a bone. "Best place to break through. Now, good-bye, my friends. And, ah, good luck with that other little matter."

The god vaporized in a cloud of mist that smelled faintly of grape juice. Jason ran to meet Piper and Nico.

Coach Hedge trotted up to me, with Hazel, Frank, and Leo close behind. "Was that Dionysus?" Hedge asked. "I love that guy!"

"You're alive!" I said to the others. "The giants said you were captured. What happened?"

Leo shrugged. "Oh, just another brilliant plan by Leo Valdez. You'd be amazed what you can do with an Archimedes sphere, a girl who can sense stuff underground, and a weasel."

"I was the weasel," Frank said glumly. 

"Basically," Leo explained, "I activated a hydraulic screw with the Archimedes device— which is going to be awesome once I install it in the ship, by the way. Hazel sensed the easiest path to drill to the surface. We made a tunnel big enough for a weasel, and Frank climbed up with a simple transmitter that I slapped together. After that, it was just a matter of hacking into Coach Hedge's favorite satellite channels and telling him to bring the ship around to rescue us. After he got us, finding you was easy, thanks to that godly light show at the Colosseum."

I understood about twenty percent of Leo's story, but I decided it was enough since I had a more pressing question. "Where's Luke?" I paused, then winced. “Um, and Malcolm.”

Leo grimaced. "Yeah, about that… they’re still in trouble, we think. Both of them are hurt, broken legs, maybe— at least according to this vision Gaea showed us. Rescuing them is our next stop."

Two seconds before, I had been ready to collapse. Now another surge of adrenaline coursed through my body. I wanted to strangle Leo and demand why the Argo II hadn't sailed off to rescue Luke first, but I thought that might sound a little bratty and bitchy.

"Tell me about the vision," I commanded. "Tell me everything."

The floor shook. The wooden planks began to disappear, spilling sand into the pits of the hypogeum below.

I sighed. "Let's talk on board," I suggested. "We'd better take off while we still can because that one's not me."

We sailed out of the Colosseum and veered south over the rooftops of Rome.

All around the Piazza del Colosseo, traffic had come to a standstill. A crowd of mortals had gathered, probably wondering about the strange lights and sounds that had come from the ruins. As far as I could see, none of the giants' spectacular plans for destruction had come off successfully.

The city looked the same as before. No one seemed to notice the huge Greek trireme rising into the sky.

We gathered around the helm. Jason bandaged Piper's sprained shoulder while Hazel sat at the stern, feeding Nico ambrosia. The son of Hades could barely lift his head. His voice was so quiet, Hazel had to lean in whenever he spoke.

Frank and Leo recounted what had happened in the room with the Archimedes spheres, and the visions Gaea had shown them in the bronze mirror. We quickly decided that our best lead for finding Luke was the cryptic advice Bacchus had provided: the Emmanuel Building, whatever that was. 

Frank started typing at the helm's computer while Leo tapped furiously at his controls, muttering, "Emmanuel Building. Emmanuel Building." Coach Hedge tried to help by wrestling with an upside-down street map of Rome.

I knelt next to Jason and Piper. "How's the shoulder?"

Piper smiled. "It'll heal. Both of you did great."

Jason elbowed me. "Not a bad team, you and me."

"Same thing with your sister," I agreed. "I guess our father's children get along better than they do."

"There it is!" Leo cried, pointing to his monitor. "Frank, you're amazing! I'm setting course."

Frank hunched his shoulders. "I just read the name off the screen. Some Chinese tourist marked it on Google Maps."

Leo grinned at the others. "He reads Chinese."

"Just a tiny bit," Frank said bashfully.

"How cool is that?"

"Guys," Hazel broke in, a small smile playing on her face. "I hate to interrupt your admiration session, but you should hear this."

She helped Nico to his feet. He'd always been pale, but now his skin looked like powdered milk. His dark sunken eyes reminded me of photos I'd seen of liberated prisoners-of-war, which I guessed Nico basically was.

"Thank you," Nico rasped. His eyes darted nervously around at all of us. "I'd given up hope."

The past week or so, I had imagined a lot of scathing things I might say to Nico when we met again, but the guy looked so frail and sad, I couldn't muster up much anger. I’d wanted so badly to be pissed that he hadn’t told me who I was when he saw me in Rome, upset that he didn’t help me out— even a little— when all I’d ever tried to do since his sister had died was help him. My concern won out. 

"You knew about the two camps all along," I managed to say. "Nico, you could have told me who I was the first day I arrived at Camp Jupiter, but you didn't."

Nico slumped against the helm. "Allie, please, I'm sorry. I discovered Camp Jupiter last year. My dad led me there, though I wasn't sure why. He told me the gods had kept the camps separate for centuries and that I couldn't tell anyone. The time wasn't right. But he said it would be important for me to know…" He doubled over in a fit of coughing.

Hazel held his shoulders until he could stand again.

"I— I thought Dad meant because of Hazel," Nico continued wearily. "I'd need a safe place to take her. But now… I think he wanted me to know about both camps so I'd understand how important your quest was, and so I'd search for the Doors of Death."

The air turned electric— literally, as Jason started throwing off sparks. 

Nico looked so imploringly at me, so like a kicked puppy, that I had to turn away. I leaned against the railing and pulled out the pen holding my hair up out of its hold and put it in my pocket. The wind played with my hair as I tried to figure out what I wanted to say. 

"Did you find the doors?" was what finally came out of my mouth, and I twisted my rings around my fingers, still unable to look at the boy again.

Nico sighed. "Yes. But I was a fool. I thought I could go anywhere in the Underworld, but I walked right into Gaea's trap. I might as well have tried running from a black hole."

"Um…" Frank chewed his lip. "What kind of black hole are you talking about?"

Nico started to speak, but whatever he needed to say must have been too terrifying. He turned to Hazel.

She put her hand on her brother's arm. "Nico told me that the Doors of Death have two sides— one in the mortal world, one in the Underworld. The mortal side of the portal is in Greece. It's heavily guarded by Gaea's forces. That's where they brought Nico back into the upper world. Then they transported him to Rome."

Piper must've been nervous, because her cornucopia spit out a cheeseburger. "Where exactly in Greece is this doorway?"

Nico took a rattling breath. "The House of Hades. It's an underground temple in Epirus. I can mark it on a map, but— but the mortal side of the portal isn't the problem. In the Underworld, the Doors of Death are in… in…"

A cold chill ran down my spine.

A black hole. An inescapable part of the Underworld where even Nico di Angelo couldn't go. Why hadn't I thought of it before? I'd been to the very edge of that place. Luke had almost been dragged right in. I still had nightmares about it.

"Tartarus," I guessed, my voice going hollow. I finally mustered up the courage to look back at Nico and saw his violent wince. "The deepest part of the Underworld."

He nodded and swallowed hard, but he teared up like the thought was about to send him spiralling. "They pulled me into the pit. The things I saw down there, Allie…" His voice broke on my name.

Hazel pursed her lips. "No mortal has ever been to Tartarus," she explained. "At least, no one has ever gone in and returned alive. It's the maximum-security prison of Hades, where the old Titans and the other enemies of the gods are bound. It's where all monsters go when they die on the earth. It's… well, no one knows exactly what it's like."

Her eyes drifted to her brother. The rest of her thought didn't need to be spoken: No one except Nico. And we could all see what it had done to him, the Son of Hades himself. 

Hazel handed him his black sword.

Nico leaned on it like it was an old man's cane. "Now I understand why Hades hasn't been able to close the doors," he said. "Even the gods don't go into Tartarus. Even the god of death, Thanatos himself, wouldn't go near that place."

Leo glanced over from the wheel. "So let me guess. We'll have to go there?"

Nico shook his head. "There’s no way. It's impossible. I'm the son of Hades, and even I barely survived. Gaea's forces overwhelmed me instantly. They're so powerful down there… No demigod would stand a chance. I almost went insane."

Nico's eyes looked like shattered glass. I wondered sadly if something inside him had broken permanently. Not even Bianca’s death had broken him this hauntingly. 

"Then we'll sail for Epirus," I said. "Can we not just close the gates on this side?"

"I wish it were that easy," Nico told me. "The doors would have to be controlled on both sides to be closed. It's like a double seal. Maybe, just maybe, all seven of you working together could defeat Gaea's forces on the mortal side, at the House of Hades. But unless you had a team fighting simultaneously on the Tartarus side, a team powerful enough to defeat a legion of monsters in their home territory—"

"There has to be a way," Jason interrupted.

Nobody volunteered any brilliant ideas.

I thought my stomach was sinking. Then I realized the entire ship was descending toward a big building like a palace.

Luke. Nico's news was so horrible I had momentarily forgotten he was still in danger, which made me feel incredibly guilty.

I shook my head. "We'll figure out the Tartarus problem later," I said forcefully. "Is that the Emmanuel Building?"

Leo nodded. "Bacchus said something about the parking lot in back? Well, there it is. What now?"

I remembered my dream of the dark chamber, the evil buzzing voice of the monster called Her Ladyship. I remembered how shaken Luke and Malcolm had looked when they’d come back from Fort Sumter after their encounter with whatever it was. I had begun to suspect what might be down in that shrine… literally, the mother of all spiders. If I was right, and Malcolm and Luke had been trapped down there with that creature for hours, with unidentified bones of theirs broken… At a certain point, I didn't care if that stupid quest was supposed to be a duo or not.

"We have to get him out," I said.

"Well, yeah," Leo agreed. "But, uh…"

He looked like he wanted to say, What if we're too late?

Wisely, he didn’t say those exact words to me and changed tact. "There's a parking lot in the way."

I looked at Coach Hedge. "Bacchus said something about ‘breaking through’. I sort of stole your thunder, Coach. You still want to use that ammo from the ballistae?"

The satyr grinned like a wild goat. "I thought you'd never ask, Jackson."

*    *    *

previous | next

1.9 Dear Reader, If It Feels Like a Trap, You're Already In One

Luke

I wanted to say I’d faced Arachne head-on, no problems whatsoever. 

It would have made me a liar. 

Being entirely honest, the spider woman terrified me more than I’d ever care to admit. As the proclaimed ‘Camp Older Brother’, I’d killed more than a few spiders whenever one infiltrated the Athena Cabin’s carefully crafted defenses. Spiders weren’t my problem, though. Arachne was. 

I'd been assaulted by Roman ghosts. I'd torn my ACL. Malcolm and I had been chased across a chasm by an army of spiders. Now, in severe pain, with my leg wrapped in boards and Bubble Wrap, and carrying no weapon except my sword, I faced Arachne— a monstrous half-spider who wanted to kill me and Malcolm and make a commemorative tapestry about it. Oh, and another of my girlfriend's reaction to said death. 

There was only so much that a man could take. And, gods curse me for it, I really missed having Allie by my side. She always made me braver. 

Just the thought of her helped me. I had to make it back to her, had to be there to watch her back— her mortal point. I couldn’t succumb to panic, so instead, I forced myself to think. 

The monstrous creature picked her way down from the top of the web-covered statue. She moved from strand to strand, hissing with pleasure, her four eyes glittering in the dark. Either she was not in a hurry, or she was slow.

I hoped she was slow.

Not that it mattered. Neither Malcolm or I were in any condition to run, and I didn't like our chances in combat.

Arachne probably weighed several hundred pounds. Those barbed legs were perfect for capturing and killing prey. Besides, Arachne probably had other horrible powers— a poisonous bite, or web-slinging abilities like an Ancient Greek Spider-Man. Having a girlfriend who played a Marvel superhero on the big screen would do me no good there. Neither would combat. 

I needed a different answer.

That left trickery and brains. Perfect for a Hermes and Athena duo, normally. Not when said duo was terrified, injured, and moments from hitting a catatonic state.

In the old legends, Arachne had gotten into trouble because of pride. She'd bragged about her tapestries being better than Athena's, which had led to one of Mount Olympus's first reality TV punishment programs: So You Think You Can Weave Better Than a Goddess? Arachne had lost in a big way.

I tried thinking of the best tactic to use. Using her pride against her seemed to be the best way, if we could pull it off, but good, old-fashioned stalling might do the trick, too. 

I tried to keep my expression calm, which wasn't easy with an out-of-commission leg. I limped toward the nearest tapestry— Allie, sitting on the beach in front of her East Hampton beach house with the sun setting in the background. I almost teared up at how real and beautiful her depiction was. 

"Marvelous," I said, laying a little Hermes charm on thick. "Tell me about this tapestry."

Arachne's lips curled over her mandibles. "Why do you care, boy? You're about to die."

"Well, yes," I said casually, trying to ignore how Malcolm was clutching at his chest, trying to figure out how to breathe again. "But the way you captured the light is amazing. Did you use real golden thread for the sunbeams?"

The weaving truly was stunning. I was no weaver— Allie still had to guide my fingers every time I tried to dutifully braid her hair— but I didn't have to pretend to be impressed.

Arachne allowed herself a smug smile. "No, child. Not gold. I blended the colors, contrasting bright yellow with darker hues. That's what gives it a three-dimensional effect."

"Beautiful." My mind split into two different levels: one carrying on the conversation, the other madly grasping for a scheme to survive. Nothing came to me. Arachne had been beaten only once— by Athena herself, and that had taken godly magic and incredible skill in a weaving contest. 

"So…" I said. "How did you see this? Was it a vision or…?"

Arachne hissed, her mouth foaming in a not-very-attractive way. "You are trying to delay your death. It won't work."

"No, no," I insisted. "It just seems a shame that these beautiful tapestries can't be seen by everyone. They belong in a museum, or…"

"Or what?" Arachne asked.

My brain was working overtime. I’d never been too tapped into the trickster side of my father’s domains, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t ever. I had an idea, a crazy, completely suicidal idea if it didn’t work. But… Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try. We were dead either way. 

I recalled seeing Allie on the set of multiple different shows and TV shows. Her best advice to aspiring actors was always to never over-act. It could lessen a performance more than you’d think. Sometimes less was more. I took a deep breath and smoothed my expression, imagining Allie by my side, coaching me through a few scenes for the music video she’d allowed me to be in. "Nothing." I sighed wistfully. "It was a passing thought. Something silly. Too bad."

Arachne scuttled down the statue until she was perched atop the goddess's shield. Even from that distance, I could smell the spider's stink, like an entire bakery full of pastries left to go bad for a month.

"What?" the spider pressed. "What silly thought?"

I had to force myself not to back away. Torn ACL or no, every nerve in my body pulsed with the need to defend myself. My demigod instincts to fight to the death weren’t used to being tampered down for so long, not with a huge monster-spider hovering over me.

"Oh… it's just that Malcolm was put in charge of redesigning Mount Olympus," I said flippantly. "You know, after the Titan War. He's completed most of the work, but he needs a lot of quality public art. The throne room of the gods, for instance… I was thinking your work would be perfect to display there. The Olympians could finally see how talented you are. But like I said, it was just a… silly thought."

Arachne's hairy abdomen quivered. Her four eyes glimmered as if she had a separate thought behind each and was trying to weave them into a coherent web. "You're redesigning Mount Olympus," she said to Malcolm, and something in her demeanor had changed. "My work… in the Throne Room?"

Malcolm jolted at being addressed, but caught on quickly. "Well, other places too," he said, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice. "The main pavilion could use, um, several of these. That one with the Greek landscape— the Nine Muses would love that. And I'm sure the other gods would be fighting over your work as well. They'd compete to have your tapestries in their palaces. I guess, aside from Athena, none of the gods has ever seen what you can do?"

Arachne snapped her mandibles. "Hardly. In the old days, Athena tore up all my best work. My tapestries depicted the gods in rather unflattering ways, you see. Your mother didn't appreciate that."

"Rather hypocritical," Malcolm said, and suddenly he seemed far more confident than he had before, "since the gods make fun of each other all the time. I think the trick would be to pit one god against another. Ares, for instance, would love a tapestry making fun of my mother. He's always resented Athena."

Arachne's head tilted at an unnatural angle. "You would work against your own mother?"

"I'm just telling you what Ares would like," he said. His tone was innocent, but I could see straight through it. "And Zeus would love something that made fun of Poseidon. And Poseidon loves his daughter. She’s his princess— everyone knows it— so I'm sure he'd want a thousand tapestries with Allie as the subject. And you seem to already have her likeness down pat. Oh, I'm sure if the Olympians saw your work, they'd realize how amazing you are, and I'd have to broker a bidding war. As for working against my mother… Why shouldn't I? She sent me here to die, didn't she? The last time I saw her in New York, she basically disowned me."

Malcolm led the retelling of the story. His voice sounded so bitter and sorrowful, I could tell the spider-woman was hanging on his every word. She did not pounce. Only I knew that he wasn’t even laying his anger on thick. 

"This is Athena's nature," Arachne hissed. "She casts aside even her own son. The goddess would never allow my tapestries to be shown in the palaces of the gods. She was always jealous of me."

I cut in. "But imagine if you could get your revenge at long last? All of this time waiting for retribution, and you can finally get it!"

"By killing you both!"

"I suppose." Malcolm scratched his head. "Or… You could let me be your agent. I’ve seen all of the work that Allie’s does— I could do it easily. I could get your work into Mount Olympus, arrange an exhibition for the other gods. By the time my mother found out, it would be too late. The Olympians would finally see that your work is… better."

"Then you admit it!" Arachne cried. "A son of Athena admits I am better! Oh, this is sweet to my ears."

Finally, I found her weak spot— and my chance to prepare for the kill. "Well, a lot of good it does you," I pointed out faux-sympathetically. "If we die down here, you go on living in the dark. Gaea destroys the gods, and they never realize you were the better weaver."

The spider hissed.

I was afraid Athena might suddenly appear and curse us with some terrible affliction. But nothing bad happened. Maybe Athena understood that we were only saying these things to save our lives. Or maybe Athena was in such in bad shape, split between her Greek and Roman personalities, that she wasn't even paying attention. I hoped that no matter the case, she never brought it up. 

"This will not do," Arachne grumbled. "I cannot allow it."

"Well…" I shifted, trying to keep my weight off my throbbing knee. A new crack appeared in the floor, and I hobbled back.

"Careful!" Arachne snapped. "The foundations of this shrine have been eaten away over the centuries!"

My heartbeat faltered. "Eaten away?"

"You have no idea how much hatred boils beneath us," the spider crooned. "The spiteful thoughts of so many monsters trying to reach the Athena Parthenos and destroy it. My webbing is the only thing holding the room together, boy! One false step, and you'll fall all the way to Tartarus— and believe me, unlike the Doors of Death, this would be a one-way trip, a very hard fall! I will not have you dying before you tell me your plan for my artwork."

My mouth went dry immediately. All the way to… Tartarus? I tried to stay focused, but it wasn't easy as I listened to the floor creak and crack, spilling rubble into the void below. The first time I’d ever been to the Underworld, with Allie and Grover, I’d almost been forcefully dragged into the Pit by Annabeth’s Yankee’s cap. The nightmares afterward had been bad, but I had no doubts things could have always been worse. Allie had just barely been able to keep me from falling.

"Right, the plan," Malcolm said, and he sounded far more uneasy than he had before. "Um… As I said, I'd love to take your tapestries to Olympus and hang them everywhere. You could rub your craftsmanship in Athena's nose for all eternity. But the only way I could do that… No. It's too difficult. You might as well go ahead and kill us."

"No!" Arachne cried. "That is unacceptable. It no longer brings me any pleasure to contemplate. I must have my work on Mount Olympus! What must I do?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. Just… I don’t know, push us into Tartarus or something."

"I refuse!"

It was hard to keep a smile from forming on my face as I practically goaded, "Don't be ridiculous. Kill us."

"I do not take orders from you! Tell me what I must do! Or… or—"

Malcolm offered, "Or you'll kill us?"

"Yes! No!" The spider pressed her front legs against her head. "I must show my work on Mount Olympus."

I tried to contain my excitement. The plan might actually work… but we still had to convince Arachne to do something impossible. 

"I suppose I could pull a few strings," Malcolm conceded. “But…”

"I excel at pulling strings!" said Arachne. "I'm a spider!"

Malcolm shrugged, but I could see the Athena sparkle in his eyes that said he’d just come up with a brilliant idea. He met my eyes for half a second, and I could tell what he wanted to tell me without him saying it outloud, I’ve got this. 

He cleared his throat. "Yes, but to get your work shown on Mount Olympus, we'd need a proper audition. I'd have to pitch the idea, submit a proposal, put together a portfolio. Hmm… Do you have any headshots?"

Arachne jolted at the modern word. "Headshots?"

"Glossy black-and-white… Oh, never mind. The audition piece is the most important thing. These tapestries are excellent. But the gods would require something really special— something that shows off your talent in the… extreme."

Arachne snarled. "Are you suggesting that these are not my best work? Are you challenging me to a contest?"

"Oh, no!" Malcolm laughed and it only sounded slightly forced. "Against me? Gosh, no. You are much too good. It would only be a contest against yourself, to see if you really have what it takes to show your work on Mount Olympus."

"Of course I do!"

"Well, I certainly think so. But the audition, you know… it's a formality. I'm afraid it would be very difficult. Are you sure you don't just want to kill us?"

"Stop saying that!" Arachne screeched. "What must I make?"

"I'll show you." 

Malcolm unslung his backpack, and I was confused as to what he might be trying to grab for only a moment before he took out Daedalus's laptop and opened it. The delta logo glowed in the dark.

"What is that?" Arachne asked. "Some sort of loom?"

"In a way," I said, thinking quickly. "It's… for weaving ideas. It holds a diagram of the artwork you would build."

I could see Malcolm’s fingers trembling on the keyboard. Arachne lowered herself to peer directly over his shoulder. I couldn't help thinking how easily those needle-like teeth could sink into his neck. He opened a 3-D imaging program. Then hesitated. 

I wasn’t sure if he’d thought about what he might be able to get Arachne to make, or if he’d suddenly second-guessed himself, but I had to recover for him. It came to me quickly. Inspired by the most unlikely muse ever: Frank Zhang, we were about to survive.

I nudged Malcolm over and typed something into the program. He jolted, then nodded almost imperceptively at me, following my exact train of thought. He did some quick calculations, increased the dimensions of the model, then showed Arachne how it could be created— strands of material woven into strips, then braided into a long cylinder.

The golden light from the screen illuminated the spider's face. "You want me to make that? But this is nothing! So small and simple!"

"The actual size would be much bigger," Malcolm cautioned. "You see these measurements? Naturally it must be large enough to impress the gods. It may look simple, but the structure has incredible properties. Your spider silk would be the perfect material— soft and flexible, yet hard as steel."

"I see…" Arachne frowned. "But this isn't even a tapestry."

Malcolm nodded. "That's why it's a challenge. It's outside your comfort zone. A piece like this— an abstract sculpture— is what the gods are looking for. It would stand in the entry hall of the Olympian throne room for every visitor to see. You would be famous forever!"

Arachne made a discontented hum in her throat. I could tell she wasn't going for the idea. My hands started to feel cold and sweaty.

"This would take a great deal of web," the spider complained. "More than I could make in a year."

Malcolm turned back to the screen and calculated the mass and size accordingly. "You'd need to unravel the statue," he said, and I realized just how well this plan might work. "Reuse the silk."

Arachne seemed about to object, but I waved at the Athena Parthenos like it was nothing. "What's more important— covering that old statue or proving your artwork is the best? Of course, you'd have to be incredibly careful. You'd need to leave enough webbing to hold the room together. And if you think it's too difficult—"

"I didn't say that!"

"Okay,” I said, and then finally went in for the kill. “It's just… Athena said that creating this braided structure would be impossible for any weaver, even her. So if you don't think you can—"

"Athena said that?"

It was difficult to keep the smile off of my face. "Well… yeah."

"Ridiculous! I can do it!"

Malcolm clapped his hands together. "Great! But you'd need to start right away, before the Olympians choose another artist for their installations."

Arachne growled. "If you are tricking me, boy—"

"You'll have us right here as a hostage," I reminded her. "It's not like we can go anywhere. Once this sculpture is complete, you'll agree that it's the most amazing piece you've ever done. If not, we will gladly die."

Arachne hesitated. Her barbed legs were so close, she could've impaled the both of us with a quick swipe.

"Fine," the spider said. "One last challenge— against myself!"

Arachne climbed her web and began to unravel the Athena Parthenos.

*** 

I lost track of time. 

The Rolex Allie had gifted me for my twentieth birthday had stopped working the second Malcolm and I had descended the stairs into this place. I could feel the ambrosia I'd eaten earlier starting to repair my leg, but it still hurt so badly that the pain throbbed all the way up to my hip. All along the walls, small spiders scuttled in the darkness, as if awaiting their mistress's orders. Thousands of them rustled behind the tapestries, making the woven scenes move like wind.

I sat on the crumbling floor and tried to preserve my strength. While Arachne wasn't watching, Malcolm and I attempted to get some sort of signal on Daedalus's laptop to contact our friends, but of course we had no luck. That left me nothing to do but watch in amazement and horror as Arachne worked, her eight legs moving with hypnotic speed, slowly unraveling the silk strands around the statue.

With its golden clothes and its luminous ivory face, the Athena Parthenos was even scarier than Arachne. It gazed down sternly, just as the actual goddess did any time she came in contact with Allie and me. I could imagine being an Ancient Greek, walking into the Parthenon and seeing this massive goddess with her shield, spear, and python, her free hand holding out Nike, the winged spirit of victory. It would've been enough to put a kink in the chiton of any mortal.

More than that, the statue radiated power. As Athena was unwrapped, the air around us grew warmer. Her ivory skin glowed with life. All across the room, the smaller spiders became agitated and began retreating back into the hallway.

I guessed that Arachne's webs had somehow masked and dampened the statue's magic.

Now that it was free, the Athena Parthenos filled the chamber with magical energy. Centuries of mortal prayers and burnt offerings had been made in its presence. It was infused with the power of Athena.

Arachne didn't seem to notice. She kept muttering to herself, counting out yards of silk and calculating the number of strands her project would require. Whenever she hesitated, we called out encouragement and reminded her how wonderful her tapestries would look on Mount Olympus.

The statue grew so warm and bright that I could see more details of the shrine— the Roman masonry that had probably once been gleaming white, the dark bones of Arachne's past victims and meals hanging in the web, and the massive cables of silk that connected the floor to the ceiling. 

I now saw just how fragile the marble tiles were under my feet. They were covered in a fine layer of webbing, like mesh holding together a shattered mirror. Whenever the Athena Parthenos shifted even slightly, more cracks spread and widened along the floor. In some places, there were holes as big as manhole covers. I almost wished it were dark again. Even if our plan succeeded and we defeated Arachne, I wasn't sure how we could make it out of this chamber alive.

"So much silk," Arachne muttered. "I could make twenty tapestries—"

"Keep going!" I called up. "You're doing a wonderful job."

The spider kept working. After what seemed like forever, a mountain of glistening silk was piled at the feet of the statue. The walls of the chamber were still covered in webs. The support cables holding the room together hadn't been disturbed. But the Athena Parthenos was free.

The cracks seemed to be spreading across the floor more rapidly.

According to Arachne, the malicious thoughts of monsters had eaten away at the shrine's foundations for centuries. If that was true, now that it was free the Athena Parthenos might be attracting even more attention from the monsters in Tartarus.

"The design," I said, trying to keep the panic out of my voice, instead trying to remain more blasé. "You should hurry."

Malcolm lifted the computer screen for Arachne to see, but the spider snapped, "I've memorized it, child. I have an artist's eye for detail."

"Of course you do,” Malcolm said. “But we should hurry."

"Why?"

"Uh—” 

I stepped in quickly. “So we can introduce your work to the world! My girlfriend, Allie— you know, the world-famous actress and singer— she always says perfection shouldn’t be hidden from the world for long."

She also said that some art should be kept hidden to keep the world from corrupting it, but that was neither here nor there. 

"Hmm. Very well."

Arachne began to weave. It was slow work, turning silk strands into long strips of cloth. The chamber rumbled. The cracks at my feet became wider.

If Arachne noticed, she didn't seem to care. I considered trying to push the spider into the pit somehow, but I dismissed the idea. There wasn't a big enough hole, and besides, if the floor gave way, Arachne could probably hang from her silk and escape, while me, Malcolm, and the ancient statue would tumble into Tartarus.

Slowly, Arachne finished the long strips of silk and braided them together. Her skill was flawless. I couldn't help being impressed. 

But Arachne's skill wasn't the point. She had been punished for being prideful and rude. No matter how amazing you were, you couldn't go around insulting the gods (unless you were important to them, like Allie, but even she knew her limits most of the time). The Olympians were a reminder that there was always someone better than you, so you shouldn't get a big head. Still… being turned into a monstrous immortal spider seemed like a pretty harsh punishment for the crime of bragging.

Arachne worked more quickly, bringing the strands together. Soon, the structure was done. At the feet of the statue lay a braided cylinder of silk strips, five feet in diameter and ten feet long. The surface glistened like an abalone shell, but it didn't seem beautiful to me. It was just functional: a trap. It would only be beautiful if it worked.

Arachne turned to her with a hungry smile. "Done! Now, my reward! Prove to me that you can deliver on your promises."

We studied the trap. We frowned and walked around it, inspecting the weaving from every angle. Then, careful of his bad ankle, Malcolm got down on his hands and knees and crawled inside. He had done the measurements in his head. If he'd gotten them wrong, our plan was doomed. But he slipped through the silken tunnel without touching the sides, crawling out the other end and shaking his head.

"There's a flaw," he proclaimed.

"What?!" Arachne cried. "Impossible! I followed your instructions—"

"Inside," he said, voice low. "Crawl in and see for yourself. It's right in the middle— a flaw in the weaving."

Arachne foamed at the mouth. I was afraid he'd pushed too hard, and the spider would snap us up. We'd be just another set of bones in the cobwebs.

Instead, Arachne stamped her eight legs petulantly. "I do not make mistakes." 

"Oh, it's small," he said. "You can probably fix it. But I don't want to show the gods anything but your best work. Look, go inside and check. If you can fix it, then we'll show it to the Olympians. You'll be the most famous artist of all time. They'll probably fire the Nine Muses and hire you to oversee all the arts. The goddess Arachne… Yes, I wouldn't be surprised."

"The goddess…" Arachne's breathing turned shallow, all eight of her eyes hazy. "Yes, yes. I will fix this flaw." She poked her head into the tunnel. "Where is it?"

"Right in the middle," Malcolm urged. "Go ahead. It might be a bit snug for you."

"I'm fine!" she snapped, and wriggled in.

As we had hoped, the spider's abdomen fit, but only barely. As she pushed her way in, the braided strips of silk expanded to accommodate her. Arachne got all the way up to her spinnerets.

"I see no flaw!" she announced.

"Really?" I asked. "Well, that's odd. Come out and I'll take a look instead."

Moment of truth. Arachne wriggled, trying to back up. The woven tunnel contracted around her and held her fast. She tried to wriggle forward, but the trap was already stuck to her abdomen. She couldn't get through that way either. I had been afraid the spider's barbed legs might puncture the silk, but Arachne's legs were pressed so tightly against her body she could barely move them.

"What— what is this?" she called. "I am stuck!"

"Ah," I said. "We must have forgotten to tell you. This piece of art is called Chinese Handcuffs. At least, it's a larger variation on that idea. We’ve decided to call it Chinese Spidercuffs."

"Treachery!" Arachne thrashed and rolled and squirmed, but the trap held her tight.

"It was a matter of survival," Malcolm corrected. "You were going to kill us either way, whether I helped you or not, yes?"

"Well, of course! You're a child of Athena." The trap went still. "I mean… No, of course not! I respect my promises."

"Uh-huh." We stepped back as the braided cylinder began to thrash again. "Normally these traps are made from woven bamboo, but spider silk is even better. It will hold you fast, and it's much too strong to break— even for you."

"Gahhhh!" Arachne rolled and wriggled, but I moved out of the way. Even with my fucked up knee, I could manage to avoid a giant silk finger trap.

"I will destroy you!" Arachne promised. "I mean… No, I'll be very nice to you if you let me out."

"I'd save my energy if I were you." I took a deep breath, relaxing for the first time in hours. "I'm going to call my friends."

"You— you're going to call them about my artwork?" Arachne asked hopefully.

I scanned the room. There had to be a way to send an Iris-message to the Argo II. I had some water left in my bottle, but how to create enough light and mist to make a rainbow in a dark cavern?

Arachne began to roll around again. "You're calling your friends to kill me!" she shrieked. "I will not die! Not like this!"

"Calm down," I said gruffly. "We'll let you live. We just want the statue."

"The statue?"

"Yes." I wasn’t sure I liked the tone Malcolm’s voice had taken. It was as though his fear had turned to anger and resentment, and a bit like his pride was taking over. "The artwork that I'll display most prominently on Mount Olympus? It won't be yours. The Athena Parthenos belongs there— right in the central park of the gods."

"No! No, that's horrible!"

"Oh, it won't happen right away," he said. "First we'll take the statue with us to Greece. A prophecy told us it has the power to help defeat the giants. After that… Well, we can't simply restore it to the Parthenon. That would raise too many questions. It'll be safer in Mount Olympus. It will unite the children of Athena and bring peace to the Romans and Greeks. Thanks for keeping it safe all these centuries. You've done Athena a great service."

“Malcolm—” I tried, but was cut off by the spider. 

Arachne screamed and flailed. A strand of silk shot from the monster's spinnerets and attached itself to a tapestry on the far wall. Arachne contracted her abdomen and blindly ripped away the weaving. She continued to roll, shooting silk randomly, pulling over braziers of magic fire and ripping tiles out of the floor. The chamber shook. Tapestries began to burn.

"Stop that!" I yelled, trying to hobble out of the way of the spider's silk. "You'll bring down the whole cavern and kill us all!"

"Better than seeing you win!" Arachne cried. "My children! Help me!"

Oh, great. I had hoped the statue's magic aura would keep away the little spiders, but Arachne continued shrieking, imploring them to help. I considered killing the spider woman to shut her up. It would be easy to use my sword, but I worried that if I stabbed through the braided silk, the trap might unravel, and with my knee as torn up as it was, I couldn’t be sure of my aim or strength. 

It was possible Arachne could break free before we could finish her off.

All these thoughts came too late. Spiders began swarming into the chamber. The statue of Athena glowed brighter. The spiders clearly didn't want to approach, but they edged forward as if gathering their courage. Their mother was screaming for help. Eventually they would pour in, overwhelming Malcolm and me. 

He froze.

"Arachne, stop it!" I yelled. "I'll—"

Somehow Arachne twisted in her prison, pointing her abdomen toward the sound of my voice. A strand of silk hit me in the chest like a heavyweight's glove.

I fell, my leg flaring with pain. I slashed wildly at the webbing with my sword as Arachne pulled me toward her snapping spinnerets.

I managed to cut the strand and crawl away, but the little spiders were closing around us. 

I realized our best efforts had not been enough. We wouldn't make it out of there. Arachne's children would kill us at the feet of Athena's statue.

Allie, I thought, My Angel, I'm sorry.

*    *    *

previous | next

1.8 Twin Giants Dead-Set on Destroying the World + a Terrible Sense of Fashion = Bees? (Or, Well, Hydras? Rocket Launchers? Firecrackers?)

Allie

My lungs still felt tight after our little excursion in the nymphaeum. 

I wanted to go back to the surface. I wanted to be dry and sit in the warm sunshine for a long time— preferably with Luke. Maybe even gorge myself on enough Italian wine to forget why I was so upset and stressed and scared in the first place. 

Unfortunately, I didn't know where Luke was. Frank, Hazel, and Leo were still MIA. I still had to save Nico, assuming the poor boy wasn't already dead. And there was, of course, that little matter of the giants destroying Rome, waking Gaea, and taking over the world that was still looming over my head.

Seriously, these monsters and gods were thousands of years old. Couldn't they take a few decades off and let me live my life? Apparently not. It was all so completely fucked up, I wanted to scream at the Fates until they explained why it had to be me they chose to go through these stupid trials. 

Unfortunately, I knew it would be no good. Instead of stomping my feet like a toddler at the unfairness of the world, I squared my shoulders and took the lead as Jason, Piper, and I crawled down the drainage pipe. After thirty feet, it opened into a wider tunnel. To our left, somewhere in the distance, I heard rumbling and creaking, like a huge machine needed oiling. I had absolutely no desire to find out what was making that sound, so I figured that must be the way to go. 

Several hundred feet later, we reached a turn in the tunnel. I held up my hand, signaling for Jason and Piper to wait. I peeked around the corner.

The corridor opened into a vast room with twenty-foot ceilings and rows of support columns. It looked like the same parking-garage-type area I had seen in my dreams, but now much more crowded with stuff.

The creaking and rumbling came from huge gears and pulley systems that raised and lowered sections of the floor for no apparent reason. Water flowed through open trenches (pure, thankfully, I could feel it strengthening me from where I stood), powering water wheels that turned some of the machines. Other machines were connected to huge hamster wheels with hellhounds inside. I couldn't help thinking of Mrs. O'Leary, and how much she would hate being trapped inside one of those. The thought of her sent a rod of ice through my heart. I missed her so much. 

Suspended from the ceiling were cages of live animals— a lion, several zebras, a whole pack of hyenas, and even an eight-headed hydra. Ancient-looking bronze and leather conveyor belts trundled along with stacks of weapons and armor, sort of like the Amazons' warehouse in Seattle, except this place was obviously much older and not as well organized.

Leo would love it, I thought. The whole room was like one massive, unreliable machine.

"What is it?" Piper whispered.

I wasn't even sure how to answer. I couldn’t see the giants, so I gestured for them to come forward and take a look.

About twenty feet inside the doorway, a life-size wooden cutout of a gladiator popped up from the floor. It clicked and whirred along a conveyor belt, got hooked on a rope, and ascended through a slot in the roof.

Jason murmured, "What the heck?"

We stepped inside. I scanned the room. There were several thousand things to look at, most of them in motion, but one good aspect of being an ADHD demigod was that I was comfortable with chaos. About a hundred yards away, I spotted a raised dais with two empty oversized praetor chairs. Standing between them was a bronze jar big enough to hold a person.

"Look." I pointed it out to them.

Piper frowned. "That's too easy."

"Oh, of course it is," I replied. “But…”

"But we have no choice," Jason finished. "We've got to save Nico."

"Yeah." I started across the room, picking my way around conveyor belts and moving platforms.

The hellhounds in the hamster wheels paid us no attention. They were too busy running and panting, their red eyes glowing like headlights. The animals in the other cages gave them bored looks, as if to say, I'd kill you, but it would take too much energy. I felt bad for them, too. 

I tried to watch out for traps, but everything in there looked like a trap. It reminded me too much of the Labyrinth— big, chaotic, and more dangerous with every step. We’d almost died a number of times in the maze back then. I really wished Hazel were here so she could help with her underground skills (and, of course, so she could be reunited with her brother), and I hoped that wherever she was, she was safe.

We jumped over a water trench and ducked under a row of caged wolves. We had made it about halfway to the bronze jar when the ceiling opened over us. A platform lowered. Standing on it like a singer arriving on stage (and, trust me, I know from experience), with one hand raised and his head high, was the purple-haired giant Ephialtes.

Just like I had seen in my dreams, he was pretty small by giant standards— about twelve feet tall— but he had tried to make up for it with his… loud outfit. He'd changed out of the gladiator armor and was now wearing a Hawaiian shirt that even Dionysus would've found vulgar and brash. It had a garish print made up of dying heroes, horrible tortures, and lions eating slaves in the Colosseum. The giant's hair was braided with gold and silver coins. He had a ten-foot spear strapped to his back, which only made a terrible fashion statement worse. He wore bright white jeans and leather sandals on his… well, not feet, but curved snakeheads. The snakes flicked their tongues and writhed as if they didn't appreciate holding up the weight of a giant. 

Ephialtes smiled at us like he was really, really pleased to see us.

"At last!" he bellowed. "So very happy! Honestly, I didn't think you'd make it past the nymphs, but it's so much better that you did. Much more entertaining. You're just in time for the main event!"

Jason and Piper closed ranks on either side of me. Having them there made me feel a little better. This giant was smaller than a lot of monsters I had faced, but something about him made my skin crawl. Ephialtes's eyes danced with a crazy light.

I remembered one time, before the release of silver linings and while I was on set for season four of Game of Thrones, I’d had trouble with a bad stalker who would follow me from country to country, promotion to promotion. It wasn’t new, but it was always unsettling how crazy their eyes got every time they were forced away from me. Wild, like a rabid animal. It haunted my dreams whenever they weren’t plagued by memories of the Battle of Manhattan. 

"Let’s cut to the chase," I called, my voice echoing throughout the vast arena without much effort. "Let our friend go."

"Of course!" Ephialtes said cheerily. "Though I fear he's a bit past his expiration date. Otis, where are you?"

A stone's throw away, the floor opened, and the other giant rose on a platform.

"Otis, finally!" his brother cried with glee. "You're not dressed the same as me! You're…" Ephialtes's expression turned to horror. "What are you wearing?"

Otis looked like the world's largest, grumpiest ballet dancer. He wore a skin-tight baby-blue leotard that I really wished left more to the imagination. The toes of his massive dancing slippers were cut away so that his snakes could protrude. A diamond tiara (I decided to be generous and think of it as a king's crown) was nestled in his green, firecracker-braided hair. He looked glum and miserably uncomfortable, but he managed a dancer's bow, which couldn't have been easy with snake feet and a huge spear on his back.

"Gods and Titans!" Ephialtes yelled. "It's showtime! What are you thinking?"

"I didn't want to wear the gladiator outfit," Otis complained. "I still think a ballet would be perfect, you know, while Armageddon is going on." He raised his eyebrows hopefully at the three of us. "I have some extra costumes—"

"No!" Ephialtes snapped, and for once I was in agreement.

The purple-haired giant faced me. He grinned so painfully, he looked like he was being electrocuted. "Please excuse my brother," he said. "His stage presence is awful, and he has no sense of style."

"Oh, yeah, we’re in full agreement, there." I decided not to comment on his Hawaiian shirt, either. "Um, but about our friend…"

"Oh, him," Ephialtes sneered. "We were going to let him finish dying in public, but he has no entertainment value. He's spent days curled up sleeping. What sort of spectacle is that? Otis, tip over the jar."

Otis trudged over to the dais, stopping occasionally to do a plié. He knocked over the jar, the lid popped off, and Nico di Angelo spilled out. The sight of his deathly pale face and too-skinny frame made my heart stop. I couldn't tell whether he was alive or dead. I wanted to rush over and check, but Ephialtes stood in my way.

"Now we have to hurry," he said. "We should go through your stage directions. The hypogeum is all set!"

I was ready to slice this giant in half and get out of there, but Otis was standing over Nico. If a battle started, Nico was in no condition to defend himself. I needed to buy him some recovery time.

Jason raised his gold gladius. "We're not going to be part of any show," he said, and I had to give him credit for how strong his voice was. "And what's a hypo— whatever-you-call-it?"

"Hypogeum!" Ephialtes said. "You're a Roman demigod, aren't you? You should know! Ah, but I suppose if we do our job right down here in the underworks, you really wouldn't know the hypogeum exists."

"It's the area under a coliseum. It housed all the set pieces and machinery used to create special effects," I filled in for him. Piper nodded beside me. 

Ephialtes clapped enthusiastically. "Exactly so! Are you a student of the theater, my girl?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Um. I have two Tony Awards… so… yeah, I’d say so.” I paused. “I’ve also been an actress since I was two. And a singer since I was sixteen.” 

"Wonderful!" Ephialtes turned toward his brother. "Did you hear that, Otis?"

"Actress," Otis murmured. "Everybody's an actress. No one can dance."

"Actually, I ca— you know what? Nevermind."

"Be nice!" Ephialtes scolded. "At any rate, my girl, you're absolutely right, but this hypogeum is much more than the stageworks for a coliseum. You've heard that in the old days some giants were imprisoned under the earth, and from time to time they would cause earthquakes when they tried to break free? Well, we've done much better! Otis and I have been imprisoned under Rome for eons, but we've kept busy building our very own hypogeum. Now we're ready to create the greatest spectacle Rome has ever seen— and the last!"

At Otis's feet, Nico shuddered. I could have fallen to my knees out of relief. By the gods, he was still alive. The knowledge sent a spiral of hope through my heart that could not be overstated. All we had to do was defeat the giants— without destroying the city of Rome above, of course— find Leo, Frank, and Hazel, then go save Malcolm and Luke, who had hopefully found the Athena Parthenos without dying… Okay, so maybe it was a little easier said than done. 

"So!" I said, hoping to keep the giants' attention on me, rather than a still-recovering Nico. "Stage directions, you said?"

"Yes!" Ephialtes said. "Now, I know the bounty stipulates that you, dear Astraea Jackson and the Luke boy should be kept alive if possible, but honestly, the boy is already doomed, so I hope you don't mind if we deviate from the plan."

My heart stopped and my blood ran cold. I swallowed harshly. "Already doomed? You don't mean he's—"

"Dead?" the giant asked. "No. Not yet. But don't worry! We've got your other friends locked up, you see."

Piper made a strangled sound. "Leo? Hazel and Frank?"

"Those are the ones," Ephialtes agreed. "So we can use them for the sacrifice. We can let the Hermes and Athena boys die, which will please Her Ladyship. And we can use you three for the show! Gaea will be a bit disappointed, but really, this is a win-win. Your deaths will be much more entertaining. You know about that, don’t you, Astraea Jackson? Isn’t that what you said?"

Jason snarled. "You want entertaining? I'll give you entertaining."

Piper stepped forward. Somehow she managed a sweet smile. "I've got a better idea," she told the giants. "Why don't you let us go? That would be an incredible twist. Wonderful entertainment value, and it would prove to the world how cool you are."

Nico stirred. Otis looked down at him. His snaky feet flicked their tongues at Nico's head.

"Plus!" Piper said quickly. "Plus, we could do some dance moves as we're escaping. Perhaps a ballet number!"

Otis forgot all about Nico. He lumbered over and wagged his finger at Ephialtes. "You see? That's what I was telling you! It would be incredible!"

For a second, I thought Piper was going to pull it off. Otis looked at his brother imploringly.

Ephialtes tugged at his chin as if considering the idea.

At last he shook his head. "No… no, I'm afraid not. You see, my girl, I am the anti-Dionysus. I have a reputation to uphold. Dionysus thinks he knows parties? He's wrong! His revels are tame compared to what I can do. That old stunt we pulled, for instance, when we piled up mountains to reach Olympus—"

"I told you that would never work," Otis muttered.

"And the time my brother covered himself with meat and ran through an obstacle course of drakons—"

"You said Hephaestus-TV would show it during prime time," Otis complained. "No one even saw me."

"Well, this spectacle will be even better," Ephialtes promised. "The Romans always wanted bread and circuses— food and entertainment! As we destroy their city, I will offer them both. Behold, a sample!"

Something dropped from the ceiling and landed at my feet: a loaf of sandwich bread in a white plastic wrapper with red and yellow dots.

I picked it up. "Wonder bread? Bro, if you’re going to destroy their city, at least get the good stuff. Did you know Texas Roadhouse sells their rolls by themselves? Like, c’mon." 

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Ephialtes's eyes danced with crazy excitement as he ignored my last comment. "You can keep that loaf. I plan on distributing millions to the people of Rome as I obliterate them."

"Wonder bread is good," Otis admitted. "Though the Romans should dance for it."

I glanced over at Nico, who was just starting to move. I wanted him to be at least conscious enough to crawl out of the way when the fighting started. And I needed more information from the giants about Luke, and where our other friends were being kept.

"Maybe," I ventured, "you should bring our other friends here. You know, spectacular deaths… the more the merrier, right?"

"Hmm." Ephialtes fiddled with a button on his Hawaiian shirt. "No. It's really too late to change the choreography. But never fear. The circuses will be marvelous! Ah… not the modern sort of circus, mind you. That would require clowns, and I hate clowns."

"Everyone hates clowns," Otis said. "Even other clowns hate clowns."

"Exactly," his brother agreed. "But we have much better entertainment planned! The three of you will die in agony, up above, where all the gods and mortals can watch. But that's just the opening ceremony! In the old days, games went on for days or weeks. Our spectacle— the destruction of Rome— will go on for one full month until Gaea awakens."

"Wait," Jason said. "One month, and Gaea wakes up?"

Ephialtes waved away the question. "Yes, yes. Something about August First being the best date to destroy all humanity. Not important! In her infinite wisdom, the Earth Mother has agreed that Rome can be destroyed first, slowly and spectacularly. It's only fitting!"

"So…" I couldn't believe I was talking about the end of the world with a loaf of fucking Wonder bread, of all things, in my hand. "You're what? Gaea's warm-up act?"

Ephialtes's face darkened, as though I’d deeply offended him. "This is no warm-up, demigoddess! We'll release wild animals and monsters into the streets. Our special effects department will produce fires and earthquakes. Sinkholes and volcanoes will appear randomly out of nowhere! Ghosts will run rampant."

"The ghost thing won't work," Otis cut in. "Our focus groups say it won't pull ratings."

"Doubters!" Ephialtes cried. "This hypogeum can make anything work!"

I wanted to chime in about the terrors of having to deal with focus groups and how they sometimes ruined good TV, but Ephialtes stormed over to a big table covered with a sheet before I could get a word in. He pulled the sheet away, revealing a collection of levers and knobs almost as complicated-looking as Leo's control panel on the Argo II.

"This button?" Ephialtes said. "This one will eject a dozen rabid wolves into the Forum. And this one will summon automaton gladiators to battle tourists at the Trevi Fountain. This one will cause the Tiber to flood its banks so we can reenact a naval battle right in the Piazza Navona! Astraea Jackson, you should appreciate that, as the first mortal daughter of Poseidon!"

"Uh… I still think the ‘letting us go’ idea is better," I said. “People— sorry, focus groups— love a plot twist. Ratings would be through the roof. Have you seen Game of Thrones? Better than Robb and Aever—”

"She's right," Piper cut me off, trying again. "Otherwise we get into this whole confrontation thing. We fight you. You fight us. We wreck your plans. You know, we've defeated a lot of giants lately. I'd hate for things to get… out of your control."

Ephialtes nodded thoughtfully. "You're right."

Piper blinked. "I am?"

"We can't let things get out of control," the giant agreed. "Everything has to be timed perfectly. But don't worry. I've choreographed your deaths. You'll love it."

Nico started to crawl away, groaning. I wanted to yell at him to move faster and to groan less, but I didn’t want to draw attention to him. I considered throwing the Wonder bread at him. My high-maintenance ass definitely wouldn't be partaking.

Jason switched his sword hand. "And if we refuse to cooperate with your spectacle?"

"Well, you can't kill us." Ephialtes laughed, as if the idea was ridiculous. "You have no gods with you, and that's the only way you could hope to triumph. So really, it would be much more sensible to die painfully. Sorry, but the show must go on."

This giant was even worse than that sea god Phorcys back in Atlanta, I realized. Ephialtes wasn't so much the anti-Dionysus. He was Dionysus if the god had gone crazy on steroids and realized he would have far more fun with taking things a couple more steps too far. Sure, Dionysus was the god of revelry and out-of-control parties. But Ephialtes was all about riot and ruin for pleasure.

I looked at my friends. "I think I’m getting a bit tired of this guy’s shit. And his shirt is hideous. Forget a crime against fashion, it feels like a crime against me."

"Combat time?" Piper grabbed her horn of plenty.

"I hate Wonder bread," Jason said.

"I'm telling you, those Texas Roadhouse rolls are fire. Anyways…"

Together, we charged.

*    *    * 

Things went wrong immediately, which should have been expected. 

The giants vanished in twin puffs of smoke. They reappeared halfway across the room, each in a different spot. I sprinted toward Ephialtes, but slots in the floor opened under my feet, and metal walls shot up on either side, separating me from my friends.

The walls started closing in on me like the sides of a vise grip. I jumped up and grabbed the bottom of the hydra's cage. I caught a brief glimpse of Piper leaping across a hopscotch pattern of fiery pits, making her way toward Nico, who was dazed and weaponless and being stalked by a pair of leopards.

Meanwhile, Jason charged at Otis, who pulled his spear and heaved a great sigh, as if he would much rather dance Swan Lake than kill another demigod.

I registered all this in a split second, but there wasn't much I could do about it. The hydra snapped at my hands. I swung and dropped, landing in a grove of painted plywood trees that sprang up from nowhere. The trees changed positions as I tried to run through them, so I slashed down the whole forest with Riptide and Shaker.

"Wonderful!" Ephialtes cried. He stood at his control panel about sixty feet to my left. "We'll consider this a dress rehearsal. Shall I unleash the hydra onto the Spanish Steps now?"

He pulled a lever, and I glanced behind me. The cage I had just been hanging from was now rising toward a hatch in the ceiling. In three seconds it would be gone. If I attacked the giant, the hydra would ravage the city.

Cursing, I threw Riptide like a boomerang towards the cage and Shaker towards Ephialtes. The swords weren't designed for that, but the Celestial bronze blade sliced through the chains suspending the hydra and the steel sword went flying towards the giant, but he ducked at the last second. Then, the cage tumbled sideways. The door broke open, and the monster spilled out— right in front of me.

“Fuck off,” I complained.

"Oh, you are such a spoilsport, Astraea Jackson!" Ephialtes called. "Very well. Battle it here, if you must, but your death won't be nearly as good without the cheering crowds."

I bit back a comment about already being used to cheering crowds and stepped forward to confront the monster— then realized I'd just thrown my weapons away.

I couldn’t say that I was always one for strict, thought-out plans, but that was definitely a bit of impulsive decision-making on my part. 

“Ah, shit,” I mumbled. 

I rolled to one side as all eight hydra heads spit acid, turning the floor where I'd been standing into a steaming crater of melted stone. I really hated hydras. It was almost a good thing that I'd lost my swords, since my gut instinct would've been to slash at the heads, and a hydra simply grew two new ones for each one it lost.

The last time I'd faced a hydra (and, well… the only time I’d faced a hydra), I'd been saved by a battleship with bronze cannons, manned by one of my best friends, Clarisse (and, gods, how I missed her and all of my other friends from Camp), that blasted the monster to pieces. That strategy couldn't help me now… or, wait, could it?

The hydra lashed out. I ducked behind a giant hamster wheel and scanned the room, looking for the boxes I'd seen in my dream. I remembered something about… rocket launchers? I couldn’t fully remember, but honestly, I figured it would be harder to think of something the twins didn’t have geared up for their show than did. Rocket launchers almost made more sense to have. 

At the dais, Piper stood guard over Nico as the leopards advanced. She aimed her cornucopia and shot a pot roast over the cats' heads. It must have smelled pretty good, because the leopards raced after it.

About eighty feet to Piper's right, Jason battled Otis, sword against spear. Otis had lost his diamond tiara and looked angry about it. He probably could have impaled Jason several times, but the giant insisted on doing a pirouette with every attack, which slowed him down a ton.

Meanwhile, Ephialtes laughed like a mad scientist as he pushed buttons on his control board, cranking the conveyor belts into high gear and opening random animal cages.

The hydra charged around the hamster wheel. I swung behind a column, grabbed a garbage bag full of Wonder Bread, and threw it at the monster. The hydra spit acid, which was a mistake. The bag and wrappers dissolved in midair. The Wonder Bread absorbed the acid like fire extinguisher foam and splattered against the hydra, covering it in a sticky, steaming layer of high-calorie poisonous goo.

Side note: guys, this just goes to show that you should be as cautious as you can of the things you put into your body. Your body is a temple! You can’t survive solely off of Ramen Noodles and Wonder Bread! This has been a PSA from your friendly neighborhood Allie Jackson. 

Anyway, as the monster reeled, shaking its heads and blinking Wonder acid out of its eyes, I looked around desperately. I didn't see the rocket-launcher boxes, but tucked against the back wall was a strange contraption like an artist's easel, fitted with rows of missile launchers. I spotted a bazooka, a grenade launcher, a giant Roman candle, and a dozen other wicked-looking weapons. They all seemed to be wired together, pointing in the same direction and connected to a single bronze lever on the side. At the top of the easel, spelled in carnations, were the words: HAPPY DESTRUCTION, ROME!

You know, sometimes you just need the next best thing. I bolted toward the device. The hydra hissed and charged after me.

"I know!" Ephialtes cried out happily. "We can start with explosions along the Via Labicana! We can't keep our audience waiting forever."

I scrambled behind the easel and turned it toward Ephialtes. I didn't have Leo's skill with machines, but I certainly knew how to aim a weapon and how to cause a scene— and destroy one.

The hydra barreled toward me, blocking my view of the giant. I hoped this contraption would have enough firepower to take down two targets at once. I tugged at the lever. It didn't budge.

All eight hydra heads loomed over me, ready to melt me into a pool of sludge. I tugged the lever again, throwing all of my body weight against it to force it to move. This time the easel shook and the weapons began to hiss.

"Jason, Piper!" I yelled at the top of my voice. “Fire in the hole!” 

I leaped to one side as the easel fired. The sound was like a fiesta in the middle of an exploding gunpowder factory. The hydra vaporized instantly. 

Unfortunately, the recoil knocked the easel sideways and sent more projectiles shooting all over the room. A chunk of ceiling collapsed and crushed a waterwheel. More cages snapped off their chains, unleashing two zebras and a pack of hyenas. A grenade exploded over Ephialtes's head, but it only blasted me off my feet. It was a good thing I had iron skin, or the blast might have torn my skin from my body. The control board didn't even look damaged.

Across the room, sandbags rained down around Piper and Nico. Piper tried to pull Nico to safety, but one of the bags caught her shoulder and knocked her down.

"Piper!" Jason cried. He ran toward her, completely forgetting about Otis, who aimed his spear at Jason's back.

"Jason, roll!" I yelled.

Jason had fast reflexes and knew better than to stop and question me. As Otis threw, Jason did exactly as I commanded. The point sailed over him and Jason flicked his hand, summoning a gust of wind that changed the spear's direction. It flew across the room and skewered Ephialtes through his side just as he was getting to his feet.

"Otis!" Ephialtes stumbled away from his control board, clutching the spear as he began to crumble into monster dust. "Will you please stop killing me!"

"Not my fault!"

Otis had barely finished speaking when my missile-launching contraption spit out one last sphere of Roman candle fire. The fiery pink ball of death (naturally, it had to be pink. Honestly, I wasn’t complaining) hit the ceiling above Otis and exploded in a beautiful shower of light. Colorful sparks pirouetted gracefully around the giant. Then a ten-foot section of roof collapsed and crushed him flat.

Jason ran to Piper's side. She yelped when he touched her arm. Her shoulder looked unnaturally bent, but she muttered, "Fine. I'm fine." 

Next to her, Nico sat up, looking around him in bewilderment as if just realizing he'd missed a battle.

Sadly, the giants weren't finished. Ephialtes was already re-forming, his head and shoulders rising from the mound of dust. He tugged his arms free and glowered at me.

Across the room, the pile of rubble shifted, and Otis busted out. His head was slightly caved in.

All the firecrackers in his hair had popped, and his braids were smoking. His leotard was in tatters, which was just about the only way it could've looked less attractive on him. If it were a crime against fashion before, it could only be a crime against humanity now. 

"Allie!" Jason shouted. "The controls!"

I unfroze. I found Riptide and Shaker on my neck and wrist, pressed the jewels for my swords, and lunged for the switchboard. I slashed my blades across the top, decapitating the controls in a shower of bronze sparks.

"No!" Ephialtes wailed in despair. "You've ruined the spectacle!"

I turned too slowly. Ephialtes swung his spear like a bat and smacked me across the chest.

I fell to my knees, but the giant must've forgotten I had the curse of Achilles. I swung myself back around on my hand and used the momentum to kick out and send Ephialtes stumbling. 

Jason ran to my side, but Otis lumbered after him. I got to my feet and found myself shoulder to shoulder with Jason. Over by the dais, Piper was still on the floor, unable to get up. Nico was barely conscious.

The giants were healing, getting stronger by the minute. I pretended I was not.

Ephialtes smiled apologetically. "Tired, Astraea Jackson? As I said, you cannot kill us. So I guess we're at an impasse. Oh, wait… no we're not! Because we can kill you!"

"That," Otis grumbled, picking up his fallen spear, "is the first thing sensible thing you've said all day, brother."

The giants pointed their weapons, ready to turn me and Jason into demigod-kabobs.

"We won't give up," Jason growled. "We'll cut you into pieces like Jupiter did to Saturn."

I squared my shoulders and raised my chin. "What he said," I said sharply. "You're both dead. God on our side or not, we will send you back to Tartarus."

"Well, that's a shame," said a new voice.

To my right, another platform lowered from the ceiling. Leaning casually on a pine cone-topped staff was a man in a purple camp shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals with white socks. He raised his broad-brimmed hat, and purple fire flickered in his eyes. 

"I'd hate to think I made a special trip for nothing."

*    *    *

previous | next

1.7 The ACL Tear of Unimaginable Pain and Despair (That Also Makes You Hallucinate Your Girlfriend, A.K.A. the Love of Your Life)

Luke

My shock didn’t fade fast enough. 

I called, “Maia!” far too late. Malcolm and I had fallen separately, and I could only gasp in horror and pain as I missed his fingertips and slammed my shoulder into the stone wall we were freefalling beside. The jolt made my brain feel like it was rattling in my skull, and I couldn’t regain my balance. 

Malcolm hit the ground moments before I did, his shout not enough to overcome the sickening crack of what I assumed was the bones in one of his ankles. There wasn’t enough time for me to wince before I landed beside him. 

Now, I knew I had a high pain tolerance. Going on the run at nine years old and years at Camp had made sure of that. Not to mention, I had a very self-destructive girlfriend who constantly ran head-first into danger, and what kind of person would I be if I let her face it on her own? 

Holding up the sky had been unbearable, but the help of my late sister, Brylie, and Lady Artemis coming to our rescue had allowed for my survival. 

Leaving Allie behind on Mount St. Helens and hearing the ensuing explosion, plus her being MIA and presumed dead for two weeks after, had been gut wrenching. Getting her back was a relief unlike any other.

Taking the poisoned knife for her on the Williamsburg Bridge was probably my worst injury to date, though. The pain had been unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I’d never felt so close to death before in my entire demigod life, and that felt like it was saying something, given I’d been to the Underworld before. I still believed hearing Allie’s fierce defense of me after, directly to the face of Kronos (or, well… my brother’s face, housing the form of Kronos), and the concerned look on her face when she came to see me are what gave me the strength to pull through. 

Then, once, during my first year at Camp Half-Blood, I had torn my MCL in a random fall off of the lava wall. It had hurt, but the Apollo campers had given me a bit of ambrosia and I was fine within the hour. They’d said I’d been lucky not to have torn my ACL, as it would have taken far more ambrosia and far more time to heal. And the pain would have been a lot worse. 

I knew immediately that I hadn’t been so lucky on that go around. 

Pain spiraled up and down my leg until I could no longer hear Malcolm wheezing from his own pain beside me, or concentrate on what new torture we might have fallen into. Only the pain, and how godsdamned agonizing it felt. 

Blackspots danced in front of my eyes. My head spun. My breath became short and rapid.

No, I told myself. You can't go into shock.

I tried to breathe more slowly. I lay as still as possible until the pain subsided from absolute torture to just horrible throbbing. Malcolm still lay beside me, in just as much pain.

Part of me wanted to howl at the world for being so unfair. All this way, just to be stopped by something as common as a torn ACL?

I tried moving and immediately the pain surged. I grit my teeth and clenched my eyes shut, trying to force the pain away again. 

When I opened my eyes once more, I saw Allie. 

Well, not really. I must've blacked out for a second or something, because she was there— glowing and radiant and looking just as beautiful and angelic as ever as she leaned over me, one hand on the ground beside my head, the other reaching up to touch my face. If I concentrate hard enough, I could almost feel the slight chill of her hands, always as cold as the ocean, and the sensation of her long, silky hair tickling my chin. The gems of the necklace that housed Riptide and her usual layered Vivienne Westwood and Tiffany & Co. necklaces glittered in the faint light around me, hanging right in front of my face. 

She smiled at me. "Come on, Baby, you've already made it further than anyone else ever has. You can't give up now." Her hand moved down to my own, guiding it back up to my neck where the sharktooth necklace she’d gifted me rested. I clutched it in my hand until the point of the tooth almost drew blood. "You have to make it back to me. Or I’ll follow you down here myself. I love you."

She kissed my forehead and my eyes subconsciously closed. When they opened again, she was gone.

Malcolm’s groaning had dulled to a mere grunt as he pushed himself to a sitting position to rummage around in his backpack beside me.

I tried to force my emotions back down. Seeing Allie, in my head or otherwise, had both reinvigorated me and depressed me. I wanted her by my side more than ever. But I couldn’t think like that. At camp, I'd been trained to survive in all sorts of bad situations, including injuries like this and the emotional turmoil of missing my girlfriend was not new. 

I wouldn’t let her down. I would make it back to her. 

I looked around me. My sword had skittered a few feet away. In its dim light I could make out the features of the room. Malcolm and I were lying on a cold floor of sandstone blocks. The ceiling was two stories tall. The doorway through which we'd fallen was ten feet off the ground, now completely blocked with debris that had cascaded into the room, making a rockslide. Scattered around me were old pieces of lumber— some cracked and desiccated, others broken into kindling. No wonder I hadn’t had time to stop our falls.

Stupid, I scolded myself. We’d lunged through that doorway, assuming there would be a level corridor or another room. It had never occurred to me that we’d be tumbling into space. The lumber had probably once been a staircase, but had not been for a very long time.

I grit my teeth again and propped myself up on my elbows as I inspected my knee. It was swollen to all hell, but I could still feel my toes, so I counted that as a win. Luckily, it seemed to be my only injury. No blood, no bones sticking out. 

I reached out for a piece of lumber. Even that small bit of movement made me yelp.

The board crumbled in my hand. The wood might be centuries old, or even millennia. I had no way of knowing if this room was older than the shrine of Mithras, or if— like the labyrinth— the rooms were a hodgepodge from many eras thrown randomly together.

"Okay," I groaned. "Prioritize." 

Malcolm winced as he tried to scoot over to me. “I think I broke my ankle,” he said, and I could hear the pain laced in his voice. “Gods, Luke, you definitely tore your ACL.” 

"Oh, wonderful.” I tried pushing myself up and had to stop when the pain made my arms tremble. “I was hoping the pain was from something else.” 

He didn’t reply as he continued rummaging through his backpack. 

I remembered a silly wilderness survival course Grover had taught back at camp. At least, it had seemed silly at the time. First step: Scan your surroundings for immediate threats.

The room didn't seem to be in danger of collapsing. The rockslide had stopped. The walls were solid blocks of stone with no major cracks that I could see. The ceiling was not sagging. Good.

The only exit was on the far wall— an arched doorway that led into darkness. Between us and the doorway, a small brickwork trench cut across the floor, letting water flow through the room from left to right. Maybe plumbing from the Roman days? If the water was drinkable, that was good too.

Piled in one corner were some broken ceramic vases, spilling out shriveled brown clumps that might once have been fruit. Yuck. In another corner were some wooden crates that looked more intact, and some wicker boxes bound with leather straps.

"So, no immediate danger," I said. "Unless something comes barreling out of that dark tunnel."

I glared at the doorway, almost daring our luck to get worse. Nothing happened.

"Okay," Malcolm said, realizing what I was doing. "Grover’s wilderness survival course? Next step: Take inventory."

What could we use? I had my water bottle, and more water in that trench if one of us could reach it.

I had my sword. Malcolm and I both had backpacks full of colorful string (whee), his laptop from Daedalus, the bronze map, some matches, my own phone that I hesitated using because it had been a while since a Hephaestus kid had the chance to update the monster-proofing on it, and some ambrosia for emergencies—

“Ah-ha!” Malcolm cried, and his voice echoed through the tunnel. “Here. I don’t want us to eat these all at once, but neither of us will be able to get up and walking if we don’t take at least two right now.” 

Ah... yeah. This qualified as an emergency. He handed me two pieces and wolfed down two of his own. As usual, it tasted like comforting memories. This time it was salted caramel brownies from a bakery in Queens that Allie was in love with. She always brought them back to camp whenever she left and had the chance to get some. We'd normally eat them on the beach while talking about random things, and once we'd started dating it'd become a special tradition before she’d been taken.

The ambrosia warmed my whole body. The pain in my leg became a dull throb. I knew I was still in major trouble. Even ambrosia couldn't heal broken bones or serious tears right away. It might speed up the process, but best-case scenario, I wouldn't be able to put any weight on my knee for a day or more.

I tried to reach my sword, but it was too far away. I scooted in that direction. Pain flared again, like nails were piercing my leg. My face beaded with sweat, but after one more scoot, I managed to reach the sword.

I felt better holding it— not just for light and protection, but also because it was so familiar.

What next? Grover's survival class had mentioned something about staying put and waiting for rescue, but that wasn't going to happen. Even if Allie somehow managed to trace our steps, the cavern of Mithras had collapsed. I had no doubts that she might decide to move every rock through her own sheer force of will to make it to me, but I didn’t want to get her to that point. 

We could try contacting someone with Daedalus's laptop or my phone, but I doubted we could get a signal down there. Besides, who would I call? I couldn't text anyone who was close enough to help. Demigods never carried cell phones because their signals attracted too much monstrous attention, and none of my friends would be sitting around checking their e-mail. 

So that knocked out everyone close but Allie, who I again did not particularly want coming down after us. We shared our locations with each other on Find My Friends, but godly-world places tended to interfere badly with modern, mortal technology. I wasn’t sure she’d get a good ping on my location, even if I was alright with putting her in danger to follow our footsteps. 

An Iris-message? I had water, but I doubted that I could make enough light for a rainbow.

There was another problem with calling for help: this was supposed to be a duo quest. If we did get rescued, we'd be admitting defeat. Something told me that the Mark of Athena would no longer guide us, nor show me the way. We could wander down there forever, and we'd never find the Athena Parthenos.

So… no good staying put and waiting for help. Which meant we had to find a way to keep going on our own.

I opened my water bottle and drank. I hadn't realized how thirsty I was. When the bottle was empty, I crawled to the gutter and refilled it. Again, I wished Allie were there. She would have been able to make sure the water was clean enough to drink. Still, the water was cold and moving swiftly— good signs that it might be safe to drink. I filled the bottle, tossed it to Malcolm, then cupped some water in my hands and splashed my face. Immediately I felt more alert.

I washed off and cleaned my scrapes as best I could.

I sat up and glared at my knee.

"You had to tear," I scolded it.

"I don't think it's going to reply," Malcolm commented dryly. “But I’m feeling similar sentiments toward my ankle. We need to find something that will immobilize our injuries. It’s the only way we’ll be able to get moving.” 

I nodded and raised my sword and inspected the room again in its bronze light. Now that I was closer to the open doorway, I liked it even less. It led into a dark silent corridor. The air wafting out smelled sickly sweet and somehow evil. Unfortunately, I could see the lit up Mark of Athena further down.

With a lot of gasping and blinking back tears, I crawled over to the wreckage of the stairs. I found two planks that were in fairly good shape and long enough for two splints. Then I scooted over to the wicker boxes and used my knife to cut off the leather straps.

While I was psyching myself up to immobilize my entire leg, I noticed some faded words on one of the wooden crates: HERMES EXPRESS.

I scooted toward the box.

I had no idea what it was doing here, but Hermes delivered all sorts of useful stuff to gods, spirits, and even demigods. Maybe he'd dropped this care package here years ago to help his children with this quest.

I pried it open and pulled out several sheets of Bubble Wrap, but whatever had been inside was gone.

"Damn!" I groaned.

“What is it?” Malcolm asked, the ankle not a hindrance enough to scoot close to me. 

“Just Bubble Wrap. Whatever was in here is gone,” I replied glumly.

But Malcolm’s face brightened. “That should work perfectly!” 

For a moment, I couldn’t possibly figure out why that was a good thing, but Malcolm simply pulled out the rolls and grabbed a few long pieces of lumber and the leather straps. He was half way through a make-shift cast before I realized that he was a genius. 

In first aid practice, we’d learned to splint a fake broken leg for another camper, but I never imagined actually using that information for myself.

It was hard, and incredibly painful, but finally, Malcolm was done. His was considerably shorter than mine, mostly because his only needed support up to his knee, but my own needed my entire leg to be kept straight, but it would work. It had to. 

I searched the wreckage of the stairs until I found part of the railing— a narrow board about four feet long that could serve as a crutch. I put my back against the wall, got my good leg ready, and hauled myself up.

"Whoa." Black spots danced in my eyes, but I stayed upright. "Next time," I muttered, "can we just fight a monster? I feel like that would have hurt far less."

“Preaching to the choir, man,” Malcolm replied. He found his own piece of old wood to use as a crutch and joined my side. 

I turned toward him. “Once more unto the breach, dear friend?” 

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Shakespeare? Really?” 

“Allie,” I replied. 

“Makes sense,” he shot back. “‘In peace there's nothing so becomes a man as modest stillness and humility’.”

I snorted. “Alright, King Henry, let’s get this over with.” 

Above the open doorway, the Mark of Athena blazed to life against the arch.

The fiery owl seemed to be watching us expectantly, as if to say: About time. Oh, you said you wanted monsters? Right this way!

I wondered if that burning mark was based on a real sacred owl. If so, when I survived, I was going to find that owl and punt it like a football.

That thought lifted my spirits. I made it across the trench and hobbled slowly into the corridor.

*    *    * 

The tunnel ran straight and smooth, but after our fall, I decided I didn’t want to tempt the Fates further. I used the wall for support and tapped the floor in front of me with my makeshift crutch to make sure there were no traps.

As Malcolm and I walked, the sickly sweet smell got stronger and set my nerves on edge. The sound of running water faded behind me, which I wasn’t stoked about. Not only were we walking away from drinkable water, but the water reminded me of Allie. Walking further away felt like I was walking away from her. In its place came a dry chorus of whispers like a million tiny voices. They seemed to be coming from inside the walls, and they were getting louder.

I tried to speed up, but I couldn't go much faster without losing my balance or jarring my injury. I hobbled onward, convinced that something was following us. The small voices were massing together, getting closer.

Malcolm touched the wall, and his hand came back covered in cobwebs.

He yelped, then smacked his other hand over his mouth.

"It's only a web," I told him. 

He nodded wide eyed, but the shell-shocked look in his eyes didn’t fade. We'd expected spiders. We knew what was ahead: The weaver. Her Ladyship. The voice in the dark.

But the webs made me realize how close we were.

Malcolm's hand trembled as he wiped it on the stones. 

We made our way down the corridor one painful step at a time. The whispering sounds got louder behind us until they sounded like millions of dried leaves swirling in the wind. The cobwebs became thicker, filling the tunnel. Soon we were pushing them out of our faces, ripping through gauzy curtains that covered us like Silly String.

My heart wanted to break out of my chest and run. I stumbled ahead more recklessly, trying to ignore the pain in my leg.

Finally, the corridor ended in a doorway filled waist-high with old lumber. It looked as if someone had tried to barricade the opening. That didn't bode well, but I used my crutch to push away the boards as best I could with Malcolm's help. We crawled over the remaining pile, getting a few dozen splinters in our hands.

On the other side of the barricade was a chamber the size of a basketball court. The floor was done in Roman mosaics. The remains of tapestries hung from the walls. Two unlit torches sat in wall sconces on either side of the doorway, both covered in cobwebs.

At the far end of the room, the Mark of Athena burned over another doorway. Unfortunately, between us and that exit, the floor was bisected by a chasm fifty feet across. Spanning the pit were two parallel wooden beams, too far apart for both feet, but each too narrow to walk on unless we were acrobats, which we weren't, and didn't have a broken ankle and torn ACL between us, which we did.

The corridor we'd come from was filled with hissing noises. Cobwebs trembled and danced as the first of the spiders appeared: no larger than gumdrops, but plump and black, skittering over the walls and the floor.

What kind of spiders? I had no idea. I only knew they were coming for us, and we only had seconds to figure out a plan.

Malcolm froze, and I knew getting us out of this would be on me. I wanted someone, anyone, to be here with us. I wanted Leo with his fire skills, or Jason with his lightning, or Hazel to collapse the tunnel. Most of all I wanted Allie. I always felt braver when Allie was with me.

I am not going to die here, I told myself. I am going to see Allie again.

The first spiders were almost to the door. Behind them came the bulk of the army— a black sea of spiders.

Trying to ignore the pain, I hobbled to one of the wall sconces and snatched up the torch. The end was coated in pitch for easy lighting. My fingers felt like lead, but I rummaged through my backpack and found the matches. I struck one and set the torch ablaze.

I thrust it into the barricade. The old dry wood caught immediately. Flames leaped to the cobwebs and roared down the corridor in a flash fire, roasting spiders by the thousands. I stepped back from the bonfire. I'd bought us some time, but I doubted that I'd killed all the spiders. They would regroup and swarm again as soon as the fire died.

I stepped to the edge of the chasm and shined the light into the pit, but I couldn't see the bottom. Jumping in would be suicide, even more so than our previous fall had been.

We could try to cross one of the bars hand over hand, but I didn't trust my arm strength with how much pain I was feeling, and I didn't see how either Malcolm or I would be able to haul ourselves up with full backpacks, a broken ankle, and torn ACL once we reached the other side.

I crouched and studied the beams. Each had a set of iron eye hooks along the inside, set at one foot intervals. Maybe the rails had been the sides of a bridge and the middle planks had been removed or destroyed. But eye hooks? Those weren't for supporting planks. More like… 

I glanced at the walls. The same kind of hooks had been used to hang the shredded tapestries. I realized the beams weren't meant as a bridge. They were some kind of loom.

Malcolm’s gasp made me jump. For a moment, I thought another wave of spiders were on us, but he suddenly reached for his backpack and pulled out every bit of string from it. “Give me the string from your backpack,” he said, voice still shaking but invigorated. “I’ve got an idea.” 

I did as he said, then held the flaming torch above his head as he crouched down to work without another word. 

He began weaving between the beams, stringing a cat's cradle pattern back and forth from eye hook to eye hook, doubling and tripling the line. His hands moved with blazing speed as he inched over the chasm. The weaving held our weight.

Before I knew it, we were halfway across.

How had he learned to do this?

It's Athena, I told myself. His mother's skill with useful crafts was obviously about to get us out of this mess, and I hadn’t even known he could weave.

I glanced behind me. The barricade fire was dying. A few spiders crawled in around the edges of the doorway.

Evidently Malcolm could hear them. He continued desperately weaving, and finally we made it across. The moment we were across, I slumped in exhaustion and thrust the torch into his woven bridge. Flames raced along the string. Even the beams caught fire as if they'd been pre-soaked in gasoline.

For a moment, the bridge burned in a clear pattern— a fiery row of identical owls. Had he woven them into the string, or was it some kind of magic? I didn't know, but as the spiders began to cross, the beams crumbled and collapsed into the pit.

I held my breath. I didn't see any reason why the spiders couldn't reach us by climbing the walls or the ceiling. If they started to do that, we'd have to run for it, and I was pretty sure we couldn't move fast enough. 

For some reason, the spiders didn't follow. They massed at the edge of the pit— a seething black carpet of creepiness. Then they dispersed, flooding back into the burned corridor, almost as if we were no longer interesting.

"Did I just pass a test?" Malcolm asked aloud.

“Something like that, probably,” I replied. 

My torch sputtered out, leaving me with only the light of my sword. I realized that I'd left my makeshift crutch on the other side of the chasm and tried not to cuss out loud. 

The weaver, I thought. We must be close. At least we know what's ahead.

We made our way down the next corridor, and I hopped to keep the weight off my bad leg.

We didn't have far to go.

After twenty feet, the tunnel opened into a cavern as large as a cathedral, so majestic that I had trouble processing everything I saw. I guessed that this was the room from Allie's dream, but it wasn't dark. Bronze braziers of magical light, like the gods used on Mount Olympus, glowed around the circumference of the room, interspersed with gorgeous tapestries. The stone floor was webbed with fissures like a sheet of ice. The ceiling was so high, it was lost in the gloom and layers upon layers of spiderwebs.

Strands of silk as thick as pillars ran from the ceiling all over the room, anchoring the walls and the floor like the cables of a suspension bridge.

Webs also surrounded the centerpiece of the shrine, which was so intimidating that I had trouble raising my eyes to look at it. Looming over us was a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena, with luminous ivory skin and a dress of gold. In her outstretched hand, Athena held a statue of Nike, the winged victory goddess— a statue that looked tiny from my perspective, but was probably as tall as a real person.

Athena's other hand rested on a shield as big as a billboard, with a sculpted snake peeking out from behind, as if Athena was protecting it. 

The goddess's face was serene and kindly… and it looked like Athena. I had seen many statues that didn't resemble the gods at all, but this giant version, made thousands of years ago, made me think that the artist must have met Athena in person. They had captured her likeness perfectly.

"The Athena Parthenos," I marvelled as Malcolm gasped beside me. "It's really here."

I realized my mouth was hanging open. I forced myself to swallow. I could have stood there all day looking at the statue, but we had only accomplished half our mission. We had found the Athena Parthenos. Now, how could we rescue it from the cavern?

Strands of web covered it like a gauze pavilion. I suspected that without those webs, the statue would have fallen through the weakened floor long ago. As we stepped into the room, I could see that the cracks below were so wide, I could have lost my foot in them. Beneath the cracks, I saw nothing but empty darkness.

A chill washed over me. Where was the guardian? How could we free the statue without collapsing the floor? We couldn't very well shove the Athena Parthenos down the corridor that we'd come from.

I scanned the chamber, hoping to see something that might help. My eyes wandered over the tapestries, which were heart-wrenchingly beautiful. One showed a pastoral scene so three dimensional, it could've been a window. Another tapestry showed the gods battling the giants. I saw a landscape of the Underworld. Next to it was the skyline of modern Rome. And in the tapestry to my left… 

I caught my breath. It was a portrait of two demigods kissing underwater: Me and Allie, the day our friends had thrown us into the canoe lake at camp. It was so lifelike that I wondered if the weaver had been there, lurking in the lake with a waterproof camera. 

My eyes took in others, and all of a sudden I couldn’t see anything but Allie. One tapestry looked like a screen grab from Game of Thrones, her white hair glittering as she rode a dragon. Another of her holding up the sky. Her lying on a huge pile of trashed gold, a huge spike sticking out of her side. Her with Annabeth’s dagger on Olympus, about to throw it right at Kronos. 

“Is that… Is that Allie?” Malcolm whispered. 

I couldn’t help but gape at the images. "How is that possible?"

Above us in the gloom, a voice spoke. "For ages I have known that you would come, my dears."

I shuddered. The voice sounded just as Allie had described: an angry buzz in multiple tones, female but not human.

In the webs above the statue, something moved— something dark and large.

"I have seen you in my dreams," the voice said, sickly sweet and evil, like the smell in the corridors. "I had to make sure you were worthy… The only children of Athena and Hermes clever enough to pass my tests and reach this place alive. Indeed, you are their most talented children. This will make your death so much more painful to my old enemy when you fail utterly. As for the girl… she does make a wonderful and beautiful subject, doesn't she? A constant reminder to Athena that the most beautiful creation on Earth wasn’t made by her, but by her least favorite of the gods."

The pain in my knee was nothing compared to the icy acid now filling my veins. I wanted to run. But I couldn't show weakness— not now.

"You're Arachne," I called out. "The weaver who was turned into a spider."

The figure descended, becoming clearer and more horrible. "Cursed by that one's mother," she hissed. "Scorned by all and made into a hideous thing… because I was the better weaver."

"But you lost the contest," Malcolm said.

"That's the story written by the winner!" cried Arachne. "Look on my work! See for yourself! See the proof in the face of Astraea Jackson!"

I didn't have to. The tapestries were the best I'd ever seen— better than the witch Circe's work, and, yes, even better than some weavings I'd seen on Mount Olympus. Danny had always joked— whenever Allie wasn’t around to hear him— that plastic surgeons constantly complained to him that people always came into their offices wanting to look like Allie and they could never get it quite right. Her face was just too hard to recreate. But Arachne had done it perfectly. It was almost better than a picture, almost like I was looking at her right in front of me. For a moment, I wondered if Athena truly had lost— if she'd hidden Arachne away and rewritten the truth. But truthfully, it didn't matter.

"You've been guarding this statue since the ancient times," I guessed. "But it doesn't belong here. We're taking it back."

"Ha," Arachne snarked. 

Even I had to admit my threat sounded ridiculous. How could two dudes, covered in Bubble Wrap casts, remove this huge statue from its underground chamber?

"I'm afraid you would have to defeat me first, my dears," Arachne chided. "And alas, that is impossible."

The creature appeared from the curtains of webbing, and I realized that our quest was hopeless.

We had made it so far, and yet we were about to die.

Arachne had the body of a giant black widow, with a hairy red hourglass mark on the underside of her abdomen and a pair of oozing spinnerets. Her eight spindly legs were lined with curved barbs as big as Piper's dagger. If the spider came any closer, her sweet stench alone would have been enough to make me faint. But the most horrible part was her misshapen face.

She might once have been a beautiful woman. Now black mandibles protruded from her mouth like tusks. Her other teeth had grown into thin white needles. Fine dark whiskers dotted her cheeks.

Her eyes were large, lidless, and pure black, with two smaller eyes sticking out of her temples.

The creature made a violent rip-rip-rip sound that might have been laughter.

"Now I will feast on you, my dears," Arachne crooned. "But do not fear. I will make a beautiful tapestry depicting your deaths. And, of course, Son of Hermes, the reaction of your dear girlfriend when she realizes what has happened."

*    *    *

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1.6 I Screamed so Loud, but No One Heard a Thing... the Rain Came Pouring Down When I Was Drowning, That's When I Could Finally Breathe

Allie

Two large glasses of wine later, I was only beginning to feel worse. 

Regret, guilt, depression, and rage mixed horribly with alcohol, and I had to spend over half an hour afterward gorging myself on gelato and water and a concerning number of concerned glances from Antonio before I was able to convince myself that I was capable of leaving on my own. 

Still, it had been difficult. Now that my 'worst-afternoon-of-my-life' with the horses on Geryon's farm had been topped by this, I was feeling a bit sick of life. I couldn’t be sure how long I sat at that table after Luke, Malcolm, and the two dead celebrities went out of sight, just that it was long enough for me to add even more to my list of regrets.

Finally, after I felt like I moped enough, I paid for the meals and the wine and left for the Argo II. Whether I took a detour or two to do a little retail therapy… Well, I suppose it would have been a shame to not take advantage of having a loyal Sales Associate, enough depression to power a rocketship, and the liquid cash needed to buy a Birkin. The Hermès store in Rome loved to see me coming. And that wasn’t even mentioning the stores I was a contracted Brand Ambassador for. I was sure the excursion would be added to the list of things Danny would lecture me for once he saw me again. 

Piper and Jason were just getting back to the Argo II with to-go boxes of some close-by bistro when I arrived back. Both looked like they were about to throw up when they saw the bags in my hands, but I guessed I had a bad look on my face, because they froze as soon as they saw my expression. 

We gathered on deck so that Coach Hedge could hear the story. When I was done, Piper wrapped an arm around me. I wasn’t sure what had done it, but she’d really warmed up to me. 

"So Luke was kidnapped on a motor scooter," she summed up, "by Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn."

"Not kidnapped, exactly," I said, trying to keep the sadness out of my tone. "But I've got this bad feeling…" I took a deep breath, trying hard not to freak out. "Anyway, he's— he's gone. Maybe I shouldn't have let him, but—"

"You had to," Piper finished. "You knew he had to go. Besides, Luke is tough and smart. He'll be fine. And he has Malcolm with him."

Piper put some charmspeak in her voice, which wasn't cool, but I could see the logic behind the action, even if it didn’t work. I needed to be able to focus. If we went into battle, Luke wouldn't want me getting hurt because I was too distracted worrying about him.

Even though the charmspeak didn’t work, I let my shoulders relax a little. "Maybe you're right. Anyway, Gregory— I mean Tiberinus— said we had less time to rescue Nico than we thought. Hazel and the guys aren't back yet?"

Piper checked the time on the helm control. "It's two in the afternoon. We said three o'clock for a rendezvous."

"At the latest," Jason said.

I pointed at Piper's dagger. "Tiberinus said you could find Nico's location… you know, with that."

Piper bit her lip. "I've tried," she said. "The dagger doesn't always show what I want to see. In fact, it hardly ever does."

"Please," I said. "Try again."

"Fine," she sighed, and drew her dagger.

"While you're at it," said Coach Hedge, "see if you can get the latest baseball scores. Italians don't cover baseball worth beans."

“Coach, that’s because you don’t speak Italian,” I said over my shoulder as I walked toward the stairs to put my new retail therapy finds into my room. “And because Italians love soccer way more.” 

Coach scoffed. “Oh, and you do, Missy?” he called, his voice carrying behind me. 

“Sì,” I replied when I rejoined them.

“How—”

"Shh." Piper studied the bronze blade. The light shimmered. We saw a loft apartment filled with Roman demigods. A dozen of them stood around a dining table as Octavian talked and pointed to a big map. Reyna paced next to the windows, gazing down at Central Park.

"That's not good," Jason muttered. "They've already set up a forward base in Manhattan."

"I don’t like the look of those maps," I mumbled. “They don’t have it yet, but they’re close. Camp Half-Blood intentionally makes itself more obvious when demigods get close. I suppose… that’s my fault. Making the gods promise to help bring their children to Camp. I just didn’t know it didn’t discriminate.” 

But my own words echoed in my head. All the children… of all the gods. I had only been thinking about poor, young, defenseless Greek demigods whenever I’d said that to the Olympian Council. New Rome may have been vastly made up of legacies, but that didn’t mean that demigods there were non-existent. It would be a matter of weeks, maybe even days, before they would find Camp. 

"They're scouting the territory," Jason guessed. "Discussing locations and invasion routes."

Light rippled across the blade. We saw ruins— a few crumbling walls, a single column, a stone floor covered with moss and dead vines— all clustered on a grassy hillside dotted with pine trees.

"I was just there," I said. "That's in the old Forum."

The view zoomed in. On one side of the stone floor, a set of stairs had been excavated, leading down to a modern iron gate with a padlock. The blade's image zoomed straight through the doorway, down a spiral stairwell, and into a dark, cylindrical chamber like the inside of a grain silo.

Piper dropped the blade.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked. "It was showing us something."

"We can't go there."

I frowned. "Piper, Nico is dying. We've got to find him. Not to mention, Rome is about to get destroyed."

But it seemed like Piper’s voice wouldn't work. She picked up the knife again. We saw two giants in gladiator armor sitting on oversized praetors' chairs. The giants toasted each other with golden goblets as if they'd just won an important fight. Between them stood a large bronze jar.

The vision zoomed in again. Inside the jar, Nico di Angelo was curled in a ball, no longer moving, all the pomegranate seeds eaten.

"We're too late," Jason said, horrified.

The wine from before soured in my stomach. "No," I said. "No, I can't believe that. Maybe he's gone into a deeper trance to buy time. We have to hurry."

The blade's surface went dark. Piper slipped it back into its sheath, her hands visibly shaking. 

"We should wait for the others," she said. "Hazel, Frank, and Leo should be back soon."

"We can't wait," I insisted.

Coach Hedge grunted. "It's just two giants. If you guys want, I can take them."

"Uh, Coach," Jason said, "that's a great offer, but we need you to man the ship— or goat the ship. Whatever."

Hedge scowled. "And let you three have all the fun?"

I gripped the satyr's arm. "Hazel and the others need you here. When they get back, they'll need your leadership. You're their rock."

"Yeah." Jason managed to keep a straight face. "Leo always says you're his rock. You can tell them where we've gone and bring the ship around to meet us at the Forum."

"And here." Piper unstrapped Katoptris and put it in Coach Hedge's hands.

The satyr's eyes widened. A demigod was never supposed to leave her weapon behind.  "Keep an eye on us with the blade," she suggested. "And you can check the baseball scores."

That sealed the deal. Hedge nodded grimly, prepared to do his part for the quest.

"All right," he said. "But if any giants come this way—"

"Feel free to blast them," Jason said.

"What about annoying tourists?"

"No," we all said in unison.

"Bah. Fine. Just don't take too long, or I'm coming after you with ballistae blazing."

*    *    *

Finding the place was easy. At least, I wasn’t so deep in my misery that I couldn’t remember how to retrace my steps. I brought Piper and Jason straight to the place, residing on an abandoned stretch of hillside overlooking the ruined Forum.

Getting in was easy too, which didn’t make me feel good about what we were doing. I used Riptide to cut through the padlock, and the metal gate creaked open. No mortals saw us. No alarms went off. Stone steps spiraled down into the gloom.

"I'll go first," Jason said.

"No!" Piper yelped.

Jason and I turned toward her.

"Pipes, what is it?" Jason asked. "That image in the blade… you've seen it before, haven't you?" 

She nodded, her eyes stinging. "I didn't know how to tell you. I saw the room down there filling with water. I saw the three of us drowning."

I could see Jason frown out of the corner of my eye, but breathing had suddenly become far more difficult.

I swallowed thickly. "I can't drown," I said slowly, trying to sound composed.

"Maybe the future has changed," Jason speculated. "In the image you showed us just now, there wasn't any water."

I suspected we wouldn't be so lucky. There was no way either of them could have known about my sudden irrational and debilitating fear of drowning, which meant I would need to be the muscle on this part of our adventure. I would have to get over it. 

"Look," I said, putting on a brave face. It was lucky I was a career actress. "It’s water, and I can’t drown. I'll check it out first. It's fine. Be right back."

Before either of them could object, I disappeared down the stairwell.

There wasn't much, but there definitely wasn't water, nor were there any exits, which made my stomach turn again. And that was before the smell of the ocean hit me. I got the feeling that there should have been water in a place like that, but in a bad way rather than good. Something about it gave me an awful feeling.

And then there was something even weirder. 

"Good news: no water that I can tell," I said when I got back up the stairs. "Bad news: I don't see any exits down there. And, uh, weird news: well, you should see this…"

We descended cautiously. I took the lead, with Riptide drawn. Piper followed, and Jason walked behind her, guarding our backs. The stairwell was a cramped corkscrew of masonry, no more than six feet in diameter. 

Finally, we reached the bottom.

I turned. "Watch this last step."

I jumped to the floor of the cylindrical room, which was five feet lower than the stairwell. Why would someone design a set of stairs like that? I had no idea. Maybe the room and the stairwell had been built during different time periods.

The room was just like we'd seen it in Piper’s blade. The curved walls had once been painted with frescoes, which were now faded to eggshell white with only flecks of color. The domed ceiling was about fifty feet above.

Around the backside of the room, opposite the stairwell, nine alcoves were carved into the wall.

Each niche was about five feet off the floor and big enough for a human-sized statue, but each was empty.

The air felt cold and dry. 

"All right." I raised my eyebrows. "Here's the weird part. Watch."

I stepped to the middle of the room.

Instantly, green and blue light rippled across the walls. I heard the sound of a fountain, but there was no water. There didn't seem to be any source of light except for my and Jason's blades, and I couldn’t imagine a place like this having easy access to electricity to flow through it.

"And do you smell that? The ocean?" I asked.

The scent of saltwater and storm was getting stronger, like a summer hurricane approaching.

"An illusion?" Piper asked. 

All of a sudden, I felt strangely thirsty. "I don't know," I replied, my words coming out strangely hazy. "I feel like there should be water here— lots of water. But there isn't any. I've never been in a place like this."

Jason moved to the row of niches. He touched the bottom shelf of the nearest one, which was just at his eye level. "This stone… It's embedded with seashells. This is a nymphaeum."

My mouth was definitely getting drier. 

"A what?" Piper asked. 

"We have one at Camp Jupiter," Jason answered, "on Temple Hill. It's a shrine to the nymphs."

Piper and I ran our hands along the bottom of another niche. Jason was right. The alcove was studded with cowries, conches, and scallops. The seashells seemed to dance in the watery light. They were ice cold to the touch. This place felt unnatural, hostile, and very dry.

Jason stepped back and examined the row of alcoves. "Shrines like this were all over the place in Ancient Rome. Rich people had them outside their villas to honor nymphs, to make sure the local water was always fresh. Some shrines were built around natural springs, but most were man-made."

"So… no actual nymphs lived here?" Piper asked hopefully.

"Not sure," Jason responded. "This place where we're standing would have been a pool with a fountain. A lot of times, if the nymphaeum belonged to a demigod, he or she would invite nymphs to live there. If the spirits took up residence, that was considered good luck."

"For the owner," I countered. "But it would also bind the nymphs to the new water source, which would be great if the fountain was in a nice sunny park with fresh water pumped in through the aqueducts—"

"But this place has been underground for centuries," Piper guessed. "Dry and buried. What would happen to the nymphs?"

The sound of water changed to a chorus of hissing, like ghostly snakes. The rippling light shifted from sea blue and green to purple and sickly lime. Above us, the nine niches glowed. They were no longer empty.

Standing in each was a withered old woman, so dried up and brittle they reminded me of mummies— except mummies didn't normally move. Their eyes were dark purple, as if the clear blue water of their life source had condensed and thickened inside them. Their dresses were tattered and faded, but I suspected they’d once been made of a fine silk. Their hair, which would have been piled in curls in the past, arranged with jewels in the style of Roman noblewomen, was now disheveled and dry as straw. If water cannibals actually existed, my guess would have been that this is what they would look like.

"What would happen to the nymphs?" said the creature in the center niche.

She was in even worse shape than the others. Her back was hunched like the handle of a pitcher.

Her skeletal hands had only the thinnest papery layer of skin. On her head, a battered wreath of golden laurels glinted in her roadkill hair.

She fixed her purple eyes on Piper. "What an interesting question, my dear. Perhaps the nymphs would still be here, suffering, waiting for revenge."

I couldn’t believe my luck had allowed me to make it back up to Piper and Jason on my first trek down. When I turned back to the way we came, the doorway had disappeared. Naturally. Nothing was there but a blank wall. I suspected it wasn't just an illusion. Even if we’d thought running was our best course of action, we would have never made it to the opposite side of the room before the zombie nymphs could jump on us.

Jason and I stood to either side of Piper, our swords ready. 

"Who are you?" I demanded.

The central nymph turned her head. "Ah… names. We once had names. I was Hagno, the first of the nine!"

I thought it was a cruel joke that a hag like her would be named Hagno, but I decided not to say that. I figured our chances of survival had already decreased significantly enough without me opening my mouth. 

"The nine," Jason repeated. "The nymphs of this shrine. There were always nine niches."

"Of course." Hagno bared her teeth in a vicious smile. "But we are the original nine, Jason Grace, the ones who attended the birth of your father."

Jason's sword dipped with his jaw. "You mean Jupiter? You were there when he was born?"

"Zeus, we called him then," Hagno said, her voice full of venom. "Such a squealing whelp. We attended Rhea in her labor. When the baby arrived, we hid him so that his father, Kronos, would not eat him. Ah, he had lungs, that baby! It was all we could do to drown out the noise so Kronos could not find him. When Zeus grew up, we were promised eternal honors. But that was in the old country, in Greece."

The other nymphs wailed and clawed at their niches. They seemed to be trapped in them, I realized, as if their feet were glued to the stone along with the decorative seashells.

"When Rome rose to power, we were invited here," Hagno continued. "A son of Jupiter tempted us with favors. A new home, he promised. Bigger and better! No down payment, an excellent neighborhood. Rome will last forever."

"Forever," the others hissed, their voices echoing around us.

"We gave in to temptation," Hagno said. "We left our simple wells and springs on Mount Lycaeus and moved here. For centuries, our lives were wonderful! Parties, sacrifices in our honor, new dresses and jewelry every week. All the demigods of Rome flirted with us and honored us."

The nymphs wailed and sighed.

"But Rome did not last," Hagno snarled. "The aqueducts were diverted. Our master's villa was abandoned and torn down. We were forgotten, buried under the earth, but we could not leave. Our life sources were bound to this place. Our old master never saw fit to release us. For centuries, we have withered here in the darkness, thirsty… so thirsty."

The others clawed at their mouths.

I felt my own throat closing up. I had to fight to keep my own hands at my sides. 

"I'm so sorry," I told her, genuinely truthful. My time on Mount St. Helens had given me enough of a glimpse of what would happen to me if I were deprived of water. I couldn’t imagine how the nymphs must have felt. "That must have been terrible. But we are not your enemies. If we can help you—"

"Oh, such a sweet voice!" Hagno cried. "Such beautiful features. A gem in this cruel world! I was once young like you. My voice was as soothing as a mountain stream. But do you know what happens to a nymph's mind when she is trapped in the dark, with nothing to feed on but hatred, nothing to drink but thoughts of violence? Yes, my dear. You can help us."

"But… I'm the daughter of Poseidon. Maybe I can summon a new water source." Even as the words left my mouth, they felt feeble. 

"Ha!" Hagno cried, and the other eight echoed, "Ha! Ha!"

"Indeed, daughter of Poseidon," Hagno crooned. "I know your father well. Ephialtes and Otis promised you would come."

I felt my breath stutter in my chest.

"The giants," Piper said quietly beside me. "You're working for them?"

"They are our neighbors." Hagno smiled, but it felt more pointed than gentle. "Their chambers lie beyond this place, where the aqueduct's water was diverted for the games. Once we have dealt with you… Rather, once you have helped us… the twins have promised we will never suffer again."

I didn’t completely know what she meant by “deal with us” but I didn’t suspect she was intending to let me leave to find a way to free them. 

Hagno turned to Jason. "You, child of Jupiter— for the horrible betrayal of your predecessor who brought us here, you shall pay. I know the sky god's powers. I raised him as a baby! Once, we nymphs controlled the rain above our wells and springs. When I am done with you, we will have that power again. And you, Piper McLean. So young, so lovely, so gifted with your sweet voice. From you, we will reclaim our beauty.”

Piper gulped beside me. “I don’t really think—” 

"And Allie Jackson, the first mortal daughter of the sea god." Hagno's purple eyes glistened. "The Princess of Atlantis. From you, we will take water, an endless supply of water. And your beauty. So blessed by Aphrodite, so lusted after. We will attract others, just as you do."

"Endless?" My eyes darted from one nymph to the other. "Uh… Look, I don't know about endless. But maybe I could spare a few gallons. And, um… I don’t really think my face is for sale."

Hagno was not to be deterred. “We have saved our last life force for this day. We are very thirsty. From you three, we shall drink!"

All nine niches glowed. The nymphs disappeared, and water poured from their alcoves— sickly dark water, like oil.

*    *    * 

The basin filled with alarming speed. Piper, Jason, and I pounded on the walls, looking for an exit, but we found nothing. We climbed into the alcoves to gain some height, but with water pouring out of each niche, it was like trying to balance at the edge of a waterfall. Even as I stood in a niche, the water was soon up to my knees. From the floor, it was probably eight feet deep and rising fast.

"I could try lightning," Jason said. "Maybe blast a hole in the roof?"

"That could bring down the whole room and crush us," Piper countered.

"Or electrocute us," I added.

"Not many choices," Jason replied, his voice tight.

"Let me search the bottom," I said. "If this place was built as a fountain, there has to be some way to drain the thing. You guys, check the niches for secret exits. Maybe the seashells are knobs, or… something." 

It was a desperate idea, even for me, but I couldn’t come up with another plan, and the other two weren’t exactly giving me much to work with.

I swallowed harshly then jumped in the water. The panic hadn't totally set in yet, but I knew it was only a matter of time. Pretty soon after I’d accepted my birth as a daughter of Poseidon, I’d felt comfortable breathing in water. Once I was able to work around how odd it felt, it was no problem. 

But this wasn’t the same. Something about this water felt… off. Instead of invigorating me like most other water sources did, this one seemed to only tire me out. Due to my career as a singer, I could hold my breath for quite a long time, even aside from being able to breathe underwater, but I had only just started feeling around when I finally needed to breathe. I took one gulp of water and immediately felt like I was about to die. 

Of course, you dumb bitch, I thought. This isn't normal water. You can't just breathe it in. 

I broke the surface, gasping and flailing. Piper offered her hand, and I almost pulled her in before she could help me up.

"Couldn't breathe," I choked. "The water… It’s not normal. Hardly made it back."

As the water rose around us, I felt it affecting me more. My leg muscles trembled like I'd been running for miles. My hands turned wrinkled and dry, despite being in the middle of a fountain and having already jumped in. I was drenched and shivering.

Piper and Jason moved like their limbs weighed a million pounds. Jason's face was pale. He seemed to be having trouble holding his sword.  

"They're taking our power," Piper said. "Draining us."

"Jason," I coughed, "do the lightning."

Jason raised his sword. The room rumbled, but no lightning appeared. The roof didn't break.

Instead, a miniature rainstorm formed at the top of the chamber. Rain poured down, filling the fountain even faster, but it wasn't normal rain. The stuff was just as dark as the water in the pool.

Every drop stung my skin.

"Not what I wanted," Jason groaned.

The water was up to our necks now. I could feel my strength fading. 

"We'll survive," Piper murmured to herself, but she couldn't charmspeak a way out of this.

Soon the poisonous water would be over our heads. We'd have to swim, and this stuff was already paralyzing us.

We were going to drown. 

That's when the panic set in. I could feel tears threatening to fall down my face, but I stubbornly kept them at bay. I wouldn’t die via water. I refused. I hadn’t died in the heart of an active volcano, nor at the hands of the most powerful Titan. I would not die from something that powered my soul. 

I regrouped and tried forcing the water back, but it was no use. "I can't— can't control it!"

"We can't fight this," Piper said. "If we hold back, that just makes us weaker."

"What do you mean?" Jason shouted over the rain.

The water was up to our chins. Another few inches, and we'd have to swim. But the water wasn't halfway to the ceiling yet. I hoped that meant that we still had time.

"The horn of plenty," Piper said. "We have to overwhelm the nymphs with fresh water, give them more than they can use. If we can dilute this poisonous stuff—"

"Can your horn do that?" I struggled to keep my head above water, which was only helping my fear of drowning.

"Only with your help. I need you both to channel everything you've got into the cornucopia," she said. "Allie, think about the sea."

"Saltwater?"

"Doesn't matter! As long as it's clean. Jason, think about rainstorms— much more rain. Both of you hold the cornucopia."

We huddled together as the water lifted us off our ledges. 

Nothing happened. The rain came down in sheets, still dark and acidic.

My legs felt like lead. The rising water swirled, threatening to pull us under. I could feel my strength fading.

"No good!" Jason yelled, spitting water.

"We're getting nowhere," I agreed.

"You have to work together," Piper cried. "Both of you think of clean water— a storm of water. Don't hold anything back. Picture all your power, all your strength leaving you."

"That's not hard!" I cried.

"But force it out!" she said. "Offer up everything, like— like you're already dead, and your only goal is to help the nymphs. It's got to be a gift… a sacrifice."

We got quiet at that word.

"Let's try again," Jason said. "Together."

I forced myself to think back to the time I blew up Mount Saint Helens. How had I done that again? 

Clearwater blasted from the horn with such force, it pushed us against the wall. The rain changed to a white torrent, so clean and cold, it made me gasp.

"It's working!" Jason cried.

"Too well," I said. "We're filling the room even faster!"

"Don't stop!" Piper said. "We have to dilute the poison until the nymphs are cleansed."

"What if they can't be cleansed?" Jason asked. "They've been down here turning evil for thousands of years."

"Just don't hold back," Piper told him. "Give everything. Even if we go under—"

Our heads hit the ceiling. The rainclouds dissipated and melted into the water. The horn of plenty kept blasting out a clean torrent. 

“We can do this,” I gasped, just before my head went under. 

I held my breath. The current roared in my ears. Bubbles swirled around us. Light still rippled through the room, and I was surprised I could see it. Was the water getting clearer? 

My lungs were about to burst, but I poured my last energy into the cornucopia. Water continued to stream out, though there was no room for more. Would the walls crack under the pressure?

Spots appeared before my eyes.

I wasn’t sure when I finally reconnected with the water around me. For a moment, I thought the roar in my ears was my own dying heartbeat. Then I realized the room was shaking. Was that me or the water pressure? The water swirled faster. I felt myself sinking.

With my last strength, I kicked upward. My head broke the surface and I gasped for breath.

The cornucopia stopped. The water was draining almost as fast as it had filled the room.

With a cry of alarm, I realized that Piper's and Jason's faces were still underwater. I hoisted them up. Instantly, Piper gulped and gasped for air, but Jason was as lifeless as a rag doll.

Piper helped me keep his head above water. She did what she could to wake him— yelled his name, shook him, even slapped his face when he still didn’t respond. She barely noticed when all the water had drained away and left us on the damp floor.

"Jason!" 

"Piper," I said, "I can help."

I knelt next to her and touched Jason's forehead. Water gushed from Jason's mouth. His eyes flew open, and a clap of thunder threw Piper backward. He shot up, still gasping, but the color was coming back to his face.

"Sorry," Jason coughed. "Didn't mean to—"

Piper tackled him with a hug. 

I grinned. "In case you're wondering, that was clean water in your lungs. I could make it come out with no problem."

"Thanks, Allie." Jason clasped my hand weakly. "That was an incredible idea, Pipes. You just saved us all."

Yes, she did, a voice echoed through the chamber.

The niches glowed. Nine figures appeared, but they were no longer withered creatures. They were young, beautiful nymphs in shimmering blue gowns, their glossy black curls pinned up with silver and gold brooches. Their eyes were gentle shades of blue and green.

As we watched, eight of the nymphs dissolved into vapor and floated upward. Only the nymph in the center remained.

"Hagno?" Piper asked.

The nymph smiled. "Yes, my dear. I didn't think such selflessness existed in mortals… especially in demigods. No offense."

I got to my feet, glad the clean water had allowed for me to will myself dry. "How could we take offense? You just tried to drown us and suck out our lives."

Hagno winced. "Sorry about that. I was not myself. But you have reminded me of the sun and the rain and the streams in the meadows. Allie and Jason, thanks to you, I remembered the sea and the sky. I am cleansed. But mostly, thanks to Piper. She shared something even better than clear running water." Hagno turned to her. "You have a good nature, Piper. And I'm a nature spirit. I know what I'm talking about."

Hagno pointed to the other side of the room. The stairs to the surface reappeared. Directly underneath, a circular opening shimmered into existence, like a sewer pipe, just big enough to crawl through. I suspected this was how the water had drained out.

"You may return to the surface," Hagno said. "Or, if you insist, you may follow the waterway to the giants. But choose quickly, because both doors will fade soon after I am gone. That pipe connects to the old aqueduct line, which feeds both this nymphaeum and the hypogeum that the giants call home."

"Ugh." I pressed on my temples. "I've just almost drowned as a daughter of Poseidon. You couldn’t have let us fight the giants first? I want to go home."

"Oh, home…" Hagno sounded completely sincere. "I once thought home was a complicated word, but now you have unbound us from this place. My sisters have gone to seek new homes… a mountain stream, perhaps, or a lake in a meadow. I will follow them. I cannot wait to see the forests and grasslands again, and the clear running water."

"Uh," I said nervously, "things have changed up above in the last few thousand years."

"Nonsense," Hagno said. "How bad could it be? Pan would not allow nature to become tainted. I can't wait to see him, in fact."

I was close to telling her Pan was for real dead and I had witnessed it, but I stopped myself. Might as well let her figure it out when we were out of the immediate line of fire. I suspected she wouldn’t be so forgiving this time. 

"Good luck, Hagno," Piper said. "And thank you."

The nymph smiled one last time and vaporized.

Briefly, the nymphaeum glowed with a softer light, like a full moon. I smelled exotic spices and blooming roses. I heard distant music and happy voices talking and laughing. I guessed I was hearing hundreds of years of parties and celebrations that had been held at this shrine in ancient times, as if the memories had been freed along with the spirits.

"What is that?" Jason asked nervously.

Piper got a faraway look in her eyes. "The ghosts are dancing. Come on. We'd better go meet the giants."

*    *    *

previous | next

1.5 By the Gods, I Thought I Was Done With Dark Underground Mazes, but It Turns Out That I Hadn't Even Gotten Started With Them

Luke

I figured it could've been worse. If I had to go on a horrifying duo quest that was highly unlikely for me to come back from, at least I'd gotten to have lunch with Allie on the banks of the Tiber first. Now I got to take a scooter ride with… Who did Allie say he looked like again? Gregory… Peck? She probably would have given me another kick to the shin for not remembering his name, but she was well aware I wasn’t nearly as pop-cultured as she was. 

As the baby-blue scooters zipped through the streets of Rome, the goddess Rhea Silvia gave Malcolm and I a running commentary on how the city had changed over the centuries.

"The Sublician Bridge was over there," she said, pointing to a bend in the Tiber. "You know, where Horatius and his two friends defended the city from an invading army? Now, there was a brave Roman!"

"And look, boys," Tiberinus added, "that's the place where Romulus and Remus washed ashore."

He seemed to be talking about a spot on the riverside where some ducks were making a nest out of torn-up plastic bags and candy wrappers. If Grover had been there, he likely would’ve uprooted the entire quest to have us clean it up, the King of the Wild he was. It made me feel guilty that we just kept riding along.

"Ah, yes," Rhea Silvia sighed happily. "You were so kind to flood yourself and wash my babies ashore for the wolves to find."

"It was nothing," Tiberinus said humbly.

I was beginning to feel light-headed. The river god was talking about something that had happened thousands of years ago, when this area was nothing but marshes and maybe some shacks. Tiberinus saved two babies, one of whom went on to found the world's greatest empire (despite how sour the words felt even as I thought them). It was nothing. Gods, it was like speaking to another Allie. 

Rhea Silvia pointed out a large modern apartment building. "That used to be a temple to Venus. Then it was a church. Then a palace. Then an apartment building. It burned down three times. Now it's an apartment building again. And that spot right there—"

"Please," I finally cut her off, squinting in the sunlight. "You're making me dizzy."

Rhea Silvia laughed. "I'm sorry, Luke. Layers upon layers of history here, but it's nothing compared to Greece. Athens was old when Rome was a collection of mud huts. You'll see… Well, if you survive, of course."

"That’s optimistic," I muttered bitterly.

"Here we are," Tiberinus announced. He pulled over in front of a large marble building, the facade covered in city grime but still beautiful. Ornate carvings of Roman gods decorated the roofline. The massive entrance was barred with iron gates, heavily padlocked.

"We're going in there?" I wished we'd brought Leo, or at least borrowed some wire cutters from his tool belt.

Rhea Silvia covered her mouth and giggled. "No, my boy. Not in it. Under it."

Tiberinus pointed to a set of stone steps on the side of the building— the sort that would have led to a basement apartment if this place were in Manhattan.

"Rome is chaotic aboveground," Tiberinus told us, "but that's nothing compared to below ground. You must descend into the buried city, Luke Castellan and Malcolm Pace. Find the altar of the foreign god. The failures of your predecessors will guide you. After that… I am unsure."

My backpack felt heavy on my shoulders. Malcolm and I had been studying the bronze map for days now, scouring Daedalus's laptop for information. Days of not being able to sleep next to Allie and, unfortunately, the few things I had learned made this quest seem even more impossible. 

Malcolm swallowed. "Our siblings… None of them made it all the way to the shrine, did they?"

Tiberinus shook his head. "But you know what prize awaits, if you can liberate it."

"Yes," we said in unison. 

"It could bring peace to the children of Greece and Rome," Rhea Silvia said. "It could change the course of the coming war."

"If we live, of course," I said, trying and failing to keep my voice from sounding too bitter.

Tiberinus nodded sadly. "Because you also understand the guardian you must face?"

I remembered what Malcolm had told me of what happened after I’d passed out at Fort Sumter, and the dream Allie had described— the hissing voice in the dark. Malcolm shivered beside me. 

"Yes," I answered for him. 

Rhea Silvia looked at her husband. "They are brave. Perhaps they are stronger than the others."

"I hope so," said the river god, but the look on his face was a steadily-growing grimace. I wondered how many sets of mine and Malcolm’s siblings he’d seen off to their deaths. "Good bye, Luke, Malcolm. And good luck."

Rhea Silvia beamed. "We have such a lovely afternoon planned! Off to shop!"

Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn sped off on their baby-blue motorbike. Then Malcolm and I turned and, without a word to each other, descended the steps.

Immediately, I felt dread overcome me. 

I'd been underground plenty of times. Hell, I’d led a quest into the Labyrinth and had somehow gotten all of my questmates out alive. But halfway down the steps, I realized just how much this was reminding me of that very trek. I froze. 

Gods… It was like I’d forgotten just how much I needed Allie by my side. Her disappearance had been one of the worst times of my life. She was my rock, the shining beacon of hope that made me feel like life was worth living. Like… like maybe living under the gods wasn’t the worst thing in the world so long as they feared her as much as they respected her. 

Now, this descent into darkness was feeling far too similar to our time in the Labyrinth. Except this time, Allie wasn’t by my side. And the only time she hadn’t been by my side as I walked through the Labyrinth was right after almost getting herself killed in the heart of Mount St. Helens. 

Her presence loomed loudly, but it was even more noticeable when she wasn’t there. I knew where she was, of course. I knew, at least for the moment, that she was safe. And that she wasn't there, by my side where she belonged. It felt so unnatural and made me feel even more out of place.

What if this is a trick? I couldn't help but wonder. What if those other children of Athena and Hermes died because Tiberinus and Rhea Silvia led them into a trap? But… I would have been a pretty sorry Son of the Trickster God to not be able to see through it. There would have been no point in the long goose chase just to kill us. 

I forced myself to keep going at Malcolm's pace. Even if it was a trap, I had no choice. If the Athena Parthenos was really down there, it could decide the fate of the war. It could save Camp Half-Blood. 

At the bottom of the steps, we reached an old wooden door with an iron pull ring. Above the ring was a metal plate with a keyhole. I reached out to pick the lock, but as soon as I touched the pull ring, a fiery shape burned in the middle of the door: the silhouette of Athena's owl. Smoke plumed from the keyhole, smelling oddly of reptiles. Malcolm reached for the knob and without either of us prying, the door opened.

I looked up one last time. At the top of the stairwell, the sky was a square of brilliant blue. Mortals would be enjoying the warm afternoon. Couples would be holding hands at the cafés. Tourists would be bustling through the shops and museums. Regular Romans would be going about their daily business, probably not considering the thousands of years of history under their feet, and definitely unaware of the spirits, gods, and monsters that still dwelt here, or the fact that their city might be destroyed today unless a certain group of demigods succeeded in stopping the giants.

Allie would likely be making her way back to the Argo II… 

I pulled out my sword, just in case. Malcolm and I shared a look, shrugged, then stepped through the doorway.

We found ourselves in a basement that was an architectural cyborg. Ancient brick walls were crisscrossed with modern electrical cables and plumbing. The ceiling was held up with a combination of steel scaffolding and old granite Roman columns.

The front half of the basement was stacked with crates. Out of curiosity, I opened a few.

Some were packed with multicolored spools of string— like for kites or arts and crafts projects. Other crates were full of cheap plastic gladiator swords. Maybe at one point this had been a storage area for a tourist shop.

In the back of the basement, the floor had been excavated, revealing another set of steps— these of white stone— leading still deeper underground. We crept to the edge. Even with the glow cast by my sword, it was too dark to see below.

I rested my hand on the wall and found a light switch.

I flipped it. Glaring white fluorescent bulbs illuminated the stairs. Below, I saw a mosaic floor decorated with deer and fauns— maybe a room from an Ancient Roman villa, just stashed away under this modern basement along with the crates of string and plastic swords.

We climbed down. The room was about twenty feet square. The walls had once been brightly painted, but most of the frescoes had peeled or faded. The only exit was a hole dug in one corner of the floor where the mosaic had been pulled up. I crouched next to the opening. It dropped straight down into a larger cavern, but I couldn't see the bottom.

I heard running water maybe thirty or forty feet below. The air didn't smell like a sewer— just old and musty, and slightly sweet, like moldering flowers. Perhaps it was an old water line from the aqueducts. There was no way down.

"I'm not jumping," Malcolm muttered, the first words either of us had said since delving into the darkness.

As if in reply, something glowed in the darkness. The Mark of Athena blazed to life at the bottom of the cavern, revealing glistening brickwork along a subterranean canal forty feet below. The fiery owl seemed to be taunting us: Well, this is the way, kids. So you'd better figure something out. 

“Do you see that?” I asked, pointing. 

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “You serious? There’s something there?” 

I nodded. “Same as was on the door we just went through. It’s the Mark of Athena.” 

He groaned. “Well, I suppose it makes sense now, why it’s a child of Hermes… But now how are we supposed to get down?” 

I considered our options. "Too dangerous to jump. No ladders or ropes," I muttered. “I have my shoes, but they’re a little worn down, after all the traveling I did to find Allie, and I haven’t been able to talk to my Dad to get them fixed. I could get myself down, but I think two would be too much.” 

Malcolm nodded, biting his lip. "I was thinking about borrowing some metal scaffolding from above to use as a fire pole, but it looks like it's all bolted in place. And I don’t want to cause the building to collapse on top of us."

He looked frustrated, but I knew why. He didn't have any super mega-awesome powers that could help us in this situation. Not that I did, either, really. I knew what our latitude and longitude coordinates were and I could run really fast and pick locks, but none of those abilities would help us together. It was no good to only be able to get myself down if Malcolm couldn’t, too. 

Allie could control water. If she were with us, she could have raised the water level and simply floated down or even just jumped. 

Hazel, from what she had said, could find her way underground with flawless accuracy and even create or change the course of tunnels. She could easily make a new path.

Leo would pull just the right tools from his belt and build something to do the job. 

Frank could turn into a bird. 

Jason could simply control the wind and float down. 

Even Piper with her charmspeak… Well, she couldn’t talk some stairs out of thin air, but maybe she could have convinced Tiberinus and Rhea Silvia to be a little more helpful.

What did the two of us have that would help? A bronze sword that did nothing special and a cursed silver coin. I had my backpack with Daedalus's laptop, a water bottle, a few pieces of ambrosia for emergencies, and a box of matches— probably useless, but Chiron had drilled into my head that I should always have a way to make fire. The shark tooth necklace Allie had gifted me still hung around my neck, but that couldn’t exactly help us, either. 

Malcolm went quiet and then suddenly climbed back to the basement and stared at the open crates. Kite string and plastic swords.

I had no idea what he was thinking, but something passed over his expression that was akin to relief. I wasn’t sure what could have come to him, but if it kept his spirits high, I supposed that had to be good. 

I was certain he had never made anything out of kite string and plastic swords— neither were things in ready supply at Camp Half-Blood’s arts-and-crafts schedules— but it seemed easy, natural. Within minutes he'd used a dozen balls of string and a crate full of swords to create a makeshift rope ladder— a braided line, woven for strength yet not too thick, with swords tied at two-foot intervals to serve as hand-and-footholds. 

“Malcolm,” I marvelled, “how the hell…?” 

He seemed just as awed as I felt. “I don’t… know,” he admitted. “I just… had a feeling that I could.” 

I decided not to question it. As a test, we tied one end around a support column and leaned on the rope with all our weight. The plastic swords bent under us, but Malcolm had provided some extra bulk to the knots in the cord, so he could keep a better grip.

The ladder wouldn't win any design awards, but it might get him to the bottom of the cavern safely. First, I stuffed my backpack with the leftover spools of string. I wasn't sure why, but they were one more resource, and not too heavy. 

We headed back to the hole in the mosaic floor. Malcolm secured one end of the ladder to the nearest piece of scaffolding and lowered the rope into the cavern. With one final huff, he began climbing down. 

“Maia!” I called, and the wings in my shoes erupted. I sheathed my sword once more and followed.

*    *    *

I looked down just in time to see the brickwork edge that resided beside the canal and barely missed soaking my shoes. Malcolm, as he made his way down, wasn’t so lucky. I heard the splash of his feet behind me, but luckily the canal was only a few inches deep. 

“Alright?” I asked. 

He nodded. “It’s freezing, though.” 

I pulled out my sword once more for light. The shallow channel ran down the middle of a brickwork tunnel.

Every few yards, ceramic pipes jutted from the walls. I guessed that the pipes were drains, part of the ancient Roman plumbing system, though it was amazing to me that a tunnel like this had survived, crowded underground with all the other centuries' worth of pipes, basements, and sewers.

I couldn’t help but compare it with the Labyrinth once more. 

When Daedalus died in the Battle of the Labyrinth, the entire maze had collapsed— or so I believed. But what if that was only in America? What if this was an older version of the labyrinth? Daedalus once told us that his maze had a life of its own. It was constantly growing and changing. Maybe the labyrinth could regenerate, like monsters. That would make sense. It was an archetypal force, as Chiron would say— something that could never really die.

If this was part of the labyrinth… 

I shivered. I decided not to dwell on that, but I also decided not to assume our directions were accurate. The labyrinth made distance meaningless. If we weren't careful, we could walk twenty feet in the wrong direction and end up in Poland.

Just to be safe, I tied a new ball of string to the end of the rope ladder. I could unravel it behind us as we explored. An old trick, but a good one. Malcolm gave me an odd look, but didn’t question it. 

We debated which way to go. The tunnel seemed the same in both directions. Then, about fifty feet to our left, the Mark of Athena blazed against the wall. I could swear it was glaring at us with those big fiery eyes, as if to say, What's your problem? Hurry up!

I was really starting to hate that fucking owl.

“That way,” I said with finality through a scowl. 

By the time we reached the spot, the image had faded, and I'd run out of string on my first spool.

As I was attaching a new line, I glanced across the tunnel. There was a broken section in the brickwork, as if a sledgehammer had knocked a hole in the wall. I crossed to take a look.

Sticking my sword through the opening for light, I could see a lower chamber, long and narrow, with a mosaic floor, painted walls, and benches running down either side. It was shaped sort of like a subway car.

I stuck my head into the hole, hoping nothing would bite or chop it off. At the near end of the room was a bricked-off doorway. At the far end was a stone table, or maybe an altar.

Hmm… The water tunnel kept going, but I was sure this was the way. I remembered what Tiberinus had said: Find the altar of the foreign god. There didn't seem to be any exits from the altar room, but it was a short drop onto the bench below. We should be able to climb out again with no problem.

Still holding the string, I lowered myself down, telling Malcolm to stay there just in case.

The room's ceiling was barrel-shaped with brick arches, but I didn't like the look of the supports. Directly above my head, on the arch nearest to the bricked-in doorway, the capstone was cracked in half. Stress fractures ran across the ceiling. The place had probably been intact for two thousand years, but I decided I'd rather not spend too much time in there. With my luck, it would collapse right on top of my head if I wasn’t careful.

The floor was a long narrow mosaic with seven pictures in a row, like a time line. At my feet was a raven. Next was a lion. Several others looked like Roman warriors with various weapons.

The rest were too damaged or covered in dust for me to make out details. The benches on either side were littered with broken pottery. The walls were painted with scenes of a banquet: a robed man with a curved cap like an ice cream scoop, sitting next to a larger guy who radiated sunbeams.

Standing around them were torchbearers and servants, and various animals like crows and lions wandered in the background. I wasn't sure what the picture represented, but it didn't remind me of any Greek legends that I knew, which didn’t give me much confidence. 

At the far end of the room, the altar was elaborately carved with a frieze showing the man with the ice-cream-scoop hat holding a knife to the neck of a bull. On the altar stood a stone figure of a man sunk to his knees in rock, a dagger and a torch in his outraised hands. I was still clueless as to what those images meant.

I took one step toward the altar and my foot went CRUNCH. I looked down and realized I'd just put my shoe through a human rib cage.

I swallowed back a yelp. Where had that come from? I had glanced down only a moment before and hadn't seen any bones. Now the floor was littered with them. The rib cage was obviously old. It crumbled to dust as I removed my foot. Nearby lay a corroded bronze dagger very much like the one I gave Annabeth years ago. Either this dead person had been carrying the weapon, or it had killed him. It took me a moment to recollect myself. 

I held out my blade to see in front of me. A little farther down the mosaic path sprawled a more complete skeleton in the remains of an embroidered red doublet, like a man from the Renaissance. His frilled collar and skull had been badly burned, as if the guy had decided to wash his hair with a blowtorch.

Wonderful, I thought. I lifted my eyes to the altar statue, which held a dagger and a torch. It had to be some kind of test, I decided. These two guys had failed. Well, correction: not just two guys.

More bones and scraps of clothing were scattered all the way to the altar. I couldn't guess how many skeletons were represented, but I was willing to bet they were all demigods from the past, children of Athena and Hermes on the same quest.

"I will not be another skeleton on your floor," I called to the statue, hoping I sounded brave. I heard Malcolm joining me in the room, his footsteps even more hesitant than mine had been.

Well, said a watery voice, echoing through the room. Looks like another two have decided to join the fray.

Indeed, said a second voice. Curious.

The chamber rumbled. Dust fell from the cracked ceiling. Malcolm and I bolted for the hole we'd come through, but it had disappeared. The string had been severed. Malcolm clambered up on the bench and pounded on the wall where the hole had been, hoping the hole's absence was just an illusion, but the wall was solid.

We were trapped.

Along the benches, a dozen ghosts shimmered into existence— glowing purple men in Roman togas, like the Lares I'd seen at Camp Jupiter. They glared at me as if I'd interrupted their meeting.

I did the only thing I could. I stepped in front of Malcolm and put my back to the bricked-in doorway. I tried to look confident, though the scowling purple ghosts and the demigod skeletons at my feet made me want to tear down the altar and then curl into a ball.

"I'm a Son of Hermes," I said, as boldly as I could manage. "He's a Son of Athena."

"Greeks," one of the ghosts spat with disgust. "That is even worse."

At the other end of the chamber, an old-looking ghost rose with some difficulty (do ghosts have arthritis? If a person has arthritis and dies, does his ghost retain the arthritis?) and stood by the altar, his dark eyes fixed on me. My first thought was that he looked like the pope. He had a glittering robe, a pointed hat, and a shepherd's crook.

"This is the cavern of Mithras," crooned the old ghost. "You have disturbed our sacred rituals. You cannot look upon our mysteries and live."

"I don't want to look upon your mysteries," I assured him. "We're following the Mark of Athena. Show us the exit, and we'll be on our way."

My voice sounded calm, which surprised me. I had no idea how to get out of there, but I knew Malcolm and I had to succeed where our siblings had failed. Our path led farther on— deeper into the underground layers of Rome. I could feel it in my bones.

The failures of your predecessors will guide you, Tiberinus had said. After that… I do not know.

The ghosts mumbled to each other in Latin. I caught a few unkind words about Greek demigods and Athena. 

Finally, the ghost with the pope hat struck his shepherd's crook against the floor. The other Lares fell silent.

"Your Greek gods and goddesses are powerless here," said the pope. "Mithras is the god of Roman warriors! He is the god of the legion, the god of the empire!"

"He wasn't even Roman," Malcolm protested. "Wasn't he, like, Persian or something?"

"Sacrilege!" the old man yelped, banging his staff on the floor a few more times. "Mithras protects us! I am the pater of this brotherhood—"

"The father," Malcolm translated.

"Do not interrupt! As pater, I must protect our mysteries."

"What mysteries?" I asked. "A dozen dead guys in togas sitting around in a cave?"

The ghosts muttered and complained, until the pater got them under control with a taxicab whistle. The old guy had a good set of lungs. "You are clearly an unbeliever. Like the others, you must die."

The others. I made an effort not to look at the skeletons.

I scoured my brain, grasping for anything I knew about Mithras. Most of my knowledge had come from what Allie had told me Aphrodite had said during their tea time. He had a secret cult for warriors. He was popular in the legion. He was one of the gods who'd supplanted Athena as a war deity. Aside from that, I had no idea, and I didn't know if Malcolm did, either. Mithras just wasn't one of the gods we talked about at Camp Half-Blood.

I doubted the ghosts would wait while I whipped out Daedalus's laptop and did a search.

I scanned the floor mosaic— seven pictures in a row. I studied the ghosts and noticed all of them wore some sort of badge on their toga— a raven, or a torch, or a bow. I heard Malcolm’s breath stutter behind me as he took in the same images. 

"You have rites of passage," he blurted out. "Seven levels of membership. And the top level is the pater."

The ghosts let out a collective gasp. Then they all began shouting at once.

"How does he know this?" one demanded.

"The boy has gleaned our secrets!"

"Silence!" the pater ordered.

"But he might know about the ordeals!" another cried.

"The ordeals!" I said confidently, even though I felt like an idiot. "We both know about them!"

Another round of incredulous gasping.

"Ridiculous!" The pater yelled. "The boy lies! Son of Hermes and Athena, choose your way of death. If you do not choose, the god will choose for you!"

"Fire or dagger," I guessed.

Even the pater looked stunned. Apparently he hadn't remembered there were victims of past punishments lying on the floor. I hated to look upon them, but I was glad that I did. I would not join them. 

"How— how did you... ?" He gulped. "Who are you?"

"A Son of Hermes," I said again. "But not just any son. I am… uh, the pater in my brotherhood. The magna mater, in fact. There are no mysteries to me. Mithras cannot hide anything from my, or my friend's, sight."

"The magna pater!" a ghost wailed in despair. "The big father!"

"Kill them!" One of the ghosts charged, his hands out to strangle us, but he passed right through me.

"You're dead," I reminded him bluntly. "Sit down."

The ghost looked embarrassed and took his seat.

"We do not need to kill you ourselves," the pater growled. "Mithras shall do that for us!"

The statue on the altar began to glow.

I pressed my hands against the bricked-in doorway at my back. That had to be the exit.

The mortar was crumbling, but it was not weak enough for Malcolm and me to break through with brute force.

I looked desperately around the room— the cracked ceiling, the floor mosaic, the wall paintings, and the carved altar. Malcolm began to talk, pulling deductions from the top of his head.

"It is no good," he said. "We know all. You test your initiates with fire because the torch is the symbol of Mithras. His other symbol is the dagger, which is why you can also be tested with the blade. You want to kill us, just as…”

He paused, eyes scanning the room swiftly. 

I picked up where he left off. “Just as Mithras killed the sacred bull!"

The ghosts wailed and covered their ears. Some slapped their faces as if to wake up from a bad dream.

"The big father knows!" one said. "It is impossible!"

Unless you look around the room, I thought, my confidence growing.

I glared at the ghost who had just spoken. He had a raven badge on his toga— the same symbol as on the floor at my feet.

"You are just a raven," I scolded. "That is the lowest rank. Be silent and let me speak to your pater."

The ghost cringed. "Mercy! Mercy!"

At the front of the room, the pater trembled— either from rage or fear, I wasn't sure which. His pope hat tilted sideways on his head like a gas gauge dropping toward empty. "Truly, you know much, big father. Your wisdom is great, but that is all the more reason why you cannot leave. The weaver warned us you both would come."

"The weaver…" I realized with a sinking feeling what the pater was talking about: the thing in the dark from Allie's dream, the guardian of the shrine. "The weaver fears us. She doesn't want us to follow the Mark of Athena. But you will let us pass."

"You must choose an ordeal!" the pater insisted. "Fire or dagger! Survive one, and then, perhaps!"

I looked down at the bones of my and Malcolm's siblings. The failures of your predecessors will guide you.

They'd all chosen one or the other: fire or dagger. Maybe they'd thought they could beat the ordeal. But they had all died. We needed a third choice.

I stared at the altar statue, which was glowing brighter by the second. I could feel its heat across the room. My instinct was to focus on the dagger or the torch, but instead I concentrated on the statue's base. I wondered why its legs were stuck in stone. Then it occurred to me: maybe the little statue of Mithras wasn't stuck in the rock. Maybe he was emerging from the rock.

"Neither torch nor dagger," I said firmly. "There is a third test, which we will pass."

"A third test?" the pater demanded.

"Mithras was born from rock," Malcolm said, and his voice was slightly breathless— the same way it got whenever he found the answer to a question he’d had for a long time. "He emerged fully grown from the stone, holding his dagger and torch."

The screaming and wailing told me I had guessed correctly.

"They know all!" a ghost cried. "That is our most closely guarded secret!"

Then maybe you shouldn't put a statue of it on your altar, I thought. But I was glad they were stupid enough to keep the answers to the test right out in the open. And I didn’t even have to swipe these from the teacher’s desk.

I gestured dramatically to the wall we'd come from. "We were born from stone, just as Mithras was! Therefore, we have already passed your ordeal!"

"Bah!" the pater spat. "You came from a hole in the wall! That's not the same thing."

Okay. So apparently the pater wasn't a complete moron, but I remained confident. I glanced at the ceiling, and another idea came to me— all the details clicking together.

"I have control over the very stones." I raised my arms. "I will prove my power is greater than Mithras. With a single strike, I will bring down this chamber."

The ghosts wailed and trembled and looked at the ceiling, but I knew they didn't see what I saw. These ghosts were warriors, not engineers. I knew this ancient chamber was on the verge of collapse. I recognized what the stress fractures in the ceiling meant, all emanating from a single point— the top of the stone arch just above us. The capstone was about to crumble, and when that happened, assuming I could time it correctly… I looked at Malcolm and saw he came to the same conclusion as me. I held back a sigh. It was just another reason to wish Allie were by my side. She could have created an earthquake and taken the chamber down without a single lift of her finger. 

"Impossible!" the pater shouted. "The weaver has paid us much tribute to destroy any children of Hermes and Athena who would dare enter our shrine. We have never let her down. We cannot let you pass."

"Then you fear my power!" I said. "You admit that I could destroy your sacred chamber!"

The pater scowled. He straightened his hat uneasily. I knew I'd put him in an impossible position. He couldn't back down without looking cowardly.

"Do your worst, Son of Hermes," he decided. "No one can bring down the cavern of Mithras, especially with one strike."

I hefted my sword. The ceiling was low. I could reach the capstone easily, but I'd have to make my one strike count.

The doorway behind me was blocked, but in theory, if the room started to collapse, those bricks would weaken and crumble. We would be able to bust our way through before the entire ceiling came down— assuming, of course, that there was something behind the brick wall, not just solid earth… And assuming that we were quick enough and strong enough and lucky enough. Otherwise, we were about to become demigod pancakes.

"Well, boys," Malcolm said, watching as I readied myself. "Looks like you chose the wrong war god."

I struck the capstone. The Celestial bronze blade shattered it like a sugar cube. For a moment, nothing happened.

"Ha!" the pater gloated. "You see? Athena and Hermes have no power here!"

The room shook. A fissure ran across the length of the ceiling and the far end of the cavern collapsed, burying the altar and the pater. More cracks widened. Bricks fell from the arches. Ghosts screamed and ran, but they couldn't seem to pass through the walls. Apparently they were bound to this chamber even in death.

I turned. I slammed against the blocked entrance with all my might, and the bricks gave way. As the cavern of Mithras imploded behind me, Malcolm and I lunged into darkness and found ourselves falling.

*    *    *

previous | next

1.4 Help, I'm Still At the Restaurant, Still Sitting in a Corner I Haunt Cross-Legged in the Dim Light, They Say, "What a Sad Sight..."

Allie

I got up, hoping Jason wouldn't spot my tears, but found myself unlucky. 

"Woah, you okay, Moviestar?"

"Yeah," I muttered quietly. Even to me, my voice sounded broken. "Just a bad dream."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"I'd rather not." I wiped my tears from my face, but that didn't do anything about the bloodshot eyes and the redness of my face. 

The sky was a brilliant blue, as if the stormy weather had never happened. The sun rose over the distant hills, so everything below us shone and sparkled like the entire city of Rome had just been covered in glitter. I'd been there many times before, but the city never failed to take my breath away. 

The sheer vastness of Rome always grabbed me by the throat and made it hard to breathe. The city seemed to have no regard for the limits of geography. It spread through hills and valleys, jumped over the Tiber with dozens of bridges, and just kept sprawling to the horizon. 

Streets and alleys zigzagged with no rhyme or reason through quilts of neighborhoods. Glass office buildings stood next to excavation sites. A cathedral stood next to a line of Roman columns, which stood next to a modern soccer stadium. In some neighborhoods, old stucco villas with red-tiled roofs crowded the cobblestone streets, so that if I concentrated just on those areas, I could imagine I was back in ancient times. 

Everywhere I looked, there were wide piazzas and traffic-clogged streets. Parks cut across the city with a crazy collection of palm trees, pines, junipers, and olive trees, as if Rome couldn't decide what part of the world it belonged to— or maybe it just believed all the world still belonged to Rome.

It was as if the city knew about my dream of Gaea. It knew that the earth goddess intended on razing all human civilization, and this city, which had stood for thousands of years, was saying back to her: You want to dissolve this city, Mother Earth? Give it your best shot. Bet you’ll fail.

In other words, it was the Coach Hedge of mortal cities— only taller. And prettier. 

"We're setting down in that park," Leo announced, pointing to a wide green space dotted with palm trees. "Let's hope the Mist makes us look like a large pigeon or something."

I snapped my fingers and felt the familiar rush of wind from my finger tips. I stepped forward, overlooking even more of the beautiful city, and said, "this is normal." 

To anyone who didn't know how manipulating the Mist worked, it probably made me look stupid. At any rate, it wouldn’t be the strongest, given the large area I had to cover, but I hoped I still had enough control to keep up hidden. It was the first words I’d said since joining the others. It caught Luke’s attention almost immediately. He turned to look at me and I almost wish I hadn't done it. I took one look at my face and knew I'd been crying.

We're talking about this later, his expression told me. I just looked down and twisted my rings around my fingers.

My trick with the Mist seemed to work. I didn't notice any cars veering off the road or Romans pointing to the sky and screaming, "Aliens!" The Argo II set down in the grassy field and the oars retracted.

The noise of traffic was all around us, but the park itself was peaceful and deserted. To our left, a green lawn sloped toward a line of woods. An old villa nestled in the shade of some weird looking pine trees with thin curvy trunks that shot up thirty or forty feet, then sprouted into puffy canopies. They reminded me of trees in those Dr. Seuss books my mom used to read me when I was little.

To our right, snaking along the top of a hill, was a long brick wall with notches at the top for archers— maybe a medieval defensive line, maybe Ancient Roman. I wasn't sure.

To the north, about a mile away through the folds of the city, the top of the Colosseum rose above the rooftops, looking just like it did the last time I'd seen it. That's when my hands started shaking. We were actually there. My trip to Alaska had been pretty exotic, but now I was in the heart of the old Roman Empire, enemy territory for a Greek demigod, but this time with the knowledge that I was one. In a way, this place had shaped my life as much as New York. I’d visited and walked down the streets without a single thought of how much danger I had truly been in. 

Jason pointed to the base of the archers' wall, where steps led down into some kind of tunnel.

"I think I know where we are," he said. "That's the Tomb of the Scipios."

Luke frowned. "The what?"

I finally looked up from my rings, and the way the diamonds glittered in the sun. "They were a noble Roman family,” I told him, forcing my voice to sound clear. “One of the dudes is regarded as one of the best military leaders of all time. Danny told me that the last— a while ago. Back when I was filming for The Lost Eagle."

Jason nodded. "I've studied maps of Rome before. I've always wanted to come here, but…"

Nobody bothered finishing that sentence. Looking at my friends' faces, I could tell they were in just as much awe as I was the first time I'd arrived. We'd made it. We'd landed in Rome— the Rome. 

"Plans?" Hazel asked. "Nico has until sunset— at best. And this entire city is supposedly getting destroyed today."

I shook myself out of my daze. "You're right. Luke, Malcolm… Did you guys zero in on that spot from that bronze map?"

Luke’s blue eyes turned navy, which I could interpret just fine: Remember what I said, Astraea. Keep that dream to yourself.

"Yes," he said carefully. "It's on the Tiber River. I think I can find it, but I should—"

"Take me along," I finished. "Yeah, you're so right, Babe."

Luke glared daggers at me. "That's not—"

"Safe," I supplied. "One demigod walking through Rome alone. I'll go with you as far as the Tiber, and Coach can go with Malcolm along the other side and we’ll see who finds where you’re supposed to go first. We can use that letter of introduction, and hopefully, meet the river god Tiberinus. Maybe he can give you some help or advice. Then you can go on with Malcolm from there.”

We had a silent staring contest, but I didn't back down. I smiled innocently at him, willing him to listen to me.

"Six months away and I somehow forgot how stubborn you can get, Angel," he muttered. "I can’t argue against that, I suppose. Hazel, now that we're in Rome, do you think you can pinpoint Nico's location?"

Hazel blinked, as if coming out of a trance from watching the Allie + Luke Show.

"Um… Hopefully, if I get close enough. I'll have to walk around the city. Frank, would you come with me?"

Frank beamed. "Absolutely."

"And, uh… Leo," Hazel added timidly. "It might be a good idea if you came along too. The fish-centaurs said we'd need your help with something mechanical."

"Yeah," Leo said, "no problem."

Frank's smile turned into something more like Chrysaor's mask.

Luke and I visibly winced. Ever since they'd gotten knocked into the Atlantic, they hadn't acted quite the same. It wasn't just the two guys competing for Hazel. It was like the three of them were locked together, acting out some kind of murder mystery, but they hadn't yet discovered which of them was the victim. 

Piper drew her knife and set it on the rail. "Jason and I can watch the ship for now. I'll see what Katoptris can show me. But, Hazel, if you guys get a fix on Nico's location, don't go in there by yourselves. Come back and get us. It'll take all of us to fight the giants."

She didn't say the obvious: even all of us together wouldn't be enough, unless we had a god on our side. I decided not to bring that up. That would have to be an issue we could sort out later. 

"Good idea," I said. "How about we plan to meet back here at… what?"

"Three this afternoon?" Jason suggested. "That's probably the latest we could rendezvous and still hope to fight the giants and save Nico. If something happens to change the plan, try to send an Iris message."

The others nodded in agreement, but I noticed several of them glancing at Luke and Malcolm.

Another thing no one wanted to say: Luke and Malcolm would be on a different schedule. They might be back at three, or much later, or… never. They would be off on their own, searching for the Athena Parthenos.

Coach Hedge grunted. "Luke, Allie… I don't like you two troublemakers going off on your own. Just remember: behave. If I hear about any funny business, I will ground you until the Styx freezes over!"

The idea of getting grounded when we were about to risk our lives was so ridiculous, I couldn't help smiling. I didn’t even bother mentioning the fact that Luke and I were still adults with free will. 

"We'll be back soon," I promised. I looked around at my friends, trying not to feel like this was the last time we'd ever be together. "Good luck, everyone."

Leo lowered the gangplank, and Luke and I were first off the ship.

*    *    * 

Under literally any other circumstances, wandering through Rome with Luke would have been my idea of a great time. 

We hadn’t made it to Rome together yet, but he’d followed me to Paris and London for two Fashion Weeks the winter before our war against Kronos. To the public at that time, anytime we were seen out and about, he was just a new addition to my security detail. After defeating Kronos, and subsequently becoming boyfriend and girlfriend, I’d taken a semi-break from the public eye. I’d released a Deluxe version of my album, forever immortal (entitled forever immortal (mortality is fragile), which had resulted in a few publicity interviews and I’d attended a premier or two, but otherwise, I’d steered pretty clear of cameras. 

Luke and I hadn’t exactly gotten a chance to truly talk about how we’d like to deal with the public before I was taken by Hera. Of course, there had been that scary incident of someone breaking onto my Hamptons property and taking pictures of us kissing on my balcony, but we’d decided together that I wouldn’t address it until we were ready to out our relationship. I knew he didn’t care— in fact, I knew it was his preference to shout it from the rooftops that he'd snatched me up— but I knew first-hand how ruthless being in the public eye could be. I wanted to hold off subjecting him to that for as long as possible. 

And now I’d been forced into an almost year-long hiatus in terms of the public. I was sure there were plenty of people frothing at the mouth to be the first to get a photo of me in months. The thought had sent Luke and I into the nearest Prada, where I could acquire sunglasses and a hat (and a new bag and headscarf, but that was neither here nor there) and could be assured privacy and secrecy. 

“This pen is so smooth,” I marveled in Italian as I signed my name on the receipt my usual sales associate, Markus, handed me. 

“Keep it, Signorina Jackson,” he replied. “Please, we have billions in the back.” 

I used the pen to pull my hair into a French twist as I smiled at him. “Oh, grazie. This is why you’re my favorite, my friend,” I said. “I get to keep the pen. Do you see why I’m so dedicated to designer, Luke?” 

“Angel, I’m pretty sure everyone would be dedicated to designer if they had your disposable income.” 

After leaving with my newly acquired goodies and making sure I couldn’t be easily recognized, Luke and I held hands as we navigated the winding streets. We spent much of our time dodging cars and crazy Vespa drivers, squeezing through mobs of tourists, and wading through oceans of pigeons. The day warmed up quickly. Once we got away from the car exhaust on the main roads, the air smelled of baking bread and freshly cut flowers.

We aimed for the Colosseum because that was an easy landmark, but getting there proved harder than we anticipated. As big and confusing as the city had looked from above, it was even more so on the ground. Several times we got lost on dead-end streets. We found beautiful fountains and huge monuments by accident. Despite having been there before, it had been a while— around five years— since I’d been back and at that time, I had Danny and a tour guide guiding me. Typically, I spent my time in Italy in Milan. 

Once, I spotted a glowing purple ghost— a Lar— glaring at us from the window of an apartment building.

Another time I saw a white-robed woman— maybe a nymph or a minor goddess— holding a wicked-looking knife, slipping between ruined columns in a public park. Nothing attacked us, but I felt like we were being watched, and the watchers were not friendly.

Finally, we reached the Colosseum, where a dozen guys in cheap gladiator costumes were scuffling with the police— plastic swords versus batons. I wasn't sure what that was about, but me and Luke decided to keep walking. Sometimes mortals were even stranger than monsters.

We made our way west, stopping every once in a while to ask directions to the river. It was immensely helpful that I’d become fluent in the language after a few too many Milan Fashion Weeks. Given how threatening everything felt, I wanted to keep off of my phone as much as possible. And relying on people was much easier when we shared a language we could each speak. 

Next discovery: it was excessively hot and Luke and I were in need of some drinks, so we went to the nearest souvenir shop and, while our only goal was to get drinks, we spent a good fifteen minutes shopping. I would always be eternally grateful to my credit card. 

The drinks helped, but we were still hot and tired by the time we arrived at the Tiber River. The shore was edged with a stone embankment. A chaotic assortment of warehouses, apartments, stores, and cafés crowded the riverfront.

The Tiber itself was wide, lazy, and caramel-colored. A few tall cypress trees hung over the banks.

The nearest bridge looked fairly new, made from iron girders, but right next to it stood a crumbling line of stone arches that stopped halfway across the river— ruins that might've been left over from the days of the Caesars.

"This is it." Luke pointed at the old stone bridge. "I recognize that from the map. But what do we do now?"

I was glad he had said we. I didn't want to leave him yet. In fact, I wasn't sure I could make myself do it when the time came. Gaea's words came back to me: Will you fall alone?

I stared at the river, wondering how we could make contact with the god Tiberinus. I didn't really want to jump in. The Tiber didn't look much cleaner than the East River back home, where I'd had too many encounters with grouchy river spirits. If this quest was already damn-near impossible, I didn’t want to lessen Luke’s chances by pissing off an Italian river spirit. 

I gestured to a nearby café with tables overlooking the water. During my time in Rome five years prior, I’d become a regular at the place. "How about a bite to eat? That place is one of my favorites."

One thing to note for all you touristy-types: with all the differing cultures in the world, it is highly likely you will come across one that works on a different timetable that you’re used to. While it may have been noon in Italy, most Italians wouldn’t go for lunch for a while. Even being Allie Jackson, the waiter— Antonio, who I was glad to see still working at the place even after five years— at the café looked a little startled to see us until I took off my sunglasses. 

The surprise faded from Antonio’s face quickly, leaving behind recognition. "Allie Jackson! Oh, it’s been too long. It's a pleasure to see you again," he said, a large grin across his face.

"Sorry, I know it’s a little early for lunch in Italy, but we didn't eat breakfast," I replied in Italian.

"No, that's perfectly fine. You know we will always serve you whenever you like. What are you thinking today? Your usual?"

Luke and I both decided on waters, but he got a panini, while I ordered my usual— a Panzanella, which is a salad that kept me fed the last time I was there because of how quickly I fell in love with it. I was shocked Antonio had even remembered that detail given the time that had passed. 

We held hands across the table. I was content just to look at Luke in the sunlight. It always made his hair so bright and warm. His eyes took on the colors of the sky, alternating shades of blue. I wondered if I should tell Luke my dream about Gaea destroying Camp Half-Blood. I decided against it. He didn't need anything else to worry about— not with what he was facing.

But it made me wonder… What would have happened if we hadn't scared off Chrysaor's pirates?

Luke and I would've been put in chains and taken to Gaea's minions. Our blood would have been spilled on ancient stones. I guessed that meant we would've been taken to Greece for some big horrible sacrifice. But Luke and I had been in plenty of bad situations together. We could've figured out an escape plan, saved the day… and Luke wouldn't be facing this duo quest in Rome that could very easily end his life.

It doesn't matter when you fall, Gaea had said.

I knew it was a horrible and selfish wish, but I almost regretted that we hadn't been captured at sea.

At least Luke and I would've been together.

"You shouldn't feel ashamed," Luke said, breaking me out of my reverie. "You're thinking about Chrysaor, aren't you? Swords can't solve every problem, Angel, you know this. You saved us in the end."

In spite of myself, I smiled. "How do you do that? You always know what I'm thinking."

"I know you," he said simply.

And you like me anyway? I wanted to ask, but I bit it back.

"Allie," he said, using his serious voice, "you can't carry the weight of this whole quest by yourself. It's impossible. That's why there are seven of us. And you'll have to let me search for the Athena Parthenos with Malcolm."

"I missed you," I confessed. "For months, even while I was asleep. A huge chunk of our lives was taken away. If I lost you again—"

Lunch arrived. Antiono gave us a polite smile. "It is a beautiful view," he said, nodding toward the river. Evidently, he suspected we were on the cusp of an argument. "Enjoy, please."

Once he left, we ate in silence. 

"You'll have to trust me," Luke said. I almost thought he was talking to his sandwich, because he didn't meet my eyes. "You've got to believe I'll come back."

I swallowed another bite, trying to ignore how it tasted like sand in my mouth. "I believe in you. That's not the problem. But come back from where?"

The sound of a Vespa interrupted us. I looked along the riverfront and did a double-take.

The motor scooter was an old-fashioned model: big and baby blue. The driver was a guy in a silky gray suit. Behind him sat a younger woman with a headscarf, her hands around the man's waist. They weaved between café tables and puttered to a stop next to Luke and me.

"Why, hello," the man said. His voice was deep, almost croaky, like a movie actor's. His hair was short and greased back from his craggy face. He was handsome in a 1950s dad-on-television way.

Even his clothes seemed old-fashioned. When he stepped off his bike, the waistline of his slacks was way higher than normal, but somehow he still managed to look manly and stylish and not like a total idiot. I had trouble guessing his age— maybe thirty-something, though the man's fashion and manner seemed grandfatherish, but I didn't have to guess. I knew exactly who this dude was. But… it was impossible. 

The woman slid off the bike. "We've had the most lovely morning," she said breathlessly. She looked about twenty-one, also dressed in an old-fashioned style. Her ankle-length marigold skirt and white blouse were pinched together with a large leather belt, giving her a narrow waist.

When she removed her scarf, her short wavy black hair bounced into perfect shape. She had dark playful eyes and a brilliant smile. I had seen naiads that looked less pixieish than this lady.

My fork fell out of my hand and clattered against my plate with a noise that would have brought all eyes on me had the café been busy. "Oh, gods. How— how…?"

"You guys look familiar," Luke decided, squinting at the pair. "Are you that guy on Mad Men?"

"Luke!" I cried, kicking his shin underneath the table. 

"What?" he protested. "I don't watch a lot of TV. I literally only watch stuff that you’re in, Angel."

"That's Gregory Peck!" My eyes were wide, and my mouth kept falling open. Words were difficult to force out of my mouth. "And Audrey Hepburn! I've looked up to you for, like, ever. But you died in 1993. How—?"

"Oh, my dear!" The woman twirled like an air spirit and sat down at our table. "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else! My name is Rhea Silvia. I was the mother to Romulus and Remus, thousands of years ago. But you're so kind to think I look as young as the 1950s. And this is my husband…"

"Tiberinus," said Gregory Peck, thrusting out his hand to me in a manly way. "God of the River Tiber."

I shook his hand. The guy smelled of aftershave. Of course, if I were the Tiber River, I'd probably want to mask the smell with anything I could.

"Uh, hi," I said, finally gathering my wits. "Do you two always look like iconic American movie stars?"

"Do we?" Tiberinus frowned and studied his clothes. "I'm not sure, actually. The migration of Western civilization goes both ways, you know. Rome affected the world, but the world also affects Rome. There does seem to be a lot of American influence lately. I've rather lost track over the centuries."

"Okay," I said slowly. "But… you're here to help?"

"My naiads told me you two were here. Terrible gossips when it comes to Poseidon’s court, especially, it seems, the newly crowned Princess." Tiberinus studied me, then cast his dark eyes toward Luke. "You have the map, my boy? And your letter of introduction?"

"Uh…" Luke handed him the letter and the disk of bronze. "S- so…" he stammered, "you've helped other children of Athena and Hermes with this quest?"

"Oh, my boy!" The lady, Rhea Silvia, apparently, put her hand on Luke's shoulder. "Tiberinus is ever so helpful. He saved my children Romulus and Remus, you know, and brought them to the wolf goddess Lupa. Later, when that old king Numen tried to kill me, Tiberinus took pity on me and made me his wife. I've been ruling the river kingdom at his side ever since. He's just dreamy!"

"Thank you, my dear," Tiberinus said with a wry smile. "And, yes, Luke Castellan, I've helped many of your siblings… to at least begin their journey safely. A shame all of them died painfully later on. Well, your documents seem in order. We should get going. The Mark of Athena awaits! Where is the son of Athena?"

At that exact moment, my phone buzzed.

malcolm (athena cabin)

I'm at the river. Where are you guys?

me

a café nearby. walk a little ways down and you'll see us. we’re literally the only ones here

malcolm (athena cabin)

Okay. Sending Hedge back to the ship now. 

I gripped Luke's hand— probably a little too tight. "Malcolm's on his way. He's nearby."

"Luke! Allie!" a voice yelled. We all turned and saw the blond son of Athena running towards us. "Hedge distracted me. He tried getting into a fight with these play-gladiators who were fighting some cops outside the Colosseum… Crazy. Anyways, I was able to send an Iris Message to Camp a few minutes ago.” 

“How are they?” I asked, my heart aching for any information I could get on my home. 

“Happy to know you’re alive and well, Allie,” he replied. “Preparing for war, of course, but if I was you I’d be more worried about Silena, Clarisse, and Katie’s plans for lecturing you over your disappearance.” 

I winced. I tried to keep my thoughts of home to a minimum because of how upset it made me, but the mention of my closest girl friends made it even worse. I missed them so much that any sort of response got caught in my throat. 

Rhea Silvia laughed sweetly. "Alright, girly. You must return to your ship and gather your other friends. Confront the giants! The way will appear in your friend Piper's knife. Luke and Malcolm have a different path. They must walk alone."

"Indeed," Tiberinus said. "They must face the guardian of the shrine by themselves. It is the only way. And Astraea Jackson, you have less time than you realized to rescue your friend in the jar. You must hurry."

"But—"

"It's all right, Angel." Luke squeezed my hand. "We need to do this."

I started to protest. His expression stopped me. I knew him damn near better than I knew myself. He was terrified but doing his best to hide it— for my sake. If I tried to argue, I would only make things harder for him. Or worse, I might convince him to stay. Then he would have to live with the knowledge that he'd backed down from his biggest challenge… assuming that we survived at all, with Rome about to get leveled and Gaea about to rise and destroy the world. The Athena statue held the key to defeating the giants. I didn't know why or how, but Luke and Malcolm were the only ones who could find it.

"You're right," I said, forcing out the words despite how poisonous they felt on my lips. "Be safe."

Rhea Silvia giggled like it was a ridiculous comment. "Safe? Not at all! But necessary. Come, Luke, Malcolm, my dears. We will show you where your path starts. After that, you're on your own."

Luke stood from his seat and walked over to my side of the table to kiss me. “I love you, Angel,” he whispered against my lips, just loud enough for only me to hear.

I swallowed thickly, trying to memorize his face and the determined set of his shoulders. “I love you, too, babe,” I replied weakly, my voice coming out scratchy and soft. “Please, make it back.” 

He hesitated, like he was wondering what else to say. All he could muster was a nod. Then he shouldered his backpack and climbed on the back of the scooter.

I hated it. I would've preferred to fight any monster in the world. I would've preferred a rematch with Chrysaor. But I forced myself to stay in my chair, twisting my rings around my fingers until they pinched my skin.

Malcolm gave me a hug. "I'll bring him back alive, Allie. I promise."

"You better," I choked out. "Aphrodite would skin you before she got the chance to make our relationship even more tragic."

"Oh, yeah. Silena would help her, too."

"I miss her."

"I know. We'll see you soon, Allie. Bye."

"Bye," I whispered. 

Holding back tears was the hardest thing I felt I’d ever done as I watched Luke and Malcolm motor off through the streets of Rome with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn.

*    *    *

previous | next

1.3 They Told Me All of My Cages Were Mental, so I Got Wasted Like All My Potential

Allie

My heart skipped beats while Chrysaor walked back and forth, inspecting us like prized cattle. A dozen of his dolphin-man warriors stayed in a ring around us, spears leveled at my chest, while dozens more ransacked the ship, banging and crashing around belowdecks. One carried a box of ambrosia up the stairs. Another carried an armful of ballista bolts and a crate of Greek fire.

"Careful with that!" Luke warned. "It'll blow up both our ships."

"Ha!" Chrysaor said. "We know all about Greek fire, boy. Don't worry. We've been looting and pillaging ships on the Mare Nostrum for eons."

"Your accent sounds familiar," I said, trying to distract him. "Have we met?"

"I haven't had the pleasure." Chrysaor's golden gorgon mask snarled at me, though it was impossible to tell what his real expression might be underneath. "Oh, but I've heard all about you, Astraea Jackson. Oh, yes, the beautiful, perfect Princess of Poseidon who saved Olympus. And what would you call yourself, Luke Castellan?"

"The person who keeps her alive," Luke replied bluntly. "And, Angel, his accent sounds familiar because he sounds like his mother. You killed her in Jersey."

I frowned. "Uh, that accent is not New Jersey, Babe. Who's his—? Oooooh. Yikes."

It all fell into place. Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium— the lair of Medusa. She'd talked with that same accent— at least, she had… right up until I had cut off her head.

"Medusa is your mom?" I asked. "Bro, that sucks for you."

Judging from the sound in Chrysaor's throat, he was now snarling under the mask, too.

"You are as arrogant as the gods," Chrysaor growled. "It is no wonder you were named for one, Astraea Jackson. But, yes, Poseidon was my father. Medusa was my mother. After Medusa was changed into a monster by that so-called goddess of wisdom, Medusa's two children were trapped inside her, unable to be born. When Perseus cut off Medusa's head—"

"Two children sprang out," Luke remembered. "Pegasus and you."

I blinked. "So your brother is a winged horse? But you're also my half brother, which means all the flying horses in the world are my… Actually. You know what? Let's not talk about it."

I'd learned years ago it was better not to dwell too much on who was related to whom on the godly side of things. After Tyson the Cyclops adopted me as a sister, I decided that that was about as far as I wanted to extend the family and tend not to ask questions after that. Poseidon’s legitimization of me into his Atlantean Court had opened up an entirely new can of worms that I had refused to look into yet. 

"Hold on, if you're Medusa's kid," I said, "why haven't I ever heard of you?"

Chrysaor sighed in exasperation. "When your brother is Pegasus, you get used to being forgotten. Oh, look, a winged horse! Does anyone care about me? No!" He raised the tip of his blade to my eyes. "But don't underestimate me. My name means the Golden Sword for a reason."

"Imperial gold?" I guessed.

"Bah! Enchanted gold, yes. Later on, the Romans called it Imperial gold, but I was the first to ever wield such a blade. I should have been the most famous hero of all time! Since the legend-tellers decided to ignore me, I became a villain instead. I resolved to put my heritage to use. As the son of Medusa, I would inspire terror. As the son of Poseidon, I would rule the seas!"

"You became a pirate," Luke summed up.

“A chatty pirate,” I mumbled. 

Chrysaor spread his arms, which was fine with me since it got the sword point away from my face, even though logically I knew his sword would break before my skull did, thanks to my Curse of Achilles.

"The best pirate," Chrysaor corrected. 

"No, have you ever heard of that dude during the Revolutionary War? John Paul Jones. That man was iconic," I said, remembering the stories Danny had told me years ago. “I’m, like, not even joking, either. He—”

"Bah! Never mind him! I've sailed these waters for centuries, waylaying any demigods foolish enough to explore the Mare Nostrum. This is my territory now, Astraea Jackson, not yours. And all you have is mine."

One of the dolphin warriors dragged Coach Hedge up from below.

"Let me go, you tuna fish!" Hedge bellowed. He tried to kick the warrior, but his hoof clanged off his captor's armor. Judging from the hoof-shaped prints in the dolphin's breastplate and helmet, Coach had already made several other attempts.

"Ah, a satyr," Chrysaor mused. "A little old and stringy, but Cyclopes will pay well for a morsel like him. Chain him up."

"I'm nobody's goat meat!" Hedge protested.

"Gag him as well," Chrysaor decided.

"Why you gilded little—" Hedge's insult was cut short when the dolphin put a greasy wad of canvas in his mouth. Soon the coach was trussed like a rodeo calf and dumped with the other loot— crates of food, extra weapons, even the magical ice chest from the mess hall. It was lucky they hadn’t made it to my room yet. I hoped we’d be able to find a way out of this situation before they did. 

"You can't do this!" Luke shouted.

Chrysaor's laughter reverberated inside his gold face mask. I wondered if he was horribly disfigured under there, or if his gaze could petrify people the way his mother's could.

"I can do anything I want," Chrysaor said haughtily. "My warriors have been trained to perfection. They are vicious, cutthroat—"

"Dolphins," I noted.

Chrysaor shrugged. "Yes. So? They had some bad luck a few millennia ago, kidnapped the wrong person. Some of their crew got turned completely into dolphins. Others went mad. But these… These survived as hybrid creatures. When I found them under the sea and offered them a new life, they became my loyal crew. They fear nothing!"

One of the warriors chattered at him nervously.

"Yes, yes," Chrysaor growled. "They fear one thing, but it hardly matters. He's not here."

An idea began tickling at the base of my skull. Before I could pursue it, more dolphin warriors climbed the stairs, hauling up the rest of my friends. Jason and Malcolm were unconscious. Judging from the new bruises on their faces, they’d tried to fight. Hazel and Piper were bound hand and foot. Piper had a gag in her mouth, so apparently the dolphins had discovered she could charmspeak. Frank was the only one missing, though two of the dolphins had bee stings covering their faces.

Could Frank actually turn into a swarm of bees? I hoped so. If he was free aboard the ship somewhere, that could be an advantage, assuming I could figure out how to communicate with him.

"Excellent!" Chrysaor gloated. He directed his warriors to dump Jason and Malcolm by the crossbows. Then he examined the girls like they were Christmas presents, which made me grit my teeth.

"The boys are of no use to me," Chrysaor said. "But we have an understanding with the witch Circe. She will buy the women— either as slaves or trainees, depending on their skill. But not you, lovely Astraea."

I recoiled as his hand reached out to caress my cheek. "You aren't taking me anywhere."

I felt the cold metal of Riptide and Shaker's jewelry forms return to my neck and wrist. I only needed a moment's distraction to draw my swords. Maybe if I could take down Chrysaor quickly, his crew would panic.

I wished I knew something about Chrysaor's weaknesses. Usually, either Luke or I knew something about our opponents and could tell each other, but apparently he didn't have any legends, so we were both in the dark.

The golden warrior tutted. "Oh, sadly, Astraea, you will not be staying with me. I would love that. But you and your boyfriend Luke are spoken for. A certain goddess is paying a high bounty for your capture— alive, if possible, though she didn't say you had to be… unharmed."

At that moment, Piper caused the disturbance we needed. She wailed so loudly it could be heard through her gag. Then she fainted against the nearest guard, knocking him over. Hazel got the idea and crumpled to the deck, kicking her legs and thrashing like she was having a fit.

I drew Riptide and lashed out. The blade should have gone straight through Chrysaor's neck, but the golden warrior was unbelievably fast. He dodged and parried as the dolphin warriors backed up, guarding the other captives while giving their captain room to battle. They chattered and squeaked, egging him on, and I got the sinking suspicion the crew was used to this sort of entertainment. They didn't feel their leader was in any sort of danger, and that was more concerning than his speed. 

I hadn't crossed swords with an opponent like this since… Well, since I'd battled Ares in California, back when I was sixteen. And I hadn’t even been properly trained then. Chrysaor was that good. 

Many of my powers had gotten stronger over the years, but now, too late, I realized that swordplay wasn't one of them.

I was rusty— at least against an adversary like Chrysaor.

We battled back and forth, thrusting and parrying. Without meaning to, I heard the voice of Luke throwing out suggestions, even with the real-life Luke saying nothing. 

But it didn't help.

The golden gorgon mask was too unnerving. The warm fog, the slick deck boards, the chattering of the warriors. Absolutely none of it helped. He had been right— the ocean may have been my turf, but not when he was around. And in the corner of my eye, I could see one of the dolphinmen holding a knife at Luke's throat in case he tried anything tricky.

I held out for a good few minutes before I feinted a thrust at Chrysaor's gut. It was a perfect move— it probably would have fooled any other opponent— but unfortunately, Chrysaor anticipated it. He knocked my sword out of my hand again, and once more Riptide flew into the sea. Shaker was still on my wrist, but I didn't see how it would help. 

“Allie!” Luke cried. 

Chrysaor laughed easily. He wasn't even winded. He pressed the tip of his golden sword right underneath my chin, propping my head up.

"A valiant effort, Astraea," said the pirate. "Not good enough, I’m afraid. But don’t you worry, now you'll be chained and transported to Gaea's minions. They are quite eager to spill your blood and wake the goddess."

*    *    * 

There was nothing quite like total and utter failure to generate great ideas.

As I stood there, half-disarmed and outmatched, the plan formed in my head. I was so used to Luke helping provide Greek legend information that I was kind of stunned to actually remember something useful, but I had to act fast. I couldn't let anything happen to my friends. I wasn't going to lose Luke— not again.

Chrysaor couldn't be beaten. At least not in single combat. Maybe not even with Luke at my side. But without his crew… Maybe then he could be overwhelmed if enough demigods attacked him at once.

How to deal with Chrysaor's crew? I put the pieces together: the pirates had been turned into dolphin-men millennia ago when they had kidnapped the wrong person. I knew that story. Hell, the wrong person in question had threatened to turn me into a dolphin the day after Poseidon claimed me as his child. And when Chrysaor said the crew wasn't afraid of anything, one of the dolphins had nervously corrected him. 

Yes, Chrysaor said. But he's not here.

I glanced toward the stern and spotted Frank, in human form, peeking out from behind a ballista, waiting. I resisted the urge to smile. The big guy claimed to be clumsy and useless, but he always seemed to be in exactly the right place right whenever I needed him.

Hazel and Piper… Frank… The ice chest.

It was a crazy idea. But, as usual, that was all I had. And that would have to be enough. 

"Fine, fine," I shouted, so loudly that I got everyone's attention. I turned on a little of my actress charm for effect. "Take us away. Of course, that's if our captain will let you."

Chrysaor turned his golden mask. "What captain? My men searched the ship. There is no one else."

I raised my hands dramatically. "The god appears only when he wishes. But he is our leader. He runs our camp for demigods. Doesn't he, Luke?"

Luke was quick. "Yes!" He nodded enthusiastically. "Mr. D! The, uh, great Dionysus!"

Well, it was good that Luke was a terrific liar. A ripple of uneasiness passed through the dolphin-men. One dropped his sword.

"Stand fast!" Chrysaor bellowed. "There is no god on this ship. They are trying to scare you."

"Oh, you should be scared!" I looked at the pirate crew with faux sympathy. "Dionysus will be severely cranky with you for having delayed our voyage. He will punish all of us. Didn't you notice the girls falling into the wine god's madness?"

Hazel and Piper had stopped the shaking fits. They were sitting on the deck, staring at me, but when I glared at them pointedly, they started hamming it up again, trembling and flopping around like fish. The dolphin-men fell over themselves trying to get away from their captives.

"Fakes!" Chrysaor roared. "Shut up, Astraea Jackson. Your camp director is not here. He was recalled to Olympus. This is common knowledge."

"So you agree!" I said. You think I'm pretty. "Dionysus is our director."

"He was," Chrysaor corrected. "Everyone knows that."

I gestured at the golden warrior like he'd just betrayed himself. "You see? We are doomed. If you don't believe me, let's check the ice chest!"

I grabbed Chrysaor’s golden sword with my hand and shoved it away from my face, then stormed over to the magical cooler. No one tried to stop me. I knocked open the lid and rummaged through the ice. There had to be one. Please. I was rewarded with a silver-and-red can of soda. I brandished it at the dolphin warriors as if spraying them with bug repellent.

"Behold!" I shouted. "The god's chosen beverage. Tremble before the horror of Diet Coke!"

The dolphin-men began to panic. They were on the edge of retreat. I could feel it.

"The god will take your ship," I warned, lowering my voice. "He will finish your transformation into dolphins, or make you insane, or transform you into insane dolphins! Your only hope is to swim away now, quickly!"

"Ridiculous!" Chrysaor's voice turned shrill. He didn't seem sure where to level his sword— at me or his own crew.

"Save yourselves! It is too late for us!" Now, for the grand finale… I pointed to the spot where Frank was hiding. "Oh, no! Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!"

Nothing happened.

"I said," I repeated, "Frank is turning into a crazy dolphin!" 

Frank stumbled out of nowhere, making a big show of grabbing his throat. "Oh, no," he said, like he was reading from a teleprompter and I almost cringed at the bad acting. "I am turning into a crazy dolphin."

He began to change, his nose elongating into a snout, his skin becoming sleek and gray. He fell to the deck as a dolphin, his tail thumping against the boards.

The pirate crew disbanded in terror, chattering and clicking as they dropped their weapons, forgot the captives, ignored Chrysaor's orders, and jumped overboard. In the confusion, Luke moved quickly to cut the bonds on Hazel, Piper, and Coach Hedge.

Within seconds, Chrysaor was alone and surrounded. We had no weapons except for Shaker and Hedge's hooves, but the murderous looks on our faces evidently convinced the golden warrior he was doomed.

He backed to the edge of the rail.

"This isn't over, Astraea Jackson," Chrysaor growled. "I will have my revenge—"

His words were cut short by Frank, who had changed form again. An eight-hundred-pound grizzly bear can definitely break up a conversation. He sideswiped Chrysaor and raked the golden mask off his helmet. Chrysaor screamed, instantly covering his face with his arms and tumbling into the water.

We ran to the rail. Chrysaor had disappeared. I thought about chasing him, but I didn't know these waters, and I didn't want to confront that guy alone again.

"That was brilliant!" Luke kissed me, which made me feel a little better.

"It was… desperate, at best," I corrected. "And insanely lucky. We need to get rid of this pirate trireme."

"Burn it?" Luke asked.

I looked at the Diet Coke in my hand. "No. I've got another idea."

It took us longer than I wanted. As we worked, I kept glancing at the sea, waiting for Chrysaor and his pirate dolphins to return. But they didn't. Nothing else bothered us. 

Leo got back on his feet, thanks to a little nectar. Piper tended to Jason and Malcolm's wounds, but they weren't as badly hurt as they looked. Just a little embarrassed at having been taken down so quickly, which I could relate to. 

We returned all of our own supplies to the proper places and tidied up from the invasion while Coach Hedge had a field day on the enemy ship, breaking everything he could find with his baseball bat. To my surprise, the dolphin warriors hadn’t even gone into my room. Nothing had been touched. 

When Coach was done, I loaded the enemy's weapons back on the pirate ship. Their storeroom was full of treasure, but I insisted that we touch none of it.

"I can sense about six million dollars' worth of gold aboard," Hazel said, her voice awed. "Plus diamonds, rubies—"

"Six m- million?" Frank stammered. "Canadian dollars or American?"

"Leave it," I insisted. "It's part of the tribute."

"Tribute?" Hazel asked.

"Oh." Piper nodded. "Kansas."

Jason grinned. "Crazy. But I like it."

Finally, I went aboard the pirate ship and opened the flood valves. I asked Leo to drill a few extra holes in the bottom of the hull with his power tools, and he was happy to oblige.

The crew of the Argo II assembled at the rail and cut the grappling lines. Piper brought out her new horn of plenty and, on my direction, willed it to spew Diet Coke, which came out with the strength of a fire hose, dousing the enemy deck. I thought it would take hours, but the ship sank remarkably fast, filling with Diet Coke and seawater.

"Dionysus," I called, holding up Chrysaor's golden mask. "Or Bacchus— whatever, I don’t really care. Whichever of you wants it. You made this victory possible, even if you weren't here. Your enemies trembled at your name… or your Diet Coke, or something. Whatever! So, yeah, thank you." The words were hard to get out, but I managed not to gag. "We give this ship to you as tribute. We hope you like it."

"Six million in gold," Leo muttered. "He'd better like it."

"Shh," Hazel scolded. "Precious metal isn't all that great. Believe me."

"Six million is lowkey nothing," I replied, only half-joking. "I donate like triple that to Children’s charities and domestic violence aid groups every year." 

"What?"

"Actress and model since I was two, Leo. Highest paid in both occupations since I was, like, six, I think. And then I started singing and that’s only added on. You should see the royalty checks that I get quarterly."

"Oh."

I threw the golden mask aboard the vessel, which was now sinking even faster, brown fizzy liquid spewing out the trireme's oar slots and bubbling from the cargo hold, turning the sea frothy brown.

I summoned a wave, and the enemy ship was swamped. Leo steered the Argo II away as the pirate vessel disappeared underwater.

"Isn't that polluting?" Piper asked.

"I wouldn't worry," Jason told her. "If Bacchus likes it, the ship should vanish."

I didn't know if that would happen, but I felt like I'd done all I could. I had absolutely no faith that Dionysus would hear us or care, much less help us in our battle against the twin giants, but I had to try.

As the Argo II headed east into the fog, I decided at least one good thing had come out of his sword fight with Chrysaor. I was feeling humble— even humble enough to pay tribute to the asshole wine god.

*** 

After our bout with the pirates, we decided to fly the rest of the way to Rome. Jason insisted he was well enough to take sentry duty, along with Coach Hedge, who was still so charged with adrenaline that every time the ship hit turbulence, he swung his bat and yelled, "Die!"

We had a couple of hours before daybreak, so Jason suggested I try to get a few more hours of sleep.

"It's fine, Moviestar," Jason said. "Give somebody else a chance to save the ship, huh?"

I agreed, though once in my cabin, I had a lot of trouble falling asleep, likely due to Luke not being there once again. I'd lay down and stare at the ceiling and then I'd get antsy and get up to pace. And rinse and repeat. For a while, I found that strumming on my guitar would help, but when it got too late, I had to stop out of worry I was keeping the others awake.

I stared at the bronze lantern swaying from the ceiling as I paced and thought about how easily Chrysaor had beaten me at swordplay, my supposed strong suit. The golden warrior could've killed me without breaking a sweat. He'd only kept me alive because someone else wanted to pay for the privilege of killing me later.

I felt like an arrow had slipped through a chink in my armor— like someone had found my weak spot. The older I got, the longer I survived as a half-blood, the more my friends looked up to me. They depended on me and relied on my powers. Even the Romans had raised me on a shield and made me praetor, and I'd only known them for a couple of days.

But I didn't feel powerful. The more heroic stuff I did, the more I realized how limited I was. I felt like a fraud. 

I'm not as great as you think, I wanted to warn my friends. My failures, like tonight, seemed to prove it. Maybe that's why I had started to fear suffocation. It wasn't so much drowning in the earth or the sea, but the feeling that I was sinking into too many expectations, literally getting in over my head.

I’d been able to handle high expectations my entire life. When everyone expects your next show or album to perform even better than the one before, you learn to live with it. Expectation becomes something that just comes with the job. But this was an entirely different beast. I could make a bad album, or have a movie that the critics hated, and the most it would be is a stain on my career. Here, this Greek and Roman world was unforgiving. One screw up, and it could kill us all.  

I didn't realize it, but I'd started crying. I hated myself for it, but I couldn't bring myself to stop.

Athena had once told me my fatal flaw: I was supposedly too loyal to my friends. I couldn't see the big picture. I would save a friend even if it meant destroying the world.

At the time, I had shrugged this off. How could loyalty be a bad thing? Besides, things worked out okay against the Titans. I'd saved my friends and beaten Kronos. I’d managed to survive. 

Now, though, I started to wonder. I would gladly throw myself at any monster, god, or giant to keep my friends from being hurt. But what if I wasn't up to the task? What if someone else had to do it? That was very hard for me to admit. I even had trouble with simple things like letting Jason take a turn at watch. I didn't want to rely on someone else to protect me, someone who could get hurt on my account.

My mom had done that for me. She'd stayed in a bad relationship with a disgusting, awful, abusive, dickhead of a mortal guy because she thought it would save me from monsters. Grover, my best friend, had protected me for almost a year before I even realized I was a demigod, and Grover had almost gotten killed by the Minotaur. Luke protected me any chance he got. During the Second Titan War, he’d taken a poisoned knife for me despite me being invulnerable. The knife would have hit my vulnerable spot and killed me, of course, but Luke had almost died himself in the process. 

I wasn't a kid, or even a teenager anymore— I was an adult, in a little over two months I'd legally be allowed to drink alcohol in America. I didn't want anybody I loved taking a risk for me. I had to be strong enough to be the protector myself. But now I was supposed to let Luke go off with Malcolm to follow the Mark of Athena, knowing he might die. If it came to a choice— save Luke or let the quest succeed— could I really choose the quest?

After hyperventilating and sobbing for an hour and a half, exhaustion finally overtook me. I fell asleep, and in my nightmare, the rumble of thunder became the laughter of the earth goddess Gaea.

I dreamed I was standing on the front porch of the Big House at Camp Half-Blood. The sleeping face of Gaea appeared on the side of Half-Blood Hill— her massive features formed from the shadows on the grassy slopes. Her lips didn't move, but her voice echoed across the valley.

So this is your home, Gaea murmured. Take a last look, Astraea Jackson. You should have returned here. At least then you could have died along side your comrades when the Romans invaded. Now your blood will be spilled far from home, on the ancient stones, and I will rise.

The ground shook. At the top of Half-Blood Hill, Thalia's pine tree burst into flames. Disruption rolled across the valley— grass turning to sand, forest crumbling to dust. The river and the canoe lake dried up. The cabins and the Big House burned to ashes. When the tremor stopped, Camp Half-Blood looked like a wasteland after an atomic blast. The only thing left was the porch where I stood. I could feel the tears falling from my eyes again.

Next to me, the dust swirled and solidified into the figure of a woman. Her eyes were closed, as if she were sleepwalking. Her robes were forest green, dappled with gold and white like sunlight shifting through branches. Her hair was as black as tilled soil. Her face was beautiful, but even with a dreamy smile on her lips she seemed cold and distant. I got the feeling she could watch demigods die or cities burn, and that smile wouldn't waver.

"When I reclaim the earth," Gaea said, and even her voice sounded more physical now— less of that hollow whisper, "I will leave this spot barren forever, to remind me of your kind and how utterly powerless they were to stop me. It doesn't matter when you fall, my sweet, pretty little pawn— to Phorcys or Chrysaor or my dear twins. You will fall, and I will be there to devour you. Your only choice now… will you fall alone? Come to me willingly; bring the boy. Perhaps I will spare this place you love. Otherwise…"

Gaea opened her eyes. They swirled in green and black, as deep as the crust of the earth. Gaea saw everything. Her patience was infinite. She was slow to wake, but once she arose, her power was unstoppable.

My skin tingled. My hands went numb. I looked down and realized I was crumbling to dust, like all the monsters I'd ever defeated.

"Enjoy Tartarus, my pretty little flower," Gaea purred.

A metallic CLANG-CLANG-CLANG jolted me out of my dream. My eyes shot open. I realized I'd just heard the landing gear being lowered. I was still crying.

There was a knock on my door, and Jason poked his head in. The bruises on his face had faded. His blue eyes glittered with excitement. He apparently hadn't seen my face yet. 

"Hey, Moviestar," he said excitedly. "We're descending over Rome. You really should see this."

*    *    *

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1.2 Can You Give Me a Sec? ... Alan Luke, We Are So Fucked

Allie

Considering the rough series of days I’d been through (Honestly, given my Hera-induced, six-month coma hadn’t even been over for a month yet, I was surprised I was still hanging onto my last shred of sanity), I was immensely glad Piper hadn't insisted I go with her and Jason. 

It wouldn’t have been good if I jeopardized our whole mission because I couldn’t bring myself to be civil to the man who had essentially erased Zoë from his past and got her removed from her sisters. Plus, I was never good at holding my tongue around misogynistic men. Knowing me, I’d have told him to go fuck himself and gotten us tossed back to the States. 

After being gone for a little over half an hour, Piper IM'd us outlining a plan she’d thought up to get us through. Though it sounded absolutely batshit at first, Piper managed to convince us that it was a good idea. 

A few seconds after the connection split, Piper and Jason came into view and everyone got ready. 

They talked for a few seconds and then Piper lifted a horn she got from the river god they’d met, Achelous, in the air. Hercules seemed to be getting angrier by the second. It brought me a helluva lot of satisfaction despite it meaning Jason and Piper were in danger because of it. 

The horn blasted forth a flood of food. A torrent of fresh fruit, baked goods, and smoked hams completely buried Hercules. I didn't understand how all that stuff could fit through the entrance of the horn, but I thought the hams were especially appropriate.

When it had spewed out enough goodies to fill a house, the horn shut itself off. We heard Hercules shrieking and struggling somewhere underneath, even from here. Apparently even the strongest god in the world could be caught off guard when buried under fresh produce.

In an instant, they shot away from the island, but it wasn't a second too soon.

As they got closer to the ship, Hercules's head broke above the mound of goodies. Half a coconut was stuck on his head like a war helmet. "Kill!" he bellowed, like he'd had a lot of practice saying it.

Jason touched down on the deck of the Argo II. Leo had done his part. The ship's oars were already in aerial mode. The anchor was up. Jason summoned a gale so strong, it pushed us into the sky, while I sent a fifteen-foot-tall wave against the shore, knocking Hercules down a second time, in a cascade of seawater and pineapples.

By the time the god regained his feet and started lobbing coconuts at us from far below, the Argo II was already sailing through the clouds above the Mediterranean.

*    *    *

That night gave me a lot of time to think. And by that, I mean it gave me a lot of time to criticize myself for being useless. 

I couldn't get rid of the mega-shrimp without Leo, Hazel, and Frank getting kidnapped for the night, and even then I had passed out until seconds before they showed up. I couldn't help Luke. All I did in Charleston was drink tea and eat cookies with Aphrodite. And even back in Atlanta. That stupid, irrational fear of drowning was killing me and almost got me and Frank locked in an aquarium for the rest of our lives. And then I couldn't even help those sea creatures, who were trapped and mindless to their predicament.

And I could admit that I was still a little butthurt about Chiron's brothers not wanting to meet me. 

And then, Luke started to get distant. 

He spent most of his time in Malcolm’s cabin, studying the bronze map they’d retrieved from Fort Sumter, or looking up information on Daedalus's laptop.

Whenever I stopped by to see him, he was so lost in thought that the conversation went something like this:

Me: "Hey, Babe, how's it going?"

Luke: "Uh, no thanks."

Me: "Okay… Have you eaten anything today?"

Luke: "I think Leo is on duty. You should ask him, Angel."

Me: "So, I wanna dye my hair purple, I think."

Luke: "No, I'll be there in a minute."

Me: “And, you know, cut myself some bangs. With kitchen scissors. And then chop the rest off.” 

Luke: “Sounds good, Angel.” 

I wondered what I had to do to get his attention, but I couldn't come up with anything that Coach Hedge and Hazel would approve of, or that I could do with Malcolm in the room, too. We had gotten in our little spats over the years, and this wasn’t the first time I’d ever been given the cold shoulder by Luke, but I could say that this one hurt the most. I was worried about him after his encounter with whatever it was at Fort Sumter, and I didn't know how to help him, especially when he shut me out.

After leaving the Pillars of Hercules— unscathed except for a few coconuts lodged in the hull's bronze plating— the ship traveled by air for a few hundred miles.

I hoped the ancient lands wouldn't be as bad as we'd heard or any different than they had felt the times I'd visited before knowing of my lineage. But it was almost like a commercial: You'll notice the difference immediately!

Several times an hour, something attacked the ship. A flock of flesh-eating Stymphalian birds swooped out of the night sky, and Festus torched them. Storm spirits swirled around the mast, and Jason blasted them with lightning. When trying to get Luke to talk to me made me too sad, I almost immediately had to cut the head off of a rogue winged serpent that attempted to commandeer our ship. While Coach Hedge was having dinner on the foredeck, a wild pegasus appeared from nowhere, stampeded over the coach's enchiladas, and flew off again, leaving cheesy hoof prints all across the deck. 

"What was that for?" the coach demanded.

The sight of the pegasus made me wish Blackjack was here, increasing the already heavy weight on my heart. I hadn't seen my friend in days. Tempest and Arion also hadn't shown themselves. Maybe they didn't want to venture into the Mediterranean. If so, I couldn't blame them.

Finally around midnight, after the ninth or tenth attack, Jason turned to me. "How about you get some sleep, Allie?” I could tell he’d been trying to be nicer to me since our… disagreement about Nico. “I'll keep blasting stuff out of the sky as long as I can. Then we can go by sea for a while, and you can take point."

I wasn't sure that I'd be able to sleep with the boat rocking through the clouds as it was shaken by angry wind spirits— or for the same reason I was never able to sleep on airplanes: Zeus— but Jason's idea made sense. I went below decks and crashed on my bed, trying to ignore the fact that Luke wasn’t there with me to hold me in my sleep. I had considered staying up to see if he’d make his way over— maybe I could write some song lyrics to pass the time— but I doubted he’d pull himself away and was feeling unusually uninspired. I took a fleeting look at my songwriting notebook and rolled over. 

My nightmares, of course, were anything but restful.

I dreamed I was in a dark cavern. I could only see a few feet in front of me, but the space must have been vast. Water dripped from somewhere nearby, and the sound echoed off distant walls. The way the air moved made me suspect the cave's ceiling was far, far above.

I heard heavy footsteps, and the twin giants Ephialtes and Otis shuffled out of the gloom. Again, I could distinguish them only by their hair— Ephialtes had the green locks braided with silver and gold coins; Otis had the purple ponytail braided with… Were those firecrackers? I couldn’t hold back a cringe.

Otherwise, they were dressed identically, and their outfits definitely belonged in a nightmare. For being in Italy, one of the fashion capitals of the world, they sure didn’t act like it. They wore matching white slacks and gold buccaneer shirts with V-necks that showed way too much chest hair. A dozen sheathed daggers lined their rhinestone belts. Their shoes were open-toed sandals, proving that— yes, indeed— they had snakes for feet. The straps wrapped around the serpents' necks.

Their heads curled up where the toes should be. The snakes flicked their tongues excitedly and turned their gold eyes in every direction, like dogs looking out the window of a car. Maybe it had been a long time since they'd had shoes with a view.

The giants stood in front of me, but they paid me no mind. Instead, they gazed up into the darkness.

"We're here," Ephialtes announced. Despite his booming voice, his words dissipated in the cavern, echoing until they sounded small and insignificant.

Far above, something answered, "Yes. I can see that. Those outfits are hard to miss."

For as much as I agreed with it, the voice made my stomach drop about six inches. It sounded vaguely female, but not at all human. Each word was a garbled hiss in multiple tones, as if a swarm of African killer bees had learned to speak English in unison.

It wasn't Gaea. She’d spoken to me enough times for me to be sure of that. But whatever it was, the twin giants became nervous. They shifted on their snakes and bobbed their heads respectfully.

"Of course, Your Ladyship," Ephialtes said. "We bring news of—"

"Why are you dressed like that?" asked the thing in the dark. She didn't seem to be coming any closer, which was fine with me.

Ephialtes shot his brother an irritated look. "My brother was supposed to wear something different. Unfortunately—"

"You said I was the knife thrower today," Otis protested.

"I said I was the knife thrower! You were supposed to be the magician! Ah, forgive me, Your Ladyship. You don't want to hear us arguing. We came as you requested, to bring you news. The ship is approaching."

Her Ladyship, whatever she was, made a series of violent hisses like a tire being slashed repeatedly.

With a shudder, I realized she was laughing.

"How long?" she asked.

"They should land in Rome shortly after daybreak, I think," Ephialtes answered. "Of course, they'll have to get past the golden boy."

He sneered, as if the golden boy was not his favorite person.

"I hope they arrive safely," Her Ladyship said. "It would spoil our fun to have them captured too soon. Are your preparations made?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship." Otis stepped forward, and the cavern trembled. A crack appeared under Otis's left snake.

"Careful, you dolt!" Her Ladyship snarled. "Do you want to return to Tartarus the hard way?"

Otis scrambled back, his face slack with terror. I realized that the floor, which looked like solid stone, was more like the glacier I'd walked on in Alaska— in some places solid, in other places… not at all. I was glad I weighed nothing in this dream, but even so I tried to limit shifting my feet.

"There is little left holding this place together," Her Ladyship cautioned. "Except, of course, my own skill. Centuries of Athena's rage can only be contained so well, and the great Earth Mother churns below us in her sleep. Between those two forces, well… My nest has quite eroded. We must hope the sons of Athena and Hermes prove to be worthy victims. They may be my last playthings."

Ephialtes gulped. He kept his eyes on the crack in the floor. "Soon it will not matter, Your Ladyship. Gaea will rise, and we all will be rewarded. You will no longer have to guard this place, or keep your works hidden."

"Perhaps," said the voice in the dark. "But I will miss the sweetness of my revenge. We have worked well together over the centuries, have we not?"

The twins bowed. The coins glittered in Ephialtes's hair, and I realized with nauseating certainty that some of them were silver drachma, exactly like the one Malcolm had gotten from Athena.

Luke had told me that in each generation, a few children of Athena and Hermes were sent on the quest to recover the missing Parthenon statue. None had ever succeeded.

We have worked well together over the centuries… 

The giant Ephialtes had centuries' worth of coins in his braids— hundreds of trophies. I pictured Luke and Malcolm standing in this dark place with only each other. I imagined the giant taking that coin they carried and adding it to his collection. It reminded me of the Minotaur and our last meeting on the Williamsburg Bridge. The trophies of Camp Half-Blood beaded necklaces on his axe made me sick. I wanted to draw my sword and give the giant a haircut starting at the neck, but I was powerless to act in this dream. I could only watch.

I was almost glad for it. The last time it happened, I held the sky for a week. A mirror image of me held it up and every injury I sustained was forced upon the image. Atlas, the titan who resided on Mount Tam holding up the sky, was able to hurt me using the image, but it had disappeared soon after the fact. If I could move and then killed the giants, but then woke up, what would happen to my dream self? If whatever it was up there had anything to say about it, she'd probably start trying to figure out where my vulnerable spot was. 

"Uh, Your Ladyship," Ephialtes said nervously. "I would remind you that Gaea wishes the son of Hermes to be taken alive. You can torment them. Drive them insane. Whatever you wish, of course. But his blood must be spilt on the ancient stones."

Her Ladyship hissed. "Others could be used for that purpose."

"Y- yes," Ephialtes said. "But this Hermes child is preferred, the Earth Mother says. And the girl— the daughter of Poseidon. You can see why those two would be most suited for the task."

I wasn't sure what that meant, but I wanted to crack the floor and send these stupid gold-shirted twins down to oblivion. I'd never let Gaea spill my blood for any task, especially if the only way to do so was killing me. I couldn't be hurt in any place but the specific one, and to make me bleed, I'd have to be killed. That being said, killing me had turned out to be a tall task, so good luck to them. And there was no way I'd let anyone hurt Luke.

"We will see," Her Ladyship grumbled. "Leave me now. Tend to your own preparations. You will have your spectacle. And I… I will work in darkness."

The dream dissolved, and I woke with a start, gasping for air.

Jason was standing at my open doorway.

"We've set down in the water," he said, looking utterly exhausted. "Your turn, Moviestar."

*** 

I didn't want to, but I woke Luke. I figured even Coach Hedge wouldn't mind us talking after curfew if it meant giving him information that might save his life. Not to mention, waking him up might be the only time I got to have his attention. 

We stood on deck, alone except for Leo, who was still manning the helm. The guy must have been shattered, but he refused to go to sleep.

"I don't want any more Shrimpzilla surprises," he insisted.

We'd all tried to convince Leo that the scolopendra attack hadn't been entirely his fault, but he wouldn't listen. I knew how he felt. Not forgiving myself for mistakes was one of my most perfected talents.

It was about four in the morning. The weather was miserable. The fog was so thick, I couldn't even see Festus at the end of the prow, and a warm drizzle hung in the air like a bead curtain. As we sailed into twenty-foot swells, the sea heaving underneath us, I could hear poor Hazel down in her cabin… also heaving.

Despite all that, I was grateful to be back on the water. I preferred it to flying through storm clouds and being attacked by man-eating birds and enchilada-trampling pegasi. I could feel the power of the ocean coursing through my veins, reminding me who I was. 

I stood with Luke at the forward rail while I told him about my dream.

I wasn't sure how he'd take the news. His reaction was even more troubling than I anticipated: he didn't seem surprised.

He peered into the fog, his expression stony. "Allie, you have to promise me something. Don't tell the others about this dream."

"Don't what? Luke—"

"What you saw was about the Mark of Athena," he said. "It won't help the others to know. It'll only make them worry, and it'll make it harder for me to go off with Malcolm."

"Luke, you can't be serious. That thing in the dark, the big chamber with the crumbling floor—"

"I know." His face looked unnaturally pale, and I suspected it wasn't just the fog. "But I have to do this with Malcolm alone. Please, Angel, just…"

I swallowed back my anger. I wasn't sure if he was mad at Luke, or my dream, or the entire Greek/Roman world that had endured and shaped human history for five thousand years with one goal in mind: to make Allie Jackson's life suck as much as possible. Perhaps I was right in my suspicions— my luck had run out when I turned sixteen. 

"You know what's in that cavern," I guessed. "Does it have to do with what you saw in Charleston?"

"Kinda," he said in a small voice. "More so what Malcolm saw.” 

"Then how can you even…?" I made myself stop.

Once Luke had made up his mind, arguing with him wouldn't do any good. I thought again about the night three and a half years ago, when we'd saved Nico and Bianca di Angelo in Maine.

Luke and his late little sister, Brylie, had been captured by Atlas. For a while, I wasn't sure if they were alive or dead. I'd traveled across the country to save them from the Titan. It had been the hardest few days of my life— not just the monsters and the fighting, but the worry. Brylie had died while there and Luke almost had. 

How could I intentionally let him go now, knowing he was heading into something even more dangerous?

Then it dawned on me: the way I had felt back then, for a few days, was probably how he had felt for the six months I had been missing with amnesia.

That made me feel guilty, and a little bit selfish, to be standing there arguing with him. He had to go on this quest. The fate of the world might depend on it. But part of me wanted to say: Forget the world. I don’t know how to live without you.

I turned away and stared into the fog, trying not to cry. I couldn't see anything around us, but I had perfect bearings at sea. I knew our exact latitude and longitude. I knew the depth of the ocean and which way the currents were flowing. I knew the ship's speed, and could sense no rocks, sandbars, or other natural dangers in our path. Still, being blind was unsettling. 

We hadn't been attacked since we had touched the water, but the sea seemed different. I had been in the Atlantic, the Pacific, even the Gulf of Alaska, but this sea felt more ancient and powerful, something I hadn't felt when I was there before knowing I was a demigod. I could sense its layers swirling below me. Every Greek or Roman hero had sailed these waters— from Hercules to Aeneas. Monsters still dwelt in the depths, so deeply wrapped in the Mist that they slept most of the time. But I could feel them stirring, responding to the Celestial bronze hull of a Greek trireme and the presence of demigod blood.

They are back, the monsters seemed to say. Finally, fresh blood.

"We're not far from the Italian coast," I said quietly, mostly to break the silence and change the subject. I’d vied for Luke’s attention so hard, I didn’t want to ruin it by only arguing. "Maybe a hundred nautical miles to the mouth of the Tiber."

"Good," Luke said, and he sounded relieved that I hadn’t pressed our spat. "By daybreak, we should—"

"Stop." My skin felt washed with ice. "We have to stop."

"Why?" Luke asked.

"Leo, stop!" I yelled.

Luke grabbed my wrist. “Angel, what’s—?” 

Too late. The other boat appeared out of the fog and rammed us head-on. In that split second, I registered random details: another trireme; black sails painted with a gorgon's head; hulking warriors, not quite human, crowded at the front of the boat in Greek armor, swords and spears ready; and a bronze ram at water level, slamming against the hull of the Argo II.

Luke and I were almost thrown overboard. I practically had to throw the both of us to the ground to counteract our momentum. I stumbled into Luke and he wrapped his arm around my head before it could smack against the railing. 

Festus blew fire, sending a dozen very surprised warriors screaming and diving into the sea, but more swarmed aboard the Argo II. Grappling lines wrapped around the rails and the mast, digging iron claws into the hull's planks.

By the time I had recovered, the enemy was everywhere. I couldn't see well through the fog and the dark, but the invaders seemed to be human-like dolphins (or dolphin-like humans? It was hard to tell). 

Some had gray snouts. Others held their swords in stunted flippers. Some waddled on legs partially fused together, while others had flippers for feet, which reminded me of clown shoes.

Leo sounded the alarm bell. He made a dash for the nearest ballista but went down under a pile of chattering dolphin warriors.

Luke and I stood back-to-back, as we'd done many times before, our weapons drawn before we could even process the movement.

I tried to summon the waves, hoping I could push the ships apart or even capsize the enemy vessel, but nothing happened. It almost felt like something was pushing against my will, wresting the sea from my control.

I raised Riptide and Shaker, ready to fight, but we were hopelessly outnumbered. Several dozen warriors lowered their spears and made a ring around us, wisely keeping out of striking distance of our swords. The dolphin-men opened their snouts and made whistling, popping noises. I had never considered just how vicious dolphin teeth looked.

I tried to think. Maybe I could break out of the circle and destroy a few invaders, but not without the others skewering Luke and probably getting a lucky stab at my back.

At least the warriors didn't seem interested in killing us immediately. They kept me and Luke contained while more of their comrades flooded belowdecks and secured the hull. I could hear them breaking down the cabin doors, scuffling with my friends. Even if the other demigods hadn't been fast asleep, they wouldn't have stood a chance against so many.

Leo was dragged across the deck, half-conscious and groaning, and dumped on a pile of ropes.

Below, the sounds of fighting tapered off. Either the others had been subdued or… I refused to think about it.

On one side of the ring of spears, the dolphin warriors parted to let someone through. He appeared to be fully human, but from the way the dolphins fell back before him, he was clearly the leader. He was dressed in Greek combat armor— sandals, kilt, and greaves, a breastplate decorated with elaborate sea monster designs— and everything he wore was gold. Even his sword, a Greek blade like Riptide, was gold instead of bronze.

The golden boy, I thought, remembering my dream and trying not to cuss out loud. They'll have to get past the golden boy.

What really made me nervous was the guy's helmet. His visor was a full face mask fashioned like a gorgon's head— curved tusks, horrible features pinched into a snarl, and golden snake hair curling around the face. I had met gorgons before. The likeness was good— a little too good for my taste.

Luke turned so he was shoulder to shoulder with me. I knew this move well— he wanted to be able to move in front of me if the so-called Golden Boy struck. 

"Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want?"

The golden warrior chuckled. With a flick of his blade, a smooth movement that was faster than I could follow, he smacked Riptide and Shaker out of my hands and sent them flying into the sea. In his swing, he knocked Luke’s blade out of his hand as well, and only by the skin of his teeth did it miss following my own swords. 

He might as well have thrown my lungs into the sea, because suddenly I couldn't breathe. I’d never been disarmed so easily. I was sure Luke hadn’t, either. We’d always been hailed as the best swordfighters in generations at Camp. 

"Hello, sister." The golden warrior's voice was rich and velvety, with an exotic accent— Middle Eastern, maybe— that seemed vaguely familiar. "Always happy to rob a fellow child of Poseidon, though this is the first female I've had the pleasure of meeting. I am Chrysaor, the Golden Sword. As for what I want…" 

He kept the metal mask trained on me, even as he answered Luke’s question. Looking at the mask made me feel slow and foggy, even though I knew it was only a copy. 

"Well, that's quite simple. I want you and everything you have."

*    *    *

previous | next

1.1 Have You Ever Been To One Of Those Mom & Pop, Small-Town Florida Restaurants that Sell, Like, a Whole Tray Of Crab Legs and Ginormous Shrimp For $10? Yeah, We Found Where They Come From

Allie

Luke’s command was much easier said than done, as it turned out. 

I watched him use his super speed for as long as I could, but then Romans started landing on the ship and my focus turned to them. There were only three of us easily disposable now (I had banished Coach Hedge to his room while the rest of the action went on for knocking our friends out of the sky), but I wasn’t too worried. The Romans had only sent five up onto the Argo II, which was almost insulting. 

They looked pretty smug at first. Stupid misogyny and stupid boys underestimating a couple of girls. I drew my weapons as I walked and felt satisfaction wash over me as their expressions fell. Poor them, forgetting who they were dealing with. What a shame. 

"Okay, ladies, now let's get in formation," I said under my breath. 

"'Cause I slay," Piper muttered back, and I was happy that she humored me enough to finish the song lyric.

"What?" Hazel asked. 

"That's not the next line, Hazel," I chided. She shot me a confused look. "Never mind." 

I lunged. 

The first Roman, who was watching our conversation with a lot of enthusiasm, let me tackle him to the ground while Piper and Hazel went to work with the other four. I knocked him out with the flat of Riptide's blade and quickly rejoined the girls. 

Three against four was much more manageable, plus there were two Greek-style fighters that threw the Romans off, along with another who knew Roman techniques, and could exploit problems our opponents had. Our only problem was, once we got the five of them down, we noticed the large group making their way towards us, following Frank, Leo, and Jason.

“How’d your talk with the Nereids go?” Hazel asked as we waited to see where we’d be most needed. 

"They said we need to seek help from Chiron's brothers," I told the girls, while getting my swords ready once more. "I don't know if they meant the Party Ponies or something else, but…"

"Oh, gods," Piper muttered. "I've heard stories. Are they really—"

"— Batshit? Insane? Crazy? A little on the low IQ side? Yes."

"Ah."

"Ay, yo, Jason!" I called as he got within earshot. "You ready to create a storm of epic proportions?"

"If it gets us out of here alive," he called back, "absolutely!"

In minutes, Jason and I became a pretty destructive team. With his control over wind and mine over water, we were able to keep the ship relatively free of Roman enemies. The few who did manage to make it onto the ship were dealt with by Hazel, Frank, Piper, or Leo. 

Jason called upon a lightning strike as I brought a large wave up from the harbor. The two connecting turned the air electric, making the hair on my arms stand on end. 

Despite the crowd of Romans and the storm Jason and I were creating taking up most of my view, I caught sight of Luke and Malcolm running towards us. 

"Jason!"

He turned to look at me and I pointed in their direction. 

"Cool it just a little!" I turned to Leo. "Leo, go start pulling the Argo II away!"

"On it!"

The winds that battered the Romans didn't affect Luke as he sprinted through their lines, carrying Malcolm in a fireman’s hold to use his superspeed to his advantage. 

Octavian yelled, "Stop him!" but he was too late. No one was able to get close to him, Luke was far too fast. 

A spear flew past his ear. The Argo II was already pulling away from the dock.

Luke leaped and grabbed my hand. The gangplank fell into the sea, and both of us tumbled onto the deck. Malcolm rolled over my head and tumbled to the ground, clutching at his pants pocket.

"Go!" Luke screamed. "Go, go, go!"

The engines rumbled beneath us. The oars churned. I forced myself back onto my feet. Jason changed the course of the wind, and I grabbed a hold of a massive wave, which lifted the ship higher than the fort's walls and pushed it out to sea. By the time the Argo II reached top speed, Fort Sumter was only a blot in the distance, and we were racing across the waves toward the ancient lands.

*    *    * 

We kept the storms going until we were certain we weren’t being followed. 

When we finally stopped, Jason slumped against the mast in exhaustion and I had to blink spots out of my vision. 

After filling Luke in on my extremely short conversation with the Nereids, he kissed me and then nodded while walking back to talk to Leo. Piper walked over to us with a water bottle in each hand. 

I made quick work of mine, then brought up a small stream of ocean water to spill over my head. I remained dry, but the pure ocean water energized me more than anything else in the world ever could. 

“That’s so cool,” Frank murmured beside me. “I noticed it after the aquarium, but we kind of had bigger fish to fry.” 

“What the ‘staying dry’ thing?” I asked. When he nodded, I continued, “It’s definitely very convenient.” 

We spent the next two hours telling each other crazy stories about our lives and stories we had while growing up. Luke had joined my side only a few minutes after going to speak to Leo and chimed in with stories of our adventures every so often. 

Hazel and Frank stayed to themselves, having a very heated conversation that we decided not to get apart of. 

The argument stopped abruptly when Hazel saw Leo. We gathered at the mast.

Frank scowled like he was trying hard to turn into a bulldog. "No sign of pursuit," he said.

"Or land," Hazel added. She looked a little green, and I felt bad about making her get on a boat again. It was clear she definitely wanted a different mode of transportation, but unfortunately for her, this was all we had.

Leo turned to Luke. "Did you and Malcolm find the map you wanted?"

He nodded, though he looked a little pale. I wondered what he'd seen at Fort Sumter that could have shaken him up so badly, but he didn't tell me, at least he wouldn’t in front of everyone. I wrapped an arm around him and he pulled me closer to his side.

"Me and Malcolm will have to study it," he said, as if that was the end of the subject. "How far are we from those coordinates I gave you?"

"At top rowing speed, about an hour," Leo answered. "Any idea what we're looking for?"

"No," he admitted. "Angel?"

I tilted my head. "The Nereid said Chiron's brothers were there, and they'd want to hear about that aquarium in Atlanta. I don't know what she meant, but…" I paused. "She also warned me to be careful. Keto, the goddess at the aquarium: she's the mother of sea monsters. She might be stuck in Atlanta, but she can still send her children after us. The Nereid said we should expect an attack."

"Wonderful," Frank muttered.

Jason tried to stand, which wasn't a good idea. Piper grabbed him to keep him from falling over, and he slid back down the mast.

"Can we get the ship aloft?" he asked. "If we could fly—"

"That'd be great," Leo said. "Except Festus tells me the port aerial stabilizer got pulverized when the ship raked against the dock at Fort Sumter."

"We were in a hurry," Luke said. "Trying to save you."

"And saving me is a very noble cause," Leo agreed. "I'm just saying, it'll take some time to fix. Until then, we're not flying anywhere."

I rolled my shoulders and winced. Stupid Achilles Curse didn't stop me from being sore and definitely didn't keep my bones from popping with almost every move I made. I had myself to blame for that last one, though. Still, the popping of my ankles sounded warning bells in my head, though I knew it was impossible for me to break them. 

"Fine with me. The sea is good." I shrugged. “Where I’m strongest, at least.” 

"Speak for yourself." Hazel glanced at the evening sun, which was almost to the horizon. "We need to go fast. We've burned another day, and Nico only has three more left."

"We can do it," Leo promised. "We can make it to Rome in three days— assuming, you know, nothing unexpected happens."

Frank grunted. He looked like he was still working on that bulldog transformation. "Is there any good news?"

"Actually, yes," Leo said. "According to Festus, our flying table, Buford, made it back safely while we were in Charleston, so those eagles didn't get him. Unfortunately, he lost the laundry bag with your pants."

"Dang it!" Frank barked.

No doubt Frank would've cursed some more— busting out the golly gees and the gosh darns— but Jason interrupted by doubling over and groaning.

"Did the world just turn upside down?" he asked.

We all exchanged concerned looks.

"Summoning that storm really sapped your strength," Piper told him. "You've got to rest. You probably should, too, Allie. We’ll need you well-rested."

Luke and I nodded agreement. "Frank, can you help Piper get Jason below decks?"

Frank glanced at Leo, no doubt reluctant to leave him alone with Hazel.

"It's fine, man," Leo said. "Just try not to drop him on the way down the stairs."

Frank grumbled under his breath and, though I understood where he was coming from, I didn't think Leo was the type to go after a taken girl. And Hazel was definitely too old-fashioned to cheat. He shouldn't have to worry, but there was also the untouchable subject of Sammy. That was the one undecided factor and probably the only reason Frank was still on the fence. 

Luke caught my frown and sent me a questioning look. I nodded towards Frank and the way we'd come, then mouthed I'll explain later. 

"I think we all just need to take a power nap. It's— ugh. It's been a long day." I yawned again and leaned further into Luke's side. "Those opposed?" 

Frank looked like he wanted to go back up, but his eyes drooped. 

"Yup. A nap sounds fantastic," Luke replied, grabbing under my knees and picking me up bridal-style. “C’mon, Angel.”

Jason mumbled something, already almost asleep in Piper and Frank's arms.

*    *    * 

What I was definitely not expecting was to get woken up by getting thrown onto the ground. However, that's exactly what happened as the ship turned to one side and everything on board moved to the right. 

The five of us, who were all sleeping peacefully, jolted awake and tried to pull ourselves together as we stumbled out of our rooms. 

"What the fuuu—" Jason mumbled as he tried pushing himself up. 

Despite still being tired and low on energy, I rushed to my feet and tried to balance as best I could. 

Frank and I were the first up the stairs with the others trailing behind. My mind whirled with all kinds of possibilities of monsters, but none of my guesses were even close. 

"Holy shit, that's the fucking shrimp small-town Florida restaurants sell," I cried, jumping back and eyes widening at the creature before me. 

Frank ran to Hazel's side. She was clutching the rigging, looking dazed, but she gestured that she was all right.

The monster rammed the ship again. The hull groaned. Luke, Piper, and Jason tumbled to starboard and almost rolled overboard.

Leo reached the helm. His hands flew across the controls. Over the intercom, Festus clacked and clicked. He toggled the oars, but they didn't seem like they were doing anything. 

"How did it get so close?" Luke shouted, pulling himself up on one of the rail shields.

"I don't know!" Hedge snarled. He looked around for his bat, which had rolled across the quarterdeck.

"I'm stupid!" Leo scolded himself. "Stupid, stupid! I forgot the sonar!"

The ship tilted farther to starboard. Either the monster was trying to give us a hug, or it was about to capsize us.

"Sonar?" Hedge demanded. "Pan's pipes, Valdez! Maybe if you hadn't been staring into Hazel's eyes, holding hands for so long—"

"What?" Frank yelped.

I couldn’t even scold Frank for prioritizing that comment over our very sticky predicament because… what?

"It wasn't like that!" Hazel protested.

"It doesn't matter!" Piper said. "Jason, can you call some lightning?"

Jason struggled to his feet. "I—" He only managed to shake his head. Summoning the storm earlier had taken too much out of him. I doubted the poor guy could pop a spark plug in the shape he was in.

"Angel!" Luke yelled. "Can you talk to that thing? Do you know what it is?"

I shook my head, not even trying. "No idea what it is, and I don't think there are human words to translate what the dude's saying. I don't think I could if I tried."

The monster's tendrils lashed across the deck so fast, I barely had time to react. I was about to get thrown back downstairs, but somehow, I managed to intercept it with Riptide. 

Another wrapped around Piper's legs and dragged her, screaming, toward the rail. Dozens more tendrils curled around the masts, encircling the crossbows and ripping down the rigging.

"Nose-hair attack!" Hedge snatched up his bat and leaped into action, but his hits just bounced harmlessly off the tendrils.

Jason drew his sword. He tried to free Piper, but he was still weak. His gold blade cut through the tendrils with no problem, but faster than he could sever them, more took their place.

Luke unsheathed his sword. We ran through the forest of tentacles, dodging and stabbing at whatever target we could find. Frank pulled out his bow. He fired over the side at the creature's body, lodging arrows in the chinks of its shell, but that only seemed to annoy the monster. It bellowed, and rocked the ship. The mast creaked like it might snap off.

We needed more firepower.

"Hazel!" Leo yelled, like he was reading my thoughts. "That box! Open it!"

She hesitated, then saw the box he meant. The label read WARNING. DO NOT OPEN.

"Open it!" Leo yelled again. "Coach, take the wheel! Turn us toward the monster, or we'll capsize."

Hedge danced through the tentacles with his nimble goat hooves, smashing away with gusto. He bounded toward the helm and took the controls.

"Hope you got a plan!" he shouted.

"A bad one." Leo raced toward the mast.

The monster pushed against the Argo II. The deck lurched to forty-five degrees. Despite our efforts, the tentacles were just too numerous to fight. They seemed able to elongate as much as they wanted. Soon they'd have the Argo II completely entangled. 

"Frank!" Leo called as he ran toward Hazel. "Buy us some time! Can you turn into a shark or something?"

Frank glanced over, scowling, and in that moment a tentacle slammed into the big guy, knocking him overboard.

Hazel screamed. She'd opened the supply box and almost dropped the two glass vials she was holding.

Leo caught them. Each was the size of an apple, and the liquid inside glowed poisonous green.

"Come on!" He handed Hazel one of the vials. "We can kill the monster— and save Frank!"

"What is this stuff?" Hazel gasped, cradling her glass vial.

"Greek fire!" I yelled to her, dodging a tentacle and ending up close to them. 

Her eyes widened. "Are you crazy? If these break, we'll burn the whole ship!"

"Its mouth!" Leo said. "Just chuck it down its—"

Then they were wrapped together in a tentacle. Leo's arms were free, but he looked like he could barely keep hold of the Greek fire vial. Hazel struggled. Her arms were pinned, which meant at any moment the vial trapped between them might break… And that would be extremely bad for their health.

They rose ten feet, twenty feet, thirty feet above the monster, while the rest of us fought a losing battle, yelling and slashing at the monster. Coach Hedge was still struggling to keep the ship from capsizing. 

"Allie! Get ready!" Leo yelled from above. 

Leo stared down at the monster's head. He raised the vial in his left hand. He pressed his right hand against the tentacle and summoned fire to his palm— a narrowly focused, white-hot burst.

I only barely understood what he meant, which would've been bad if I didn't.

The fire got the creature's attention. A tremble went all the way down the tentacle as its flesh blistered under Leo's touch. The monster raised its maw, bellowing in pain, while Leo threw the vial down to me. With a catch worthy of getting me into the NFL, I caught it one-handed over the railing, just barely keeping myself on the ship. With the monster's mouth still open, I chucked the vial down its throat. 

The blast threw everyone to the ground and the moon seemed to go dark for a few seconds.

*    *    * 

Turns out the moon went dark for a little longer than a few seconds because the next time I woke up, Luke was shaking me awake and I was no longer on the deck. 

"Good, you finally have enough energy to wake up. That's good," he said, giving me a troubled smile. 

"Woah," I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. "How long was I out?"

"Like… ten hours I think? We've been trying to find Leo, Hazel, and Frank, but we haven't found them yet. Do you think you're up to—"

"Ten hours?" I repeated. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

I tried getting out of bed far quicker than I should have. The world went crooked for a moment and Luke had to grab me around the waist to keep me from falling to the ground. 

“Careful, Angel,” he scolded me. “Go slowly.” 

Luke carried most of my body weight as he led me up the stairs and brought me over to the railing. I could see the others up near the helm, looking over the radar. 

“Alright, Allie?” Malcolm called down. “That blast got you pretty good.” 

“Enough,” I replied, trying to hide the stiffness in my shoulders. “When—?” 

Before I could even behind forming a game plan, three giant pink bubbles burst at the surface off the starboard bow and ejected Frank, Hazel, and Leo. Piper went a little crazy. She cried out with relief and dove straight into the water.

She paddled over to Leo and kissed him on the cheek, which kind of surprised him.

"Miss me?" Leo laughed.

Piper was suddenly furious. "Where were you? How are you guys alive?"

"Long story," he said. A picnic basket bobbed to the surface next to him. "Want a brownie?"

Once they got on board and changed into dry clothes (Poor Frank had to borrow a pair of too-small pants from Jason) the crew all gathered on the quarterdeck for a celebratory breakfast— except for Coach Hedge, who grumbled that the atmosphere was getting too cuddly for his tastes and went below to hammer out some dents in the hull. While Leo fussed over his helm controls, Hazel and Frank related the story of the fish-centaurs and their training camp.

"Incredible," Jason said. "These are really good brownies."

"That's your only comment?" Piper demanded.

He looked surprised. "What? I heard the story. Fish-centaurs. Merpeople. Letter of intro to the Tiber River god. Got it. But these brownies—"

"I know," Frank said, his mouth full. "Try them with Esther's peach preserves."

"That," Hazel said, "is incredibly disgusting."

"Pass me the jar, man," Jason said.

Hazel, Piper, and I exchanged a look of total exasperation. Boys.

However, I still wanted to hear every detail about the aquatic camp. I kept coming back to one point: "They didn't want to meet me?"

"It wasn't that," Hazel said. "Just… undersea politics, I guess. The merpeople are territorial. The good news is they're taking care of that aquarium in Atlanta. And they'll help protect the Argo II as we cross the Atlantic."

I nodded absently. "But they didn't want to meet me. This is making me unnecessarily insecure and I don't like it."

Luke kissed my cheek.  "Come on, Angel! We've got other things to worry about."

"He's right," Hazel said. "After today, Nico has less than two days. The fish-centaurs said we have to rescue him. He's essential to the quest somehow."

She looked around defensively, as if waiting for someone to argue. No one did. I tried to imagine what Nico di Angelo was feeling, stuck in a jar with only two pomegranate seeds left to sustain him, and no idea whether he would be rescued. It made me anxious to reach Rome, even though I had a horrible feeling we were sailing toward our own sort of prison.

"Nico must have information about the Doors of Death," I said soothingly. "We'll save him, Hazel. We can make it in time. Right, Leo?"

"What?" Leo tore his eyes away from the controls. "Oh, yeah. We should reach the Mediterranean tomorrow morning. Then spend the rest of that day sailing to Rome, or flying, if I can get the stabilizer fixed by then…"

Jason suddenly looked as though his brownie with peach preserves didn't taste so good. "Which will put us in Rome on the last possible day for Nico. Twenty-four hours to find him— at most."

I crossed my legs. "And that's only part of the problem. There's the Mark of Athena, too."

Luke and Malcolm both didn't seem happy with the change of topic. Malcolm rested his hand on his backpack, which, since we'd left Charleston, he seemed to not allow to be left out of his sight.

He opened the bag and brought out a thin bronze disk the diameter of a donut. "This is the map that I found at Fort Sumter. It's…"

He stopped abruptly, staring at the smooth bronze surface. "It's blank!"

Luke took it and leaned close for us to examine both sides. 

"It wasn't like this earlier?" I asked. 

"No! We were looking at it in his cabin and…" Luke muttered under his breath. "It must be like the Mark of Athena. We can only see it when we’re alone or together. It won't show itself to other demigods."

Frank scooted back like the disk might explode. He had an orange-juice mustache and a brownie crumb beard that made me want to hand him a napkin.

"What did it have on it?" Frank asked nervously. "And what is the Mark of Athena? I still don't get it."

Luke turned the disk in the sunlight, but it remained blank. "The map was hard to read, but it showed a spot on the Tiber River in Rome. I think that's where mine and Malcolm's quest starts… The path we've got to take to follow the Mark."

"Maybe that's where you meet the river god Tiberinus," Piper said. "But what is the Mark?"

"The coin," Malcolm murmured.

I frowned. "What coin?"

He dug into his pocket and brought out a silver drachma. "I’ve been carrying this ever since we saw my mom at your apartment, Allie. It's an Athenian coin. It’s… I can’t lose it. Like your swords. And trust me— I’ve tried."

He passed it around. While each demigod looked at it, I had a ridiculous memory of show-and-tell in elementary school.

"An owl," Leo noted. "Well, that makes sense. I guess the branch is an olive branch? But what's this inscription, ℑ∪⊕— Area Of Effect?"

"It's alpha, theta, epsilon," Luke said. "In Greek, it stands for Of The Athenians… Or you could read it as the children of Athena, right, Malcolm? It's sort of the Athenian motto."

"Like SPQR for the Romans," Piper guessed.

Luke nodded. "Anyway, the Mark of Athena is an owl, just like that one. It appears in fiery red. I've seen it in my dreams. Then twice at Fort Sumter."

He described what had happened at the fort without actually describing what happened. Just describing simple things, without saying the actual fear. Malcolm had to clench his fists to keep from shaking. 

Feeling like he needed the support, I grabbed his hand. "I wish I could've been there for you. I'm sorry that I can't."

"It's not your fault, Angel. Me and Malcolm aren't sure what the connection between the kids of Hermes and Athena are, but the best we can figure is that my role is more of a guide. That's how it's rumored to be, at least."

Frank took the coin from Leo. He stared at the owl. "The giants' bane stands gold and pale, Won with pain from a woven jail." He looked up at Luke. "What is it… this thing at the source?"

Before Luke could answer, Jason spoke up.

"A statue," he said. "A statue of Athena. At least… that's my guess."

Piper frowned. "You said you didn't know."

"I don't. But the more I think about it… There's only one artifact that could fit the legend." He turned to Luke. "I'm sorry. I should have told you two everything I've heard, much earlier. But honestly, I was scared. If this legend is true—"

"I know," Luke said. "We figured it out, Jason. I don't blame you. But if we manage to save the statue, Greek and Romans together… Don't you see? It could heal the rift."

"Pause." Leo made a time-out gesture. "For all us slow-types out there, what statue are we talking about?"

Malcolm took back the silver coin and slipped it into his pocket. "The Athena Parthenos," he said. "The most famous Greek statue of all time. It was forty feet tall, covered in ivory and gold. It stood in the middle of the Parthenon in Athens."

The ship went silent, except for the waves lapping against the hull.

"Okay, I'll bite," Leo said at last. "What happened to it?"

"It disappeared," I said, remembering the legend. "Danny mentioned it to me years ago, like, before I knew I was a demigod, after I asked about a whole bunch of Urban Legends. We looked a few up and that was one that popped up."

Leo frowned. "How does a forty-foot-tall statue in the middle of the Parthenon just disappear?"

"That's a good question," I said. "It's one of the biggest mysteries in history. Some people thought the statue was melted down for its gold, or destroyed by invaders. Athens was sacked a number of times. Some thought the statue was carried off—"

"By Romans," Jason finished. "At least, that's one theory, and it fits the legend I heard at Camp Jupiter. To break the Greeks' spirit, the Romans carted off the Athena Parthenos when they took over the city of Athens. They hid it in an underground shrine in Rome. The Roman demigods swore it would never see the light of day. They literally stole Athena, so she could no longer be the symbol of Greek military power. She became Minerva, a much tamer goddess."

"And the children of Athena have been searching for the statue ever since," Luke said. "Most don't know about the legend, but in each generation, a few are chosen by the goddess and then they choose a child of Hermes. They're given a coin like that one. They follow the Mark of Athena… A kind of magical trail that links them to the statue... hoping to find the resting place of the Athena Parthenos and get the statue back."

"So if you and Malcolm find the statue…” Piper began, “what would we do with it? Could we even move it?"

"I'm not sure," Luke admitted. "But if we could save it somehow, it could unite the two camps. It could heal Athena of this hatred she's got, tearing her two aspects apart. And maybe… Maybe the statue has some sort of power that could help us against the giants."

I stared at Luke with awe, just starting to appreciate the huge responsibility my boyfriend and friend had taken on. And they had to do it alone.

"This could change everything," I marveled. "It could end thousands of years of hostility. It might be the key to defeating Gaea. But if we can't help you…"

I didn't finish, but the question seemed to hang in the air: Was saving the statue even possible?

Luke squared his shoulders. I knew he must be terrified inside, but he did a good job hiding it. He always did.

"We have to succeed," Luke said simply. "The risk is worth it."

Hazel twirled her hair pensively. "I don't like the idea of you both risking your lives, but you're right. We saw what recovering the golden eagle standard did for the Roman legion. If this statue is the most powerful symbol of Athena ever created—"

"It could kick some serious ass," Leo offered.

Hazel frowned. "That wasn't the way I'd put it, but yes."

"Except…" I took Luke's hand again. "No child of Athena and Hermes has ever found it. Luke, what's down there? What's guarding it? If it's got to do with spiders and—"

"Won through pain from a woven jail," Frank recalled. "Woven, like webs?"

Luke and Malcolm's faces turned as white as printer paper. I suspected that he knew what awaited him and Malcolm… or at least that he had a very good idea. He was trying to hold down a wave of panic and terror.

"We'll deal with that when we get to Rome," Piper suggested, putting a little charmspeak in her voice to soothe all of our nerves. "It's going to work out. Luke and Malcolm are going to kick some serious ass, too. You'll see."

"Yeah," I said. "I learned a long time ago: Never bet against Luke." I brought his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. 

Luke looked at us both gratefully.

Judging from their half-eaten breakfasts, the others still felt uneasy, but Leo managed to shake us out of it. He pushed a button, and a loud blast of steam exploded from Festus's mouth, making everyone jump.

"Well!" he said. "Good pep rally, but there's still a ton of things to fix on this ship before we get to the Mediterranean. Please report to Supreme Commander Leo for your superfun list of chores!"

*** 

That next morning, Luke and I jolted awake in each other's arms to the sound of a different ship's horn. It was unnecessarily loud and I might've thought Leo was playing a prank on all of us if I didn't know any better. 

Luke bolted upright. "What the hell?"

"Just another ship's horn," I commented, trying to keep as close as possible to sleep. The horn blew again. "It's not coming from here. It's further away."

He nodded and the two of us decided to get up and go see the ship. The others seemed to have had the same idea, though, they must not have known it wasn't a threat, because they all looked very hastily dressed, except for Coach Hedge, who had pulled the night watch.

Piper's t-shirt was crooked and her braid was falling loose. Frank's Vancouver Winter Olympics shirt was inside out. Hazel's hair was all blown to one side, as though she'd walked through a cyclone and Leo had accidentally set himself on fire. His T-shirt was in charred tatters. His arms were smoking.

About a hundred yards to port, a massive cruise ship glided past. Tourists waved at us from fifteen or sixteen rows of balconies. Some smiled and took pictures. None of them looked surprised to see an Ancient Greek trireme. Maybe the Mist made it look like a fishing boat, or perhaps the cruisers thought the Argo II was a tourist attraction.

The cruise ship blew its horn again, and the Argo II had a shaking fit.

Coach Hedge plugged his ears. "Do they have to be so loud?"

"They're just saying hi," Frank speculated.

"WHAT?" Hedge yelled back.

The ship edged past us, heading out to sea. The tourists kept waving. If they found it strange that the Argo II was populated by half-asleep kids in pajamas and a man with goat legs, they didn't let on.

"Bye!" Leo called, raising his smoking hand.

"Can I man the ballistae?" Hedge asked.

"No," Leo said through a forced smile.

Hazel rubbed her eyes and looked across the glittering green water. "Where are— oh… Wow."

I followed her gaze and gasped, despite having seen the place before. Without the cruise ship blocking our view, we could see the mountain jutting from the sea less than half a mile to the north. I had seen impressive sights before, having traveled most of the world for work. But this massive fist of blinding white rock thrust into the sky was one of the best. On one side, the limestone cliffs were almost completely sheer, dropping into the sea over a thousand feet below, as near as I could figure. On the other side, the mountain sloped in tiers, covered in green forest, so that the whole thing reminded me of a colossal sphinx, worn down over the millennia, with a massive white head and chest, and a green cloak over its back.

"The Rock of Gibraltar," I said. "At the tip of Spain. And over there—" I pointed south, to a more distant stretch of red and ochre hills. "That is Africa. We're at the mouth of the Mediterranean."

The morning was warm, but I shivered. Despite the wide stretch of sea in front of us, I felt like I was standing at an impassable barrier. Once in the Mediterranean— the Mare Nostrum— we would be in the ancient lands. If the legends were true, our quest would become ten times more dangerous.

But you've been here before, I reminded myself. Had I felt this way all of those times I'd flown over the Mediterranean? I couldn't remember. 

"What now?" Piper asked. "Do we just sail in?"

"Why not?" Leo said. "It's a big shipping channel. Boats go in and out all the time."

Not triremes full of demigods, I thought. But what do I know?

I gazed at the Rock of Gibraltar.

"In the old days," I said, "they called this area the Pillars of Hercules. The Rock was supposed to be one pillar. The other was one of the African mountains. Nobody is sure which one."

"Hercules, huh?" Luke frowned, and we shared a look, thinking the same thing. "That guy was like the Starbucks of Ancient Greece. Everywhere you turn— there he is."

"Yeah, unfortunately. Dude's a dick."

A thunderous boom shook the Argo II, and I rolled my eyes. 

Piper spoke like her mouth was dry. "So… These Pillars of Hercules. Are they dangerous?"

I stayed focused on the white cliffs. "For Greeks, the pillars marked the end of the known world. The Romans said the pillars were inscribed with a Latin warning— Non plus ultra. Nothing Further Beyond."

Luke pointed. "You mean that?"

Directly ahead of us, in the middle of the straits, an island had shimmered into existence. It was a small hilly mass of land, covered in forests and ringed with white beaches. Not very impressive compared to Gibraltar, but in front of the island, jutting from waves about a hundred yards offshore, were two white Grecian columns as tall as the Argo's masts. Between the columns, huge silver words glittered underwater— maybe an illusion, or maybe inlaid in the sand: NON PLUS ULTRA.

"That exactly."

"Guys, do I turn around?" Leo asked nervously. "Or…"

No one answered— maybe because, like me, they had noticed the figure standing on the beach. As the ship approached the columns, I saw a dark-haired man in purple robes, his arms crossed, staring intently at our ship as if he were expecting us. I couldn't tell much else about him from this distance, but judging from his posture, he wasn't happy. That made me happy, though. As long as the asshole himself was disdained, nothing could piss me off. 

Frank inhaled sharply. "Could that be—?"

"Hercules," Jason said. "The most powerful demigod of all time."

The Argo II was only a few hundred yards from the columns now.

"Need an answer," Leo said urgently. "I can turn, or we can take off. The stabilizers are working again. But I need to know quick—"

"We have to keep going," I said. "I think he's guarding these straits. If that's really the dick himself, sailing or flying away wouldn't do any good. He'll want to talk to us."

"Won't Hercules be on our side?" Piper asked hopefully. "I mean… he's one of us, right?"

I scoffed. "He was a son of Zeus, but when he died, he became a god. You can never be sure with gods. Remember our meeting with Bacchus in Kansas— another god who used to be a demigod. He wasn't exactly helpful."

"Great," Luke said. "Seven of us against Hercules."

"And a satyr!" Hedge added. "We can take him."

"I've got a better idea," I said. "We send ambassadors ashore. A small group— one or two at most. Try to talk with him."

"I'll go," Jason said. "He's a son of Zeus. I'm the son of Jupiter. Maybe he'll be friendly to me."

"Or maybe he'll hate you," I suggested. "Half-siblings don't always get along."

Jason scowled. "Thank you, Miss Optimism."

"It's worth a shot, though, I guess," I said. "At least you and he will have something in common. And we need our best diplomat. Somebody who's good with words."

All eyes turned to Piper and me.

"And for the record, I'm not going. I'd rather hold the sky for a week again. Sorry, Pipes."

"You what?" Leo asked.

"Don't worry about it."

*    *    *

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