Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

JASON HATED BEING OLD.

His joints hurt. His legs shook. As he tried to climb the hill, his lungs rattled like a box of rocks. He couldn’t see his face, thank goodness, but his fingers were gnarled and bony. Bulging blue veins webbed the backs of his hands. He even had that old-man smell—mothballs and chicken soup. How was that possible? He’d gone from sixteen to seventy-five in a matter of seconds, but the old-man smell happened instantly, like Boom. Congratulations! You stink!

“Almost there.” Piper smiled at him. “You’re doing great.”

Easy for her to say. Piper and Alex were disguised as lovely Greek serving maidens. Even in their white sleeveless gowns and laced sandals, they had no trouble navigating the rocky path.

Piper’s mahogany hair was pinned up in a braided spiral. Silver bracelets adorned her arms. She resembled an ancient statue of her mom, Aphrodite, which was both intimidating and awe striking.

Jason glanced uphill. The summit was still a hundred yards above.

“Worst idea ever.” He leaned against a cedar tree and wiped his forehead. “Hazel’s magic is too good. If I have to fight, I’ll be useless.”

“Relax, dude,” Alex said. “Piper and I can protect you.”

Jason wasn’t sure how much of Alex’s new look was Hazel’s Mist magic and how much of it was actually Alex’s own doing. When they had come up with the plan of how to approach the hill, Alex had volunteered to go so Hazel didn’t have to keep up the disguise and play her part.

“My mother did this once,” she explained. “This giant stole Thor’s hammer, so Thor disguised himself as Freya and Loki disguised himself as a bridesmaid. Also, I disguised myself as my sister once, so I think I’m capable of this.”

Alex’s short green hair had lengthened into dark brown curls that cascaded down her back. She looked vaguely familiar, but Jason couldn’t quite place the look. All in all, she looked like she came straight out of ancient Greece.

“Nico left Magnus and I pretty specific instructions about this,” Alex continued. “We infiltrate the palace, we get the information we need, and we get out. Most importantly,” she fixed her eyes on Jason. “We don’t let ourselves get stabbed, yeah? Nico will kill me if I bring you back dead.”

“The number of times I get stabbed on this quest is astounding,” Jason grumbled. “I’d like to avoid that too, but how am I supposed to defend myself like this? I can barely walk.”

Piper set down her amphora, the tall ceramic wine jar in which her sword was hidden. “We can rest for a second. Catch your breath, Jason.”

From her waist cord hung her cornucopia—the magic horn of plenty. Tucked somewhere in the folds of her dress was her knife, Katoptris. Piper didn’t look dangerous, but if the need arose she could dual-wield Celestial bronze blades or shoot her enemies in the face with ripe mangoes.

Alex slung her own amphora off her shoulder. She did not have a concealed weapon. If anything, her weapon was fairly obvious. The garrote Alex was so fond of was tied around her waist like a belt. Jason seriously hoped whatever they ran into had never seen a clay cutter before.

He tried to steady his breathing.

Below them, Afales Bay glittered, the water so blue it might’ve been dyed with food coloring. A few hundred yards offshore, the Argo II rested at anchor. Its white sails looked no bigger than postage stamps, its ninety oars like toothpicks. Jason imagined his friends on deck following his progress, taking turns with Leo’s spyglass, trying not to laugh as they watched Grandpa Jason hobble uphill.

“Stupid Ithaca,” he muttered.

He supposed the island was pretty enough. A spine of forested hills twisted down its center. Chalky white slopes plunged into the sea. Inlets formed rocky beaches and harbors where red-roofed houses and white stucco churches nestled against the shoreline. The hills were dotted with poppies, crocuses and wild cherry trees. The breeze smelled of blooming myrtle. All very nice—except the temperature was about a hundred and five degrees. The air was as steamy as a Roman bathhouse.

It would’ve been easy for Jason to control the winds and fly to the top of the hill, but nooo. For the sake of stealth, he had to struggle along as an old dude with bad knees and chicken-soup stink.

He thought about his last climb, two weeks ago, when Hazel and he had faced the bandit Sciron on the cliffs of Croatia. At least then Jason had been at full strength. What they were about to face would be much worse than a bandit.

“You sure this is the right hill?” he asked. “Seems kind of—I don’t know—quiet.”

Piper studied the ridgeline. “The ruins are up there,” she promised. “I saw them in Katoptris’s blade. And you heard what Hazel said. ‘The biggest—’”

“‘The biggest gathering of evil spirits I’ve ever sensed,’” Jason recalled. “Yeah, sounds awesome.”

After battling through the underground temple of Hades, the last thing Jason wanted was to deal with more evil spirits. But the fate of the quest was at stake. The crew of the Argo II had a big decision to make. If they chose wrong, they would fail, and the entire world would be destroyed. Piper’s blade, Hazel’s magical senses and Nico’s notes all agreed—the answer lay here in Ithaca, at the ancient palace of Odysseus, where a horde of evil spirits had gathered to await Gaea’s orders. The plan was to sneak among them, learn what was going on and decide the best course of action. Then get out, preferably alive.

Something that was apparently going to be very hard for Jason since Nico was warning everyone not to let him get stabbed in the back.

“According to what Nico told Magnus and Alex, Annabeth said the suitors are just as nasty as they were when they were alive,” Piper said.

Alex rubbed her arms. “Can we get this over with? I know I volunteered, but changing human bodies is a lot different than changing into an animal body. It feels weird. And if we’re going to have a bunch of dead guys hanging off us, I’d rather get that over with quickly.”

Piper scowled. “Hanging off us…”

Jason wasn’t too happy about that either. He wasn’t looking forward to meeting the suitors.

The suitors: a hundred of the greediest, evilest cut-throats who’d ever lived. When Odysseus, the Greek king of Ithaca, went missing after the Trojan War, this mob of B-list princes had invaded his palace and refused to leave, each one hoping to marry Queen Penelope and take over the kingdom. Odysseus managed to return in secret and slaughter them all—your basic happy homecoming. But the suitors were now back, haunting the place where they’d died.

Jason couldn’t believe he was about to visit the actual palace of—one of the most famous Greek heroes of all time. Then again, this whole quest had been one mind-blowing event after another.

“Well…” He steadied himself with his walking stick. “If I look as old as I feel, my disguise must be perfect. Let’s get going.”

As they climbed, sweat trickled down his neck. His calves ached. Despite the heat, he began to shiver. And, try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about his recent dreams.

Ever since the House of Hades, they’d become more vivid.

Sometimes Jason stood in the underground temple of Epirus, the giant Clytius looming over him, speaking in a chorus of disembodied voices: It took all of you together to defeat me. What will you do when the Earth Mother opens her eyes?

Other times Jason found himself at the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Gaea the Earth Mother rose from the ground—a swirling figure of soil, leaves and stones.

Poor child. Her voice resonated across the landscape, shaking the bedrock under Jason’s feet. Your father is first among the gods, yet you are always second best—to your Roman comrades, to your Greek friends, even to your family. How will you prove yourself?

His worst dream started in the courtyard of the Sonoma Wolf House. Before him stood the goddess Juno, glowing with the radiance of molten silver.

Your life belongs to me, her voice thundered. An appeasement from Zeus.

Jason knew he shouldn’t look, but he couldn’t close his eyes as Juno went supernova, revealing her true godly form. Pain seared Jason’s mind. His body burned away in layers like an onion.

Then the scene changed. Jason was still at the Wolf House, but now he was a little boy—no more than two years old. A woman knelt before him, her lemony scent so familiar. Her features were watery and indistinct, but he knew her voice: bright and brittle, like the thinnest layer of ice over a fast stream.

I will be back for you, dearest, she said. I will see you soon.

Every time Jason woke up from that nightmare, his face was beaded with sweat. His eyes stung with tears.

Nico di Angelo had warned them: the House of Hades would stir their worst memories, make them see things and hear things from the past. Their ghosts would become restless.

Jason had hoped that particular ghost would stay away, but every night the dream got worse. Now he was climbing to the ruins of a palace where an army of ghosts had gathered.

That doesn’t mean she’ll be there, Jason told himself.

But his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Every step seemed harder than the last.

“Almost there,” Alex said. “Let’s—”

BOOM! The hillside rumbled. Somewhere over the ridge, a crowd roared in approval, like spectators in a coliseum. The sound made Jason’s skin crawl. Not so long ago, he’d fought for his life in the Roman Colosseum before a cheering ghostly audience. He wasn’t anxious to repeat the experience.

“What was that explosion?” he wondered.

“Don’t know,” Piper said. “But it sounds like they’re having fun. Let’s go make some dead friends.”

Chapter Text

NATURALLY, the situation was worse than Jason expected.

It wouldn’t have been any fun otherwise.

Peering through the olive bushes at the top of the rise, he saw what looked like an out-of-control zombie frat party.

The ruins themselves weren’t that impressive: a few stone walls, a weed-choked central courtyard, a dead-end stairwell chiselled into the rock. Some plywood sheets covered a pit and a metal scaffold supported a cracked archway.

But superimposed over the ruins was another layer of reality—a spectral mirage of the palace as it must have appeared in its heyday. Whitewashed stucco walls lined with balconies rose three storeys high. Columned porticoes faced the central atrium, which had a huge fountain and bronze braziers. At a dozen banquet tables, ghouls laughed and ate and pushed one another around.

Jason had expected about a hundred spirits, but twice that many were milling about, chasing spectral serving girls, smashing plates and cups, and basically making a nuisance of themselves.

Most looked like Lares from Camp Jupiter—transparent purple wraiths in tunics and sandals. A few revellers had decayed bodies with grey flesh, matted clumps of hair and nasty wounds. Others seemed to be regular living mortals—some in togas, some in modern business suits or army fatigues. Jason even spotted one guy in a purple Camp Jupiter T-shirt and Roman legionnaire armor.

In the center of the atrium, a grey-skinned ghoul in a tattered Greek tunic paraded through the crowd, holding a marble bust over his head like a sports trophy. The other ghosts cheered and slapped him on the back. As the ghoul got closer, Jason noticed that he had an arrow in his throat, the feathered shaft sprouting from his Adam’s apple. Even more disturbing: the bust he was holding… was that Zeus?

It was hard to be sure. Most Greek god statues looked similar. But the bearded, glowering face reminded Jason very much of the giant Hippie Zeus in Cabin One at Camp Half-Blood.

“Our next offering!” the ghoul shouted, his voice buzzing from the arrow in his throat. “Let us feed the Earth Mother!”

The partiers yelled and pounded their cups. The ghoul made his way to the central fountain. The crowd parted, and Jason realized the fountain wasn’t filled with water. From the three-foot-tall pedestal, a geyser of sand spewed upward, arcing into an umbrella-shaped curtain of white particles before spilling into the circular basin.

The ghoul heaved the marble bust into the fountain. As soon as Zeus’s head passed through the shower of sand, the marble disintegrated like it was going through a wood chipper. The sand glittered gold, the color of ichor—godly blood. Then the entire mountain rumbled with a muffled BOOM, as if belching after a meal.

The dead partygoers roared with approval.

“Any more statues?” the ghoul shouted to the crowd. “No? Then I guess we’ll have to wait for some real gods to sacrifice!”

His comrades laughed and applauded as the ghoul plopped himself down at the nearest feast table.

Jason clenched his walking stick. “That guy just disintegrated my dad. Who does he think he is?”

“Dude, does it look like I know anything about Greek myths?” Alex asked.

“Didn’t Nico tell you who he is?”

Piper gave Jason a look. “It’s fine. My dad and I read a lot of the myths. That’s probably Antinous. In the Odyssey, he was the leader of the suitors. Odysseus shot him through the neck with that arrow.” She squinted at the others. “In fact, it looks like half of these are suitors. The others… I don’t know. They must be new.”

“Are they… ghosts?” Alex asked.

“Some probably came back to life before the… the Doors closed,” Jason said. “Some are spirits, and some are ghouls. The ones with the gaping wounds and the gray skin, like Antinous… I’ve fought their kind before.”

“Can they be killed?” Piper asked hopefully.

Jason remembered a quest he’d taken for Camp Jupiter years ago in San Bernardino. “Not easily. They’re strong and fast and intelligent. Also, they eat human flesh.”

“Fantastic,” Alex muttered.

“Just stick to the plan,” Piper said. “We split up, infiltrate, find out why they’re here—wish Nico told us that much—and if things go bad, we use the backup plan.”

Jason hated the backup plan.

Before they left the ship, Leo had given each of them an emergency flare the size of a birthday candle. Supposedly, if they tossed one in the air, it would shoot upward in a streak of white phosphorus, alerting the Argo II that the team was in trouble. At that point, Jason and the girls would have a few seconds to take cover before the ship’s catapults fired on their position, engulfing the palace in Greek fire and bursts of Celestial bronze shrapnel.

Not the safest plan, but at least Jason had the satisfaction of knowing that he could call an airstrike on this noisy mob of dead guys if the situation got dicey. Of course, that was assuming he and his friends could get away. And assuming Leo’s doomsday candles didn’t go off by accident—Leo’s inventions sometimes did that—in which case the weather would get much hotter, with a ninety percent chance of fiery apocalypse.

“Be careful down there,” he told Piper and Alex.

Piper crept around the left side of the ridge. Alex went right. Jason pulled himself up with his walking stick and hobbled towards the ruins. He flashed back to the last time he’d plunged into a mob of evil spirits, in the House of Hades. If it hadn’t been for Frank Zhang and Nico di Angelo…

Gods… Nico.

Over the past few days, every time Jason sacrificed a portion of a meal to Jupiter, he prayed to his dad to help Nico. That kid had gone through so much, and yet he had volunteered for the most difficult job: transporting the Athena Parthenos statue to Camp Half-Blood. If he didn’t succeed, the Roman and Greek demigods would slaughter each other. Then, no matter what happened in Greece, the Argo II would have no home to return to.

Of course, maybe it was less daunting of a task for Nico considering he had already done that journey once before and now he had his sister Bianca to help him out. But if there was anything Jason had learned over the past month, time was a fickle thing.

According to Nico, the number of casualties from what the Greeks called the Battle of Manhattan had been reduced, but not everyone that died the first time had been part of that reduced number of dead. Just weeks ago when Jason was fighting the giant twins Ephialtes and Otis, he’d gotten a vision of the future Nico had come from where he was speared by the Emperor Caligula. That had resulted in Jason almost dying by spear in that moment. And now… well, Percy and Annabeth were still in Tartarus with no guaranteed way out.

Time resisted change. Nico was able to handle it well. Percy and Annabeth probably could handle it too, but they were currently taking the fall for changing things. Magnus and Alex hadn’t quite reached the point in their own lives where it mattered the most that they change things, but even they were quite nonchalant about the whole time travel business.

Jason passed through the palace’s ghostly gateway. He realized just in time that a section of mosaic floor in front of him was an illusion covering a ten-foot-deep excavation pit. He sidestepped it and continued into the courtyard.

The two levels of reality reminded him of the Titan stronghold on Mount Othrys—a disorienting maze of black marble walls that randomly melted into shadow and solidified again. At least during that fight Jason had had a hundred legionnaires at his side. Now all he had was an old man’s body, a stick and two friends in slinky dresses.

Forty feet ahead of him, Piper moved through the crowd, smiling and filling wine glasses for the ghostly revellers. If she was afraid, she didn’t show it. So far the ghosts weren’t paying her any special attention. Hazel’s magic must have been working.

Over on the right, Alex collected empty plates and goblets. She wasn’t smiling. Jason hoped she lasted long enough for them to get all the information they needed.

He reached the edge of the crowd.

A raspy voice cried, “IROS!”

Antinous, the ghoul with the arrow in his throat, was staring right at him. “Is that you, you old beggar?”

Hazel’s magic did its work. Cold air rippled across Jason’s face as the Mist subtly altered his appearance, showing the suitors what they expected to see.

“That’s me!” Jason said. “Iros!”

A dozen more ghosts turned towards him. Some scowled and gripped the hilts of their glowing purple swords. Too late, Jason wondered if Iros was an enemy of theirs, but he’d already committed to the part.

He hobbled forward, putting on his best cranky old man expression. “Guess I’m late to the party. I hope you saved me some food?”

One of the ghosts sneered in disgust. “Ungrateful old panhandler. Should I kill him, Antinous?”

Jason’s neck muscles tightened.

Antinous regarded him for three counts, then chuckled. “I’m in a good mood today. Come, Iros, join me at my table.”

Jason didn’t have much choice. He sat across from Antinous while more ghosts crowded around, leering as if they expected to see a particularly vicious arm-wrestling contest.

Up close, Antinous’s eyes were solid yellow. His lips stretched paper-thin over wolfish teeth. At first, Jason thought the ghoul’s curly dark hair was disintegrating. Then he realized a steady stream of dirt was trickling from Antinous’s scalp, spilling over his shoulders. Clods of mud filled the old sword gashes in the ghoul’s grey skin. More dirt spilled from the base of the arrow wound in his throat.

The power of Gaea, Jason thought. The earth is holding this guy together.

Antinous slid a golden goblet and a platter of food across the table. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Iros. But I suppose even a beggar can sue for retribution. Drink. Eat.”

Thick red liquid sloshed in the goblet. On the plate sat a steaming brown lump of mystery meat. Jason’s stomach rebelled.

He recalled what Notus the South Wind had told him: A wind that blows aimlessly is no good to anyone.

Jason’s entire career at Camp Jupiter had been built on careful choices. He mediated between demigods, listened to all sides of an argument, found compromises. Even when he chafed against Roman traditions, he thought before he acted. He wasn’t impulsive.

Notus had warned him that such hesitation would kill him. Jason had to stop deliberating and take what he wanted.

If he was an ungrateful beggar, he had to act like one.

He ripped off a chunk of meat with his fingers and stuffed it in his mouth. He guzzled some red liquid, which thankfully tasted like watered-down wine, not blood or poison. Jason fought the urge to gag, but he didn’t keel over or explode.

“Yum!” He wiped his mouth. “Now tell me about this… what did you call it? Retribution? Where do I sign up?”

The ghosts laughed. One pushed his shoulder and Jason was alarmed that he could actually feel it. At Camp Jupiter, Lares had no physical substance. Apparently these spirits did—which meant more enemies who could beat, stab or decapitate him.

Antinous leaned forward. “Tell me, Iros, what do you have to offer? We don’t need you to run messages for us like in the old days. Certainly you aren’t a fighter. As I recall, Odysseus crushed your jaw and tossed you into the pigsty.”

Jason’s neurons fired. Iros… the old man who’d run messages for the suitors in exchange for scraps of food. Iros had been sort of like their pet homeless person. When Odysseus came home, disguised as a beggar, Iros thought the new guy was moving in on his territory. The two had started arguing…

“You made Iros—” Jason hesitated. “You made me fight Odysseus. You bet money on it. Even when Odysseus took off his shirt and you saw how muscular he was… you still made me fight him. You didn’t care if I lived or died!”

Antinous bared his pointed teeth. “Of course I didn’t care. I still don’t! But you’re here, so Gaea must have had a reason to allow you back into the mortal world. Tell me, why are you worthy of a share in our spoils?”

“What spoils?”

Antinous spread his hands. “The entire world, my friend. The first time we met here, we were only after Odysseus’s land, his money and his wife.”

“Especially his wife!” A bald ghost in ragged clothes elbowed Jason in the ribs. “That Penelope was a hot little honey cake!”

Jason caught a glimpse of Piper serving drinks at the next table. She discreetly put her finger to her mouth in a gag me gesture, then went back to flirting with dead guys.

Antinous sneered. “Eurymachus, you whining coward. You never stood a chance with Penelope. I remember you blubbering and pleading for your life with Odysseus, blaming everything on me!”

“Lot of good it did me.” Eurymachus lifted his tattered shirt, revealing an inch-wide hole in the middle of his spectral chest. “Odysseus shot me in the heart, just because I wanted to marry his wife!”

If Jason was recalling the story correctly, the suitors had been major bothers for Penelope for a long time. They trashed her home and had been trying to force her to marry one of them. Maybe death was too severe a punishment, but they certainly deserved something . If Jason was Penelope, he wouldn’t have minded Odysseus coming to teach those suitors a lesson.

“At any rate…” Antinous turned to Jason. “We have gathered now for a much bigger prize. Once Gaea destroys the gods, we will divide up the remnants of the mortal world!”

“Dibs on London!” yelled a ghoul at the next table.

“Montreal!” shouted another.

“Duluth!” yelled a third, which momentarily stopped the conversation as the other ghosts gave him confused looks.

The meat and wine turned to lead in Jason’s stomach. “What about the rest of these… guests? I count at least two hundred. Half of them are new to me.”

Antinous’s yellow eyes gleamed. “All of them are suitors for Gaea’s favor. All have claims and grievances against the gods or their pet heroes. That scoundrel over there is Hippias, former tyrant of Athens. He got deposed and sided with the Persians to attack his own countrymen. No morals whatsoever. He’d do anything for power.”

“Thank you!” called Hippias.

“That rogue with the turkey leg in his mouth,” Antinous continued, “that’s Hasdrubal of Carthage. He has a grudge to settle with Rome.”

“Mhhmm,” said the Carthaginian.

“And Michael Varus—”

Jason choked. “Who?”

Over by the sand fountain, the dark-haired guy in the purple T-shirt and legionnaire armor turned to face them. His outline was blurred, smokey and indistinct, so Jason guessed he was some form of spirit, but the legion tattoo on his forearm was clear enough: the letters SPQR, the double-faced head of the god Janus and six score marks for years of service. On his breastplate hung the badge of praetorship and the emblem of the Fifth Cohort.

Jason had never met Michael Varus. The infamous praetor had died in the 1980s. Still, Jason’s skin crawled when he met Varus’s gaze. Those sunken eyes seemed to bore right through Jason’s disguise.

Nico’s notes hadn’t mentioned anything about Varus, but suddenly Jason had a sinking feeling about how it was that he was stabbed in the back here.

Antinous waved dismissively. “He’s a Roman demigod. Lost his legion’s eagle in… Alaska, was it? Doesn’t matter. Gaea lets him hang around. He insists he has some insight into defeating Camp Jupiter. But you, Iros—you still haven’t answered my question. Why should you be welcome among us?”

Varus’s dead eyes had unnerved Jason. He could feel the Mist thinning around him, reacting to his uncertainty.

Suddenly Alex appeared at Antinous’s shoulder. “More wine, my lord? Oops!”

She spilled the contents of a silver pitcher down the back of Antinous’s neck.

“Gahh!” The ghoul arched his spine. “Foolish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?”

“Apologies, my lord,” Alex said. “May I bring you some moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping.”

“Begone!”

Alex caught Jason’s eye—a silent message of support—she made a sarcastic face, then she disappeared in the crowd.

The ghoul wiped himself off, giving Jason a chance to collect his thoughts.

He was Iros… former messenger of the suitors. Why would he be here? Why should they accept him?

He picked up the nearest steak knife and stabbed it into the table, making the ghosts around him jump.

“Why should you welcome me?” Jason growled. “Because I’m still running messages, you stupid wretches! I’ve just come from the House of Hades to see what you’re up to!”

That last part was true, and it seemed to give Antinous pause. The ghoul glared at him, wine still dripping from the arrow shaft in his throat. “You expect me to believe Gaea sent you—a beggar—to check up on us?”

Jason laughed. “I was among the last to leave Epirus before the Doors of Death were closed! I saw the chamber where Clytius stood guard under a domed ceiling tiled with tombstones. I walked the jewel-and-bone floors of the Necromanteion!”

That was also true. Around the table, ghosts shifted and muttered.

“So, Antinous…” Jason jabbed a finger at the ghoul. “Maybe you should explain to me why you’re worthy of Gaea’s favor. All I see is a crowd of lazy, dawdling dead folk enjoying themselves and not helping the war effort. What should I tell the Earth Mother?”

From the corner of his eye, Jason saw Piper flash him an approving smile. Then she returned her attention to a glowing purple Greek dude who was trying to make her sit on his lap.

Antinous wrapped his hand around the steak knife Jason had impaled in the table. He pulled it free and studied the blade. “If you come from Gaea, you must know we are here under orders. Porphyrion decreed it.” Antinous ran the knife blade across his palm. Instead of blood, dry dirt spilled from the cut. “You do know Porphyrion…?”

Jason struggled to keep his nausea under control. He remembered Porphyrion just fine from their battle at the Wolf House. “The giant king—green skin, forty feet tall, white eyes, hair braided with weapons. Of course I know him. He’s a lot more impressive than you.”

He decided not to mention that the last time he’d seen the giant king, Jason had blasted him in the head with lightning.

For once, Antinous looked speechless, but his bald ghost friend Eurymachus put an arm around Jason’s shoulders.

“Now, now, friend!” Eurymachus smelled like sour wine and burning electrical wires. His ghostly touch made Jason’s ribcage tingle. “I’m sure we didn’t mean to question your credentials! It’s just, well, if you’ve spoken with Porphyrion in Athens, you know why we’re here. I assure you, we’re doing exactly as he ordered!”

Jason tried to mask his surprise. Porphyrion in Athens.

Gaea had promised to pull up the gods by their roots. Chiron, Jason’s mentor at Camp Half-Blood, had assumed that meant that the giants would try to rouse the earth goddess at the original Mount Olympus. But now…

“The Acropolis,” Jason said. “The most ancient temples to the gods, in the middle of Athens. That’s where Gaea will wake.”

“Of course!” Eurymachus laughed. The wound in his chest made a popping sound, like a porpoise’s blowhole. “And, to get there, those meddlesome demigods will have to travel by sea, eh? They know it’s too dangerous to fly over land.”

“Which means they’ll have to pass this island,” Jason said.

Eurymachus nodded eagerly. He removed his arm from Jason’s shoulders and dipped his finger in his wine glass. “At that point, they’ll have to make a choice, eh?”

On the tabletop, he traced a coastline, red wine glowing unnaturally against the wood. He drew Greece like a misshapen hourglass—a large dangly blob for the northern mainland, then another blob below it, almost as large—the big chunk of land known as the Peloponnese. Cutting between them was a narrow line of sea—the Straits of Corinth.

Jason hardly needed a picture. He and the rest of the crew had spent the last day at sea studying maps.

“The most direct route,” Eurymachus said, “would be due east from here, across the Straits of Corinth. But if they try to go that way—”

“Enough,” Antinous snapped. “You have a loose tongue, Eurymachus.”

The ghost looked offended. “I wasn’t going to tell him everything! Just about the Cyclopes armies massed on either shore. And the raging storm spirits in the air. And those vicious sea monsters Keto sent to infest the waters. And of course if the ship got as far as Delphi—”

“Idiot!” Antinous lunged across the table and grabbed the ghost’s wrist. A thin crust of dirt spread from the ghoul’s hand, straight up Eurymachus’s spectral arm.

“No!” Eurymachus yelped. “Please! I—I only meant—”

The ghost screamed as the dirt covered his body like a shell, then cracked apart, leaving nothing but a pile of dust. Eurymachus was gone.

Antinous sat back and brushed off his hands. The other suitors at the table watched him in wary silence.

“Apologies, Iros.” The ghoul smiled coldly. “All you need to know is this—the ways to Athens are well guarded, just as we promised. The demigods would either have to risk the straits, which are impossible, or sail around the entire Peloponnese, which is hardly much safer. In any event, it’s unlikely they will survive long enough to make that choice. Once they reach Ithaca, we will know. We will stop them here and Gaea will see how valuable we are. You can take that message back to Athens.”

Jason’s heart hammered against his sternum. He’d never seen anything like the shell of earth that Antinous had summoned to destroy Eurymachus. He didn’t want to find out if that power worked on demigods.

Also, Antinous sounded confident that he could detect the Argo II. Hazel’s magic seemed to be obscuring the ship so far, but there was no telling how long that would last.

Jason had the intel they’d come for. Their goal was Athens. The safer route, or at least the not impossible route, was around the southern coast. Today was July 20. They only had twelve days before Gaea planned to wake, on August 1, the ancient Feast of Hope.

Jason and his friends needed to leave while they had the chance.

But something else bothered him—a cold sense of foreboding, as if he hadn’t heard the worst news yet.

Eurymachus had mentioned Delphi. Nico’s note talked about Delos. Jason would have liked to visit the site of Apollo’s Oracle, but…

He pushed aside his plate of cold food. “Sounds like everything is under control. For your sake, Antinous, I hope so. These demigods are resourceful. They closed the Doors of Death. We wouldn’t want them sneaking past you, perhaps getting help from Delphi.”

Antinous chuckled. “No risk of that. Delphi is no longer in Apollo’s control.”

Which would explain meeting Apollo in Delos.

“I—I see. And if the demigods sail the long way around the Peloponnese?”

“You worry too much. That journey is never safe for demigods, and it’s much too far. Besides, Victory runs rampant in Olympia. As long as that’s the case, there is no way the demigods can win this war.”

Victory runs rampant… Nico’s note said they would have to subdue Victory and bring her to the final battle. Jason figured that didn’t just mean they needed to bring their A-game.

He nodded. “Very well. I will report as much to King Porphyrion. Thank you for the, er, meal.”

Over at the fountain, Michael Varus called, “Wait.”

Jason bit back a curse. He’d been trying to ignore the dead praetor, but now Varus walked over, surrounded in a hazy white aura, his deep-set eyes like sinkholes. At his side hung an Imperial gold gladius.

“You must stay,” Varus said.

Antinous shot the ghost an irritated look. “What’s the problem, legionnaire? If Iros wants to leave, let him. He smells bad!”

The other ghosts laughed nervously. Across the courtyard, Piper shot Jason a worried glance. A little further away, Alex casually slipped a hand down to rest on the handles of her garrote wire.

Varus rested his hand on the pommel of his sword. Despite the heat, his breastplate was glazed with ice. “I lost my cohort twice in Alaska—once in life, once in death to a Graecus named Percy Jackson. Still I have come here to answer Gaea’s call. Do you know why?”

Jason swallowed. “Stubbornness?”

“This is a place of longing,” Varus said. “All of us are drawn here, sustained not only by Gaea’s power but also by our strongest desires. Eurymachus’s greed. Antinous’s cruelty.”

“You flatter me,” the ghoul muttered.

“Hasdrubal’s hatred,” Varus continued. “Hippias’s bitterness. My ambition. And you, Iros. What has drawn you here? What does a beggar most desire? Perhaps a home?”

An uncomfortable tingle started at the base of Jason’s skull—the same feeling he got when a huge electrical storm was about to break.

“I should be going,” he said. “Messages to carry.”

Michael Varus drew his sword. “My father is Janus, the god of two faces. I am used to seeing through masks and deceptions. Do you know, Iros, why we are so sure the demigods will not pass our island undetected?”

Jason silently ran through his repertoire of Latin cuss words. He tried to calculate how long it would take him to get out his emergency flare and fire it. Hopefully he could buy enough time for the girls to find shelter before this mob of dead guys slaughtered him.

He turned to Antinous. “Look, are you in charge here or not? Maybe you should muzzle your Roman.”

The ghoul took a deep breath. The arrow rattled in his throat. “Ah, but this might be entertaining. Go on, Varus.”

The dead praetor raised his sword. “Our desires reveal us. They show us for who we really are.”

A chill ran down Jason’s spine. He heard those words before.

“Someone has come for you, Jason Grace,” Varus continued.

Behind Varus, the crowd parted. The shimmering ghost of a woman drifted forward, and Jason felt as if his bones were turning to dust.

“My dearest,” said his mother’s ghost. “You have come home.”

Chapter Text

SOMEHOW HE KNEW HER. He recognized her dress—a flowery green-and-red wraparound, like the skirt of a Christmas tree. He recognized the colorful plastic bangles on her wrists that had dug into his back when she hugged him goodbye at the Wolf House. He recognized her hair, an over-teased corona of dyed blonde curls and her scent of lemons and aerosol. Her eyes were blue like Jason’s, but they gleamed with fractured light, like she’d just come out of a bunker after a nuclear war—hungrily searching for familiar details in a changed world.

“Dearest.” She held out her arms.

Jason’s vision tunnelled. The ghosts and ghouls no longer mattered.

His Mist disguise burned off. His posture straightened. His joints stopped aching. His walking stick turned back into an Imperial gold gladius.

The burning sensation didn’t stop. He felt as if layers of his life were being seared away—his months at Camp Half-Blood, his years at Camp Jupiter, his training with Lupa the wolf goddess. He was a scared and vulnerable two-year-old again. Even the scar on his lip, from when he’d tried to eat a stapler as a toddler, stung like a fresh wound.

“Mom?” he managed.

“Yes, dearest.” Her image flickered. “Come, embrace me.”

“You’re—you’re not real.”

“Of course she is real.” Michael Varus’s voice sounded far away. “Did you think Gaea would let such an important spirit languish in the Underworld? She is your mother, Beryl Grace, star of television, sweetheart to the king of Olympus, who rejected her not once but twice, in both his Greek and Roman aspects. She deserves justice as much as any of us.”

Jason’s heart felt wobbly. The suitors crowded around him, watching.

I’m their entertainment, Jason realized. The ghosts probably found this even more amusing than two beggars fighting to the death.

Piper’s voice cut through the buzzing in his head. “Jason, look at me.”

She stood twenty feet away, holding her ceramic amphora. Her smile was gone. Her gaze was fierce and commanding—impossible to ignore. “That isn’t your mother. Her voice is working some kind of magic on you—like charmspeak, but more dangerous. Can’t you sense it?”

“She’s right.” Alex climbed onto the nearest table. She kicked aside a platter, startling a dozen suitors. “Jason, that’s only a… a remnant or something. Whatever you call it.”

“A remnant!” His mother’s ghost sobbed. “Yes, look what I have been reduced to. It’s Jupiter’s fault. He abandoned us. He wouldn’t help me! I didn’t want to leave you in Sonoma, my dear, but Juno and Jupiter gave me no choice. They wouldn’t allow us to stay together. Why fight for them now? Join these suitors. Lead them. We can be a family again!”

Jason felt hundreds of eyes on him.

This has been the story of my life, he thought bitterly. Everyone had always watched him, expecting him to lead the way. From the moment he’d arrived at Camp Jupiter, the Roman demigods had treated him like a prince in waiting. Despite his attempts to alter his destiny—joining the worst cohort, trying to change the camp traditions, taking the least glamorous missions and befriending the least popular kids—he had been made praetor anyway. As a son of Jupiter, his future had been assured.

He remembered what Hercules had said to him at the Straits of Gibraltar: It’s not easy being a son of Zeus. Too much pressure. Eventually, it can make a guy snap.

Now Jason was here, drawn as taut as a bowstring.

“You left me,” he told his mother. “That wasn’t Jupiter or Juno. That was you.”

Beryl Grace stepped forward. The worry lines around her eyes, the pained tightness in her mouth reminded Jason of his sister, Thalia.

“Dearest, I told you I would come back. Those were my last words to you. Don’t you remember?”

Jason shivered. In the ruins of the Wolf House his mother had hugged him one last time. She had smiled, but her eyes were full of tears.

It’s all right, she had promised. But even as a little kid Jason had known it wasn’t all right. Wait here. I will be back for you, dearest. I will see you soon.

She hadn’t come back. Instead, Jason had wandered the ruins, crying and alone, calling for his mother and for Thalia—until the wolves came for him.

His mother’s unkept promise was at the core of who he was. He’d built his whole life around the irritation of her words, like the grain of sand at the center of a pearl.

People lie. Promises are broken.

That was why, as much as it chafed him, Jason followed rules. He kept his promises. He never wanted to abandon anyone the way he’d been abandoned and lied to.

Now his mom was back, erasing the one certainty Jason had about her—that she’d left him forever.

Across the table, Antinous raised his goblet. “So pleased to meet you, son of Jupiter. Listen to your mother. You have many grievances against the gods. Why not join us? I gather these two serving girls are your friends? We will spare them. You wish to have your mother remain in the world? We can do that. You wish to be a king—”

“No.” Jason’s mind was spinning. “No, I don’t belong with you.”

Michael Varus regarded him with cold eyes. “Are you so sure, my fellow praetor? Even if you defeat the giants and Gaea, would you return home like Odysseus did? Where is your home now? With the Greeks? With the Romans? No one will accept you. And, if you get back, who’s to say you won’t find ruins like this?”

“I guess I just have to hope I won’t,” Jason said. He scanned the palace courtyard. Without the illusory balconies and colonnades, there was nothing but a heap of rubble on a barren hilltop. Only the fountain seemed real, spewing forth sand like a reminder of Gaea’s limitless power.

“You were a legion officer,” he told Varus. “A leader of Rome.”

“So were you,” Varus said. “Loyalties change.”

“You think I belong with this crowd?” Jason asked. “A bunch of dead losers waiting for a free handout from Gaea, whining that the world owes them something?”

Around the courtyard, ghosts and ghouls rose to their feet and drew weapons.

“Beware!” Piper yelled at the crowd. “Every man in this palace is your enemy. Each one will stab you in the back at the first chance!”

Over the last few weeks, Piper’s charmspeak had become truly powerful. She spoke the truth, and the crowd believed her. They looked sideways at one another, hands clenching the hilts of their swords.

Jason’s mother stepped towards him. “Dearest, be sensible. Give up your quest. Your Argo II could never make the trip to Athens. Even if it did, there’s the matter of the Athena Parthenos.”

A tremor passed through him. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t feign ignorance, my dearest. Gaea knows about your friend Reyna and Nico and Bianca the children of Hades and the satyr Hedge. To kill them, the Earth Mother has sent her most dangerous son—the hunter who never rests. But you don’t have to die.”

The ghouls and ghosts closed in—two hundred of them facing Jason in anticipation, as if he might lead them in the national anthem.

The hunter who never rests.

Nico hadn’t mentioned anything about that. Jason wondered if he knew who this hunter was. He hoped so. Either way, he had to get out of here alive to at least warn them.

He looked at Alex and Piper. Both stood ready, waiting for his cue.

He forced himself to meet his mother’s eyes. She looked like the same woman who’d abandoned him in the Sonoma woods fourteen years ago. But Jason wasn’t a toddler any more. He was a battle veteran, a demigod who’d faced death countless times.

And what he saw in front of him wasn’t his mother—at least, not what his mother should be—caring, loving, selflessly protective.

A remnant, Alex had called her.

Michael Varus had told him that the spirits here were sustained by their strongest desires. The spirit of Beryl Grace literally glowed with need. Her eyes demanded Jason’s attention. Her arms reached out, desperate to possess him.

“What do you want?” he asked. “What brought you here?”

“I want life!” she cried. “Youth! Beauty! Your father could have made me immortal. He could have taken me to Olympus, but he abandoned me. You can set things right, Jason. You are my proud warrior!” Her lemony scent turned acrid, as if she were starting to burn.

Jason remembered something Thalia had told him. Their mother had become increasingly unstable, until her despair had driven her crazy. She had died in a car accident, the result of her driving while drunk.

The watered wine in Jason’s stomach churned. He decided that if he lived through this day he would never drink alcohol again.

“You’re a mania,” Jason decided, the word coming to him from his studies at Camp Jupiter long ago. “A spirit of insanity. That’s what you’ve been reduced to.”

“I am all that remains,” Beryl Grace agreed. Her image flickered through a spectrum of colors. “Embrace me, son. I am all you have left.”

The memory of the South Wind spoke in his mind: You can’t choose your parentage. But you can choose your legacy.

Jason felt like he was being reassembled, one layer at a time. His heartbeat steadied. The chill left his bones. His skin warmed in the afternoon sun.

“No,” he croaked. He glanced at Alex and Piper. “My loyalties haven’t changed. My family has just expanded. I’m a child of Greece and Rome.” He looked back at his mother for the last time. “I’m no child of yours.” He made the ancient sign of warding off evil—three fingers thrust out from the heart—and the ghost of Beryl Grace disappeared with a soft hiss, like a sigh of relief.

The ghoul Antinous tossed aside his goblet. He studied Jason with a look of lazy disgust. “Well, then,” he said, “I suppose we’ll just kill you.”

All around Jason, the enemies closed in.

Chapter Text

THE WAY JASON SAW IT, he just had to make sure Michael Varus didn’t kill him.

Naturally, he decided to go straight for Varus. He’d vaporize who he could on the way to the Roman. Unfortunately, the crowd of enemies made it hard to reach his target.

Jason slashed his gladius in a wide arc, vaporizing the nearest suitors, then he vaulted onto the table and jumped right over Antinous’s head. In midair he willed his blade to extend into a javelin—a trick he’d never tried with this sword—but somehow he knew it would work.

He landed on his feet holding a six-foot-long pilum. As Antinous turned to face him, Jason thrust the Imperial gold point through the ghoul’s chest.

Antinous looked down incredulously. “You—”

“Enjoy the Fields of Punishment.” Jason yanked out his pilum and Antinous crumbled to dirt.

Jason kept fighting, spinning his javelin—slicing through ghosts, knocking ghouls off their feet.

Across the courtyard, suitors were discovering the effectiveness of Alex’s enchanted garrote wire. She had foregone the pretty Greek serving girl look to return to her natural look. She fought like a demon, cutting down—and in half—any suitor that faced her.

Over by the sand fountain, Piper had also drawn her sword—the jagged bronze blade she’d taken from Zethes the Boread. She stabbed and parried with her right hand, occasionally shooting tomatoes from the cornucopia in her left, while yelling at the suitors, “Save yourselves! I’m too dangerous!”

That must have been exactly what they wanted to hear, because her opponents kept running away, only to freeze in confusion a few yards downhill, then charge back into the fight.

The Greek tyrant Hippias lunged at Piper, his dagger raised, but Piper blasted him point-blank in the chest with a lovely pot roast. He tumbled backwards into the fountain and screamed as he disintegrated.

An arrow whistled towards Jason’s face. He blew it aside with a gust of wind, then cut through a line of sword-wielding ghouls and noticed a dozen suitors regrouping by the fountain to charge Alex. He lifted his javelin to the sky. A bolt of lightning ricocheted off the point and blasted the ghosts to ions, leaving a smoking crater where the sand fountain had been.

Over the last few months, Jason had fought many battles, but he’d forgotten what it was like to feel good in combat. Of course he was still afraid, but a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

For the first time since waking up in Arizona with his memories erased, Jason felt whole. He knew who he was. He had chosen his family, and it had nothing to do with Beryl Grace or even Jupiter. His family included all the demigods who fought at his side, Roman and Greek, new friends and old. He wasn’t going to let anyone break his family apart.

He summoned the winds and flung three ghouls off the side of the hill like rag dolls. He skewered a fourth, then willed his javelin to shrink back to a sword and hacked through another group of spirits.

Soon, no more enemies faced him. The remaining ghosts began to disappear on their own. Annabeth cut down Hasdrubal the Carthaginian, and Jason made the mistake of sheathing his sword.

Pain flared in his lower back—so sharp and cold he thought Khione the snow goddess had touched him.

Next to his ear, Michael Varus snarled, “Born a Roman, die a Roman.”

Jason blinked out of the vision. He turned around as Alex cut down Hasdrubal the Carthaginian, and brought up his sword to meet Michael Varus’s.

“Born a Roman, die a Roman,” Michael Varus snarled as he took another swing at Jason.

Jason deflected it. “No thanks,” he said. “I tried that once. Didn’t like it much.”

“Sorry!” Alex appeared behind Varus with a psychotic grin on her face. She pulled her garrote tight across the dead Roman’s neck. “No one is allowed to kill Jason today. That includes attempted murder, manslaughter, aiding and abetting, accessory to murder, and of course,” she pulled the wire even tighter, “first degree murder.” She yanked the wire back and Michael Varus lost his head. Literally.

An empty legionnaire’s helmet clattered to the ground. Dust settled around it.

“I’m alive,” Jason said.

Alex shot him a look. “What? You thought I’d let you die? I told you I’d protect you, didn’t I?”

“Jason!” Piper hurried over. “Oh gods, are you okay?”

“Fine,” Jason said, shrugging it off. “Glad to be alive. Thank you. Alex.”

Alex looped her garrote back around her waist. “No problem.” Her face softened. “Sorry. About your mom. I guess we’ve all had screwed up childhoods in one way or another.”

Jason tried not to close his eyes. Every time he did, he saw his mom’s spirit disintegrating.

“It wasn’t her,” he said. “At least, no part of her I could save. There was no other choice.”

“Maybe not, but… you handled it well,” Piper said.

Alex peered around the ruins. “Uh, not to change the subject or anything, but Nico’s note said something about a marriage bed.”

Piper wrinkled her nose. “What? He wants someone to get married?”

Jason choked. “What?”

“Relax,” Alex rolled her eyes. “I don’t think that’s what Nico meant, but if it is… I ain’t marrying you.”

Jason tried really hard not to look in Piper’s direction. “Okay, so… marriage bed. And something Antinous said. Reyna, Nico, Bianca, and Coach Hedge are in danger. We need to warn them.”

“Nico probably knows,” Alex frowned. “But you’re right. We should warn them anyway. Once we get back to the ship that is. Now, what about this bed?”

Jason wandered towards the ruins. “In The Odyssey , Penelope held out for Odysseus’s return for twenty years. When he finally returned, she tested him to make sure it was really him. She asked him about their marriage bed. It was special—sacred. If there was any place you could talk to Juno… this would be it. Nico wants us to talk to Juno.” He took a deep breath and called, “Juno!”

Silence.

Then, about sixty feet away, the stone floor cracked. Branches muscled through the earth, growing in fast motion until a full-sized olive tree shaded the courtyard. Under a canopy of grey-green leaves stood a dark-haired woman in a white dress, a leopard-skin cape draped over her shoulders. Her staff was topped with a white lotus flower. Her expression was cool and regal.

“My heroes,” said the goddess.

“Hera,” Piper said.

“Juno,” Jason corrected.

“Whatever,” Alex grumbled. “Why do we need to talk to her anyway?”

Juno’s dark eyes glittered dangerously. “Alex Fierro. I should have killed you and Magnus Chase long ago.”

“But you didn’t,” Alex blurted.

“Whoa, no,” Piper said, raising her hands. “No one is killing anyone right now. Why would you want to kill either of them?”

Juno sniffed. “Other than the fact that they’re Norse, you mean? I warned Percy Jackson that you two were dangerous variables. I warned him not to let you get further involved. Yet here you are. And now you’ve become two of the Seven.”

“We… we really are part of the Seven?” Alex asked quietly.

“Of course,” Juno snorted. “There are seven of you after all. Seven half-bloods shall answer the call. Funny thing about prophecies. There’s never one concrete interpretation. It could have been six Greeks and one Roman. Or three Romans and four Greeks. Or even three Romans, two Greeks, and two Norse. We were always going to end up here, but your actions dictate who ends up here.” She glared at Alex. “Now instead of Percy Jackson and… Annabeth Chase among the Seven on their way to Athens, it’s you.”

She took a breath. “Fortunately for you, I am limited by time. I cannot stay long. I am grateful that you called upon me,” she said to Jason. “I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion… my Greek and Roman natures warring against each other. Worse, I’ve been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that I caused this war with Gaea.”

She gestured around the ruins. “Fortunately, this place is sacred to me. By clearing away those ghosts, you have purified it and given me a moment of clarity. I will be able to speak with you—if only briefly.”

“Can you advise us, then?” Jason asked. “Tell us what to do?”

“Sail around the Peloponnese,” said the goddess. “As you suspect, that is the only possible route. On your way, seek out the goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift between Greek and Roman can never be healed.”

Apparently that’s what Nico meant by subdue Victory.

“You mean Nike?” Piper asked. “How is she out of control?”

Thunder boomed overhead, shaking the hill.

“Explaining would take too long,” Juno said. “I must flee before Jupiter finds me. Once I leave, I will not be able to help you again.”

Jason bit back a retort: When did you help me the first time?

“What else should we know?” he asked.

“As you heard, the giants have gathered in Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on your journey, but I am not the only Olympian who is out of favor with Jupiter. The twins have also incurred his wrath.”

“Artemis and Apollo?” Piper asked. “Why?”

Juno’s image began to fade. “If you reach the island of Delos, they might be prepared to help you. They are desperate enough to try anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed. If you do not…”

The goddess disappeared, leaving Jason, Piper, and Alex alone.

“Least she could have done was teleport us back to the ship,” Alex grumbled. “After saying she wished she killed me sooner.”

Piper bit her lip. “Let’s head back. I think we have a lot to plan out.”

Chapter Text

DIVE-BOMBING A VOLCANO was not on Reyna’s bucket list.

Her first view of southern Italy was from five thousand feet in the air. To the west, along the crescent of the Gulf of Naples, the lights of sleeping cities glittered in the predawn gloom. A thousand feet below her, a half-mile-wide caldera yawned at the top of a mountain, white steam pluming from the center.

Reyna’s disorientation took a moment to subside. Shadow-travel left her groggy and nauseous, as if she’d been dragged from the cold waters of the frigidarium into the sauna at a Roman bathhouse.

Then she realized she was suspended in midair. Gravity took hold, and she began to fall.

“Nico!” she yelled.

“Pan’s pipes!” cursed Gleeson Hedge.

“Holy—” whatever Bianca said was drowned out by either the wind whistling in their ears or someone’s screaming. Reyna really hoped that wasn’t her.

“Whaaaaa!” Nico flailed, almost slipping out of Reyna’s grip. She held tight and grabbed Coach Hedge by the shirt collar as he started to tumble away. If they got separated now, they were dead.

They plummeted towards the volcano as their largest piece of luggage—the forty-foot-tall Athena Parthenos—trailed after them, leashed to a harness on Nico’s back like a very ineffective parachute.

“That’s Vesuvius below us!” Reyna shouted over the wind. “Nico, Bianca, teleport us out of here!”

Nico’s eyes were wild and unfocused. His dark feathery hair whipped around his face like a raven shot out of the sky. “I—I can’t! No strength!”

“Then I’ll do it!” Bianca shouted. She closed her eyes and her face strained.

Coach Hedge bleated. “You look constipated! Zap us out of here or we’re gonna get flattened into an Athena Parthenos omelette!”

“I’m sorry, I can’t!” Bianca cried. “Not by myself! I need Nico to help me!”

Reyna tried to think. She could accept death if she had to, but if the Athena Parthenos was destroyed their quest would fail. Reyna could not accept that.

“Bianca, Nico, shadow-travel,” she ordered. “I’ll lend you my strength.”

Bianca stared at her blankly. “How—”

“Do it!”

Reyna tightened her grip on Nico’s hand. The torch-and-sword symbol of Bellona on her forearm grew painfully hot, as if it were being seared into her skin for the first time.

Nico gasped. Color returned to his face. Just before they hit the volcano’s steam plume, they slipped into shadows.

The air turned frigid. The sound of the wind was replaced by a cacophony of voices whispering in a thousand languages. Reyna’s insides felt like a giant piragua—cold syrup trickled over crushed ice—her favorite treat from her childhood in Viejo San Juan.

She wondered why that memory would surface now, when she was on the verge of death. Then her vision cleared. Her feet rested on solid ground.

The eastern sky had begun to lighten. For a moment Reyna thought she was back in New Rome. Doric columns lined an atrium the size of a baseball diamond. In front of her, a bronze faun stood in the middle of a sunken fountain decorated with mosaic tile.

Crepe myrtles and rose bushes bloomed in a nearby garden. Palm trees and pines stretched skyward. Cobblestone paths led from the courtyard in several directions—straight, level roads of good Roman construction, edging low stone houses with colonnaded porches.

Reyna turned. Behind her, the Athena Parthenos stood intact and upright, dominating the courtyard like a ridiculously oversized lawn ornament. The little bronze faun in the fountain had both his arms raised, facing Athena, so he seemed to be cowering in fear of the new arrival.

On the horizon, Mount Vesuvius loomed—a dark, humpbacked shape now several miles away. Thick pillars of steam curled from the crest.

“We’re in Pompeii,” Reyna realized.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Nico said, and he immediately collapsed.

“Nico!” Bianca yelped.

“Whoa!” Coach Hedge caught him before he hit the ground. The satyr propped him against Athena’s feet and loosened the harness that attached Nico to the statue.

Reyna’s own knees buckled. She’d expected some backlash; it happened every time she shared her strength. But she hadn’t anticipated so much raw anguish from Nico di Angelo. She sat down heavily, just managing to stay conscious.

Gods of Rome. If this was only a portion of Nico’s pain… how could he bear it?

She tried to steady her breathing while Coach Hedge rummaged through his camping supplies. Around Nico’s boots, the stones cracked. Dark seams radiated outwards like a shotgun blast of ink, as if Nico’s body were trying to expel all the shadows he’d travelled through. Yesterday had been worse: an entire meadow withering, skeletons rising from the earth. Reyna wasn’t anxious for that to happen again.

“Drink something.” She offered him a canteen of unicorn draught—powdered horn mixed with sanctified water from the Little Tiber. They’d found it worked on Nico better than nectar, helping to cleanse the fatigue and darkness from his system with less danger of spontaneous combustion.

Nico gulped it down. He still looked terrible. His skin had a bluish tint. His cheeks were sunken. Hanging at his side, the scepter of Diocletian glowed angry purple, like a radioactive bruise.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to let that happen.”

Bianca looked at Reyna. “How did you do that? You… you healed Nico? Temporarily?”

Reyna turned her forearm. The tattoo still burned like hot wax: the symbol of Bellona, SPQR, with four lines for her years of service. “I don’t like to talk about it,” she said, “but it’s a power from my mother. I can impart strength to others.”

Coach Hedge looked up from his rucksack. “Seriously? Why haven’t you hooked me up, Roman girl? I want super-muscles!”

Reyna frowned. “It doesn’t work like that, Coach. I can only do it in life-and-death situations, and it’s more useful in large groups. When I command troops, I can share whatever attributes I have—strength, courage, endurance—multiplied by the size of my forces.”

“That’s useful,” Bianca noted.

Reyna didn’t say anything to that. She preferred not to speak of her power for exactly this reason. She didn’t want the demigods under her command to think she was controlling them, or that she’d become a leader because she had some special magic. She could only share the qualities she already possessed, and she couldn’t help anyone who wasn’t worthy of being a hero.

Coach Hedge grunted. “Too bad. Super-muscles would be nice.” He went back to sorting through his pack, which seemed to hold a bottomless supply of cooking utensils, survivalist gear and random sports equipment.

Nico took another swig of unicorn draught. His eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but Reyna could tell he was fighting to stay awake.

“You stumbled just now,” he noted. “When you use your power… you get some sort of, um, feedback from me, don't you?”

“It’s not mind-reading,” she said. “Not even an empathy link. Just… a temporary wave of exhaustion. Primal emotions. Your pain washes over me. I take on some of your burden.”

Nico frowned. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Nico gave her a wry look. “I’ve been to Tartarus. I can’t imagine that it was pleasant to experience any of that. Plus…” he trailed off, twisting the silver skull ring on his finger, the same way Reyna did with her own silver ring when she was thinking.

Bianca placed a hand on Nico’s shoulder.

“Plus, ah, I guess you could say I have a lot of baggage.” Nico looked down. “Sorry.”

Reyna couldn’t imagine that was all. A lot of baggage certainly could be true, but the pain she felt from Nico… She wouldn’t quite generalize that. She’d felt more pain from Nico in their brief connection than she had from her entire legion during the battle against the giant Polybotes. It had drained her worse than the last time she’d used her power, to sustain her pegasus Scipio during their journey across the Atlantic.

She tried to push away that memory. Her brave winged friend dying from poison, his muzzle in her lap, looking at her trustingly as she raised her dagger to end his misery… Gods, no. She couldn’t dwell on that or it would break her.

But the pain she’d felt from Nico was sharper.

“You should rest,” she told him and Bianca. “After two jumps in a row, even with a little help… you’re lucky to be alive. We’ll need you to be ready again by nightfall.”

She felt bad asking them to do something so impossible. Unfortunately, she’d had a lot of practice pushing demigods beyond their limits.

Nico clenched his jaw and nodded. “We’re stuck here now.” He scanned the ruins. “But Pompeii is the last place I would’ve chosen to land. This place is full of lemures.”

“Lemurs?” Coach Hedge seemed to be making some sort of snare out of kite string, a tennis racket and a hunting knife. “You mean those cute fuzzy critters—”

“No.” Nico sounded annoyed, like he got that question a lot.

“Lemures are unfriendly ghosts,” Bianca explained. “All Roman cities have them, but Pompeii—”

“The whole city was wiped out,’ Reyna remembered. “In 79 C.E., Vesuvius erupted and covered the town in ash.”

Nico nodded. “A tragedy like that creates a lot of angry spirits.”

Coach Hedge eyed the distant volcano. “It’s steaming. Is that a bad sign?”

“I—I’m not sure.” Nico picked at a hole in the knee of his black jeans. “Mountain gods, the ourae, can sense children of Hades. It’s possible that’s why we were pulled off course. The spirit of Vesuvius might have been intentionally trying to kill us. But I doubt the mountain can hurt us this far away. Working up to a full eruption would take too long. The immediate threat is all around us.”

The back of Reyna’s neck tingled.

She’d grown used to Lares, the friendly spirits at Camp Jupiter, but even they made her uneasy. They didn’t have a good understanding of personal space. Sometimes they’d walk right through her, leaving her with vertigo. Being in Pompeii gave Reyna the same feeling, as if the whole city was one big ghost that had swallowed her whole.

She couldn’t tell her friends how much she feared ghosts, or why she feared them. The whole reason she and her sister had run away from San Juan all those years ago… that secret had to stay buried.

“Can you keep them at bay?” she asked.

Nico turned up his palms. “I’ve sent out that message: Stay away. But once I’m asleep it won’t do us much good.” He looked at his sister. “I suppose we could sleep in shifts, but…”

“No,” Reyna said. “You both need to rest.”

Bianca nodded. “She’s right. Hopefully your message is enough to keep them away.”

Coach Hedge patted his tennis-racket-knife contraption. “Don’t worry, kids. I’m going to line the perimeter with alarms and snares. Plus, I’ll be watching over you the whole time with my baseball bat.”

Nico had a sleepy smile on his face. “Okay. But… go easy. We don’t want another Albania.”

“No,” Reyna agreed.

Their first shadow-travel experience together two days ago had been a total fiasco, possibly the most humiliating episode in Reyna’s long career. Perhaps someday, if they survived, they would look back on it and laugh, but not now. The four of them had agreed never to speak of it. What happened in Albania would stay in Albania.

Coach Hedge looked hurt. “Fine, whatever. Just rest, kiddos. We got you covered.”

“M’kay,” Nico mumbled. He managed to take off his aviator jacket and wad it into a pillow before he keeled over and began to snore.

Reyna marvelled at how peaceful he looked. The worry lines vanished. His face became strangely angelic… like his surname, di Angelo. She could almost believe he was a regular fourteen-year-old boy, not a son of Hades who had been pulled out of time from the 1930s and forced to endure more tragedy and danger than most demigods would in a lifetime.

When Nico had arrived at Camp Jupiter, Reyna didn’t trust him. She’d sensed there was more to his story than being an ambassador from his father, Pluto. Now, of course, she knew the truth. He was a Greek demigod—the first person in living memory, perhaps the first ever, to go back and forth between the Roman and Greek camps without telling either group that the other existed.

Strangely, that made Reyna trust Nico more.

Sure, he wasn’t Roman. He’d never hunted with Lupa or endured the brutal legion training. But Nico had proven himself in other ways. He’d kept the camps’ secrets for the best of reasons, because he feared a war. He had plunged into Tartarus alone, voluntarily, to find the Doors of Death. He’d been captured and imprisoned by giants. He had led the crew of the Argo II into the House of Hades… and now he had accepted yet another terrible quest: risking himself to haul the Athena Parthenos back to Camp Half-Blood.

The pace of the journey was maddeningly slow. They could only shadow-travel a few hundred miles each night, resting during the day to let Nico and Bianca recover, but even that required more stamina from the children of Hades than Reyna would have thought possible.

“He’s been through a lot,” Bianca said, interrupting Reyna’s thoughts. She gave her sleeping brother a sad smile. “I’m partially at fault for that.”

“You died,” Reyna recalled.

Bianca got a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah. I… I left him to join the Hunters of Artemis. He was only eleven.” Her lips twitched. “Only… That was three years ago. We had to go on a quest. Well, Nico had to go, but I wouldn’t let him go without me. If I hadn’t pushed myself onto that quest or if I hadn’t joined the Hunters… Nico would have returned to Camp Half-Blood alive and I would have been waiting there for him.” She looked at Reyna. “But he’s my brother. I would gladly give my life a hundred times to save him. This quest… it could kill him. That’s why I had to come with you. Nico has a lot to live for right now. Friends…” She trailed off.

“You have no one?”

“I have Nico, and a couple friends,” Bianca said. “You met Allegra, then there’s her cousin Ethan. But I should be dead. The dead should stay dead. I suppose us children of Hades have a more… blase perspective of death. I do not seek death out, but if I die on this quest… then I die. I’ll miss Nico, and he’ll miss me, but we can still talk. And we know we will see each other in the end.”

“So you’re okay with just leaving him again?” Reyna asked.

Bianca shook her head. “No. But if that’s what happens, then we both can respect it. This quest is dangerous enough to result in death and I’d rather it not be my brother. Of course, I’d rather stay with him, but…” she shrugged. “We’re demigods. When do we ever get what we want?” She yawned and shrugged off her own jacket, using it like a pillow like Nico had done.

Reyna had never been a touchy-feely person, but she had the strangest desire to drape her cloak over the di Angelos’ shoulders and tuck them in. She mentally chided herself. They were her comrades, not her little brother and sister. Bianca might have appreciated the gesture, but Reyna didn’t think Nico would.

“Hey.” Coach Hedge interrupted her thoughts. “You need sleep, too. I’ll take first watch and cook some grub. Those ghosts shouldn’t be too dangerous now that the sun’s coming up.”

Reyna hadn’t noticed how light it was getting. Pink and turquoise clouds striped the eastern horizon. The little bronze faun cast a shadow across the dry fountain.

“I’ve read about this place," Reyna realized. "It’s one of the best-preserved villas in Pompeii. They call it the House of the Faun.”

Gleeson glanced at the statue with distaste. “Yeah, well, today it’s the House of the Satyr.”

Reyna managed a smile. She was starting to appreciate the differences between satyrs and fauns. If she ever fell asleep with a faun on duty, she’d wake up with her supplies stolen, a moustache drawn on her face and the faun long gone. Coach Hedge was different—mostly good different, though he did have an unhealthy obsession with martial arts and baseball bats.

“All right,” she agreed. “You take first watch. I’ll put Aurum and Argentum on guard duty with you.”

Hedge looked like he wanted to protest, but Reyna whistled sharply. The metallic greyhounds materialized from the ruins, racing towards her from different directions. Even after so many years, Reyna had no idea where they came from or where they went when she dismissed them, but seeing them lifted her spirits.

Hedge cleared his throat. “You sure those aren’t Dalmatians? They look like Dalmatians.”

“They’re greyhounds, Coach.” Reyna had no idea why Hedge feared Dalmatians, but she was too tired to ask right now. “Aurum, Argentum, guard us while I sleep. Obey Gleeson Hedge.”

The dogs circled the courtyard, keeping their distance from the Athena Parthenos, which radiated hostility towards everything Roman.

Reyna herself was only now getting used to it, and she was pretty sure the statue did not appreciate being relocated in the middle of an ancient Roman city.

She lay down and pulled her purple cloak over herself. She took one last look at the bronze faun cowering before the sunrise and the Athena Parthenos.

Then she closed her eyes and slipped into dreams.

Chapter Text

MOST OF THE TIME, Reyna could control her nightmares.

She had trained her mind to start all her dreams in her favorite place—the Garden of Bacchus on the tallest hill in New Rome. She felt safe and tranquil there. When visions invaded her sleep—as they always did with demigods—she could contain them by imagining they were reflections in the garden’s fountain. This allowed her to sleep peacefully and avoid waking up the next morning in a cold sweat.

Tonight, however, she wasn’t so lucky.

The dream began well enough. She stood in the garden on a warm afternoon, the arbour heavy with blooming honeysuckle. In the central fountain, the little statue of Bacchus spouted water into the basin. The golden domes and red-tiled roofs of New Rome spread out below her. Half a mile west rose the fortifications of Camp Jupiter. Beyond that, the Little Tiber curved gently around the valley, tracing the edge of the Berkeley Hills, hazy and golden in the summer light.

Reyna held a cup of hot chocolate, her favorite drink.

She exhaled contentedly. This place was worth defending—for herself, for her friends, for all demigods. Her four years at Camp Jupiter hadn’t been easy, but they’d been the best time of Reyna’s life.

Suddenly the horizon darkened. Reyna thought it might be a storm. Then she realized a tidal wave of dark loam was rolling across the hills, turning the skin of the earth inside out, leaving nothing behind.

Reyna watched in horror as the earthen tide reached the edge of the valley. The god Terminus sustained a magical barrier around the camp, but it slowed the destruction for only a moment. Purple light sprayed upward like shattered glass, and the tide poured through, shredding trees, destroying roads, wiping the Little Tiber off the map.

It’s a vision, Reyna thought. I can control this.

She tried to change the dream. She imagined that the destruction was only a reflection in the fountain, a harmless video image, but the nightmare continued in full vivid scope.

The earth swallowed the Field of Mars, obliterating every trace of forts and trenches from the war games. The city’s aqueduct collapsed like a line of children’s blocks. Camp Jupiter itself fell—watchtowers crashing down, walls and barracks disintegrating. The screams of demigods were silenced, and the earth moved on.

A sob built in Reyna’s throat. The gleaming shrines and monuments on Temple Hill crumbled. The coliseum and the hippodrome were swept away. The tide of loam reached the Pomerian line and roared straight into the city. Families ran through the forum. Children cried in terror. The Senate House imploded. Villas and gardens disappeared like crops under a tiller. The tide churned uphill towards the Garden of Bacchus—the last remnant of Reyna’s world.

You left them helpless, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. A woman’s voice issued from the black terrain. Your camp will be destroyed. Your quest is a fool’s errand. My hunter comes for you.

Reyna tore herself from the garden railing. She ran to the fountain of Bacchus and gripped the rim of the basin, staring desperately into the water. She willed the nightmare to become a harmless reflection.

THUNK.

The basin broke in half, split by an arrow the size of a rake. Reyna stared in shock at the raven-feather fletching, the shaft painted red, yellow and black like a coral snake, the Stygian iron point embedded in her gut.

She looked up through a haze of pain. At the edge of the garden, a dark figure approached—the silhouette of a man whose eyes shone like miniature headlamps, blinding Reyna. She heard the scrape of iron against leather as he drew another arrow from his quiver.

Then her dream changed.

The garden and the hunter vanished, along with the arrow in Reyna’s stomach.

She found herself in an abandoned vineyard. Stretched out before her, acres of dead grapevines hung in rows on wooden lattices, like gnarled miniature skeletons. At the far end of the fields stood a cedar-shingled farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Beyond that, the land dropped off into the sea.

Reyna recognized this place: the Goldsmith Winery on the north shore of Long Island. Her scouting parties had secured it as a forward base for the legion’s assault on Camp Half-Blood. She had ordered the bulk of the legion to remain in Manhattan until she told them otherwise, but obviously Octavian had disobeyed her.

The entire Twelfth Legion was camped in the northernmost field. They’d dug in with their usual military precision—ten-foot-deep trenches and spiked earthen walls around the perimeter, a watchtower on each corner armed with ballistae. Inside, tents were arranged in neat rows of white and red. The standards of all five cohorts curled in the wind.

The sight of the legion should have lifted Reyna’s spirits. It was a small force, barely two hundred demigods, but they were well trained and well organized. If Julius Caesar came back from the dead, he would’ve had no trouble recognizing Reyna’s troops as worthy soldiers of Rome.

But they had no business being so close to Camp Half-Blood. Octavian’s insubordination made Reyna clench her fists. He was intentionally provoking the Greeks, hoping for battle.

Her dream vision zoomed to the porch of the farmhouse, where Octavian sat in a gilded chair that looked suspiciously like a throne. Along with his senatorial purple-lined toga, his centurion badge and his augur’s knife, he had adopted a new honor: a white cloth mantle over his head, which marked him as Pontifex Maximus, high priest to the gods.

Reyna wanted to strangle him. No demigod in living memory had taken the title Pontifex Maximus. By doing so, Octavian was elevating himself almost to the level of emperor.

To his right, reports and maps were strewn across a low table. To his left, a marble altar was heaped with fruit and gold offerings, no doubt for the gods. But to Reyna it looked like an altar to Octavian himself.

At his side, the legion’s eagle bearer, Jacob, stood at attention, sweating in his lion-skin cloak as he held the staff with the golden eagle standard of the Twelfth.

Octavian was in the midst of an audience. At the base of the stairs knelt a boy in jeans and a rumpled hoodie. Octavian’s fellow centurion of the First Cohort, Mike Kahale, stood to one side with his arms crossed, glowering with obvious displeasure.

“Well, now.” Octavian scanned a piece of parchment. “I see here you are a legacy, a descendant of Orcus.”

The boy in the hoodie looked up, and Reyna caught her breath. Bryce Lawrence. She recognized his mop of brown hair, his broken nose, his cruel green eyes and smug, twisted smile.

“Yes, my lord,” Bryce said.

“Oh, I’m not a lord.” Octavian’s eyes crinkled. “Just a centurion, an augur and a humble priest doing his best to serve the gods. I understand you were dismissed from the legion for… ah, disciplinary problems.”

Reyna tried to shout, but she couldn’t make a sound. Octavian knew perfectly well why Bryce had been kicked out. Much like his godly forefather, Orcus, the underworld god of punishment, Bryce was completely remorseless. The little psychopath had survived his trials with Lupa just fine, but as soon as he arrived at Camp Jupiter he had proved to be untrainable. He had tried to set a cat on fire for fun. He had stabbed a horse and sent it stampeding through the Forum. He was even suspected of sabotaging a siege engine and getting his own centurion killed during the war games.

If Reyna had been able to prove it, Bryce’s punishment would’ve been death. But because the evidence was circumstantial, and because Bryce’s family was rich and powerful with lots of influence in New Rome, he’d got away with the lighter sentence of banishment.

“Yes, Pontifex,” Bryce said slowly. “But, if I may, those charges were unproven. I am a loyal Roman.”

Mike Kahale looked like he was doing his best not to throw up.

Octavian smiled. “I believe in second chances. You’ve responded to my call for recruits. You have the proper credentials and letters of recommendation. Do you pledge to follow my orders and serve the legion?”

“Absolutely,” said Bryce.

“Then you are reinstated in probatio,” Octavian said, “until you have proven yourself in combat.”

He gestured at Mike, who reached in his pouch and fished out a lead probatio tablet on a leather cord. He hung the cord around Bryce’s neck.

“Report to the Fifth Cohort,” Octavian said. “They could use some new blood, some fresh perspective. If your centurion Dakota has any problem with that, tell him to talk to me.”

Bryce smiled like he’d just been handed a sharp knife. “My pleasure.”

“And, Bryce.” Octavian’s face looked almost ghoulish under his white mantle—his eyes too piercing, his cheeks too gaunt, his lips too thin and colorless. “However much money, power and prestige the Lawrence family carries in the legion, remember that my family carries more. I am personally sponsoring you, as I am sponsoring all the other new recruits. Follow my orders, and you’ll advance quickly. Soon I may have a little job for you—a chance to prove your worth. But cross me and I will not be as lenient as Reyna. Do you understand?”

Bryce’s smile faded. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he changed his mind. He nodded.

“Good,” Octavian said. “Also, get a haircut. You look like one of those Graecus scum. Dismissed.”

After Bryce left, Mike Kahale shook his head. “That makes two dozen now.”

“It’s good news, my friend,” Octavian assured him. “We need the extra manpower.”

“Murderers. Thieves. Traitors.”

“Loyal demigods,” Octavian said, “who owe their position to me.”

Mike scowled. Until Reyna had met him, she’d never understood why people called biceps guns, but Mike’s arms were as thick as bazooka barrels. He had broad features, a toasted-almond complexion, onyx hair and proud dark eyes, like the old Hawaiian kings. She wasn’t sure how a high-school linebacker from Hilo had wound up with Venus for a mom, but no one in the legion gave him any grief about that—not once they saw him crush rocks with his bare hands.

Reyna had always liked Mike Kahale. Unfortunately, Mike was very loyal to his sponsor. And his sponsor was Octavian.

The self-appointed pontifex rose and stretched. “Don’t worry, old friend. Our siege teams have the Greek camp surrounded. Our eagles have complete air superiority. The Greeks aren’t going anywhere until we’re ready to strike. In eleven days, all my forces will be in place. My little surprises will be prepared. On August first, the Feast of Spes, the Greek camp will fall.”

“But Reyna said—”

“We’ve been through this.” Octavian slid his iron dagger from his belt and threw it at the table, where it impaled a map of Camp Half-Blood. “Reyna has forfeited her position. She went to the ancient lands, which is against the law.”

“But the Earth Mother—”

“—has been stirring because of the war between the Greek and Roman camps, yes? The gods are incapacitated, yes? And how do we solve that problem, Mike? We eliminate the division. We wipe out the Greeks. We return the gods to their proper manifestation as Roman. Once the gods are restored to their full power, Gaea will not dare rise. She will sink back into her slumber. We demigods will be strong and unified, as we were in the old days of the empire. Besides, the first day of August is most auspicious—the month named after my ancestor Augustus. And you know how he united the Romans?”

“He seized power and became emperor,” Mike rumbled.

Octavian waved aside the comment. “Nonsense. He saved Rome by becoming First Citizen. He wanted peace and prosperity, not power! Believe me, Mike, I intend to follow his example. I will save New Rome and, when I do, I will remember my friends.”

Mike shifted his considerable bulk. “You sound certain. Has your gift of prophecy—”

Octavian held up his hand in warning. He glanced at Jacob the eagle bearer, who was still standing at attention behind him. “Jacob, you’re dismissed. Why don’t you go polish the eagle or something?”

Jacob’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Yes, Augur. I mean Centurion! I mean Pontifex! I mean—”

“Go.”

“I’ll go.”

Once Jacob had hobbled off, Octavian’s face clouded. “Mike, I told you not to speak of my, ah, problem. But to answer your question: no, there still seems to be some interference with Apollo’s usual gift to me.” He glanced resentfully at a pile of mutilated stuffed animals heaped in the corner of the porch. “I can’t see the future. Perhaps that false Oracle at Camp Half-Blood is working some sort of witchcraft. But as I’ve told you before, in strictest confidence, Apollo spoke to me clearly last year at Camp Jupiter! He personally blessed my endeavours. He promised I would be remembered as the saviour of the Romans.”

Octavian spread his arms, revealing his harp tattoo, the symbol of his godly forefather. Seven slash marks indicated his years of service—more than any presiding officer, including Reyna.

“Never fear, Mike. We will crush the Greeks. We will stop Gaea and her minions. Then we’ll take that harpy the Greeks have been harboring—the one who memorized our Sibylline Books—and we’ll force her to give us the knowledge of our ancestors. Once that happens, I’m sure Apollo will restore my gift of prophecy. Camp Jupiter will be more powerful than ever. We will rule the future.”

Mike’s scowl didn’t lessen, but he raised his fist in salute. “You’re the boss.”

“Yes, I am.” Octavian pulled his dagger from the table. “Now, go check on those two dwarfs you captured. I want them properly terrified before I interrogate them again and dispatch them to Tartarus.”

The dream faded.

“Hey, wake up.” Reyna’s eyes fluttered open. Gleeson Hedge was leaning over her, shaking her shoulder. “We got trouble.”

His grave tone got her blood moving.

“What is it?” She struggled to sit up. “Ghosts? Monsters?”

Hedge scowled. “Worse. Tourists.”

Chapter Text

THE HORDES HAD ARRIVED.

In groups of twenty or thirty, tourists swarmed through the ruins, milling around the villas, wandering the cobblestone paths, gawking at the colorful frescoes and mosaics.

Reyna worried how the tourists would react to a forty-foot-tall statue of Athena in the middle of the courtyard, but the Mist must have been working overtime to obscure the mortals’ vision. Each time a group approached, they’d stop at the edge of the courtyard and stare in disappointment at the statue. One British tour guide announced, “Ah, scaffolding. It appears this area is undergoing restoration. Pity. Let’s move along.”

And off they went.

At least the statue didn’t rumble, “DIE, UNBELIEVERS!” and zap the mortals to dust. Reyna had once dealt with a statue of the goddess Diana like that. It hadn’t been her most relaxing day.

She recalled what Nico had told her about the Athena Parthenos: its magical aura both attracted monsters and kept them at bay. Sure enough, every so often, out of the corner of her eye, Reyna would spot glowing white spirits in Roman clothes flitting among the ruins, frowning at the statue in consternation.

“Those lemures are everywhere,” Gleeson muttered. “Keeping their distance for now—but come nightfall we’d better be ready to move. Ghosts are always worse at night.”

Reyna didn’t need to be reminded of that.

She watched as an elderly couple in matching pastel shirts and Bermuda shorts tottered through a nearby garden. She was glad they didn’t come any closer. Around the camp, Coach Hedge had rigged all sorts of trip wires, snares and oversized mouse traps that wouldn’t stop any self-respecting monster, but they might very well bring down a senior citizen.

Despite the warm morning, Reyna shivered from her dreams. She couldn’t decide which was more terrifying—the impending destruction of New Rome, or the way Octavian was poisoning the legion from the inside.

Your quest is a fool’s errand.

Camp Jupiter needed her. The Twelfth Legion needed her. Yet Reyna was halfway across the world, watching a satyr toast blueberry waffles on a stick over an open fire.

She wanted to talk about her nightmares, but she decided to wait until Nico and Bianca woke up. She wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to describe them twice.

Nico kept snoring. Reyna had discovered that once he fell asleep it took a lot to wake him up. The coach could do a goat-hoof tap dance around Nico’s head and the son of Hades wouldn’t even budge. Bianca was a much lighter sleeper than her brother, but Reyna suspected that was only due to the constant strain of shadow traveling.

“Here.” Hedge offered her a plate of flame-grilled waffles with fresh sliced kiwi and pineapple. It all looked surprisingly good.

“Where are you getting these supplies?” Reyna marvelled.

“Hey, I’m a satyr. We’re very efficient packers.” He took a bite of waffle. “We also know how to live off the land!”

As Reyna ate, Coach Hedge took out a notepad and started to write. When he was finished, he folded the paper into an airplane and tossed it into the air. A breeze carried it away.

“A letter to your wife?” Reyna guessed.

Under the rim of his baseball cap, Hedge’s eyes were bloodshot. “Mellie’s a cloud nymph. Air spirits send stuff by paper airplane all the time. Hopefully her cousins will keep the letter going across the ocean until it finds her. It’s not as fast as an Iris-message, but, well, I want our kid to have some record of me, in case, you know…”

“We’ll get you home,” Reyna promised. “You will see your kid.”

Hedge clenched his jaw and said nothing.

Reyna was pretty good at getting people to talk. She considered it essential to know her comrades-in-arms. But she’d had a tough time convincing Hedge to open up about his wife, Mellie, who was close to giving birth back at Camp Half-Blood. Reyna had trouble imagining the coach as a father, but she understood what it was like to grow up without parents. She wasn’t going to let that happen to Coach Hedge’s child.

“Yeah, well…” The satyr bit off another piece of waffle, including the stick he’d toasted it on. “I just wish we could move faster.” He chin-pointed to Nico. “I don’t see how this kid is going to last one more jump even if his sister helps him out. He’s taking on too much of the burden of each jump. I don’t think Bianca can even shadow travel herself one jump. How many more will it take us to get home?”

Reyna shared his concern. In only eleven days, the giants planned to awaken Gaea. Octavian planned to attack Camp Half-Blood on the same day. That couldn’t be a coincidence. Perhaps Gaea was whispering in Octavian’s ear, influencing his decisions subconsciously. Or worse: Octavian was actively in league with the earth goddess. Reyna didn’t want to believe that even Octavian would knowingly betray the legion, but after what she’d seen in her dreams she couldn’t be sure.

She finished her meal as a group of Chinese tourists shuffled past the courtyard. Reyna had been awake for less than an hour and already she was restless to get moving.

“Thanks for breakfast, Coach.” She got to her feet and stretched. “If you’ll excuse me, where there are tourists, there are bathrooms. I need to use the little praetors’ room.”

“Go ahead.” The coach jangled the whistle that hung around his neck. “If anything happens, I’ll blow.”

Reyna left Aurum and Argentum on guard duty and strolled through the crowds of mortals until she found a visitors’ center with restrooms. She did her best to clean up, but she found it ironic that she was in an actual Roman city and couldn’t enjoy a nice hot Roman bath. She had to settle for paper towels, a broken soap dispenser and an asthmatic hand dryer. And the toilets… the less said about those, the better.

As she was walking back, she passed a small museum with a window display. Behind the glass lay a row of plaster figures, all frozen in the throes of death. A young girl was curled in a fetal position. A woman lay twisted in agony, her mouth open to scream, her arms thrown overhead. A man knelt with his head bowed, as if accepting the inevitable.

Reyna stared with a mixture of horror and revulsion. She’d read about such figures, but she’d never seen them in person. After the eruption of Vesuvius, volcanic ash had buried the city and hardened to rock around dying Pompeians. Their bodies had disintegrated, leaving behind human-shaped pockets of air. Early archaeologists had poured plaster into the holes and made these casts—creepy replicas of Ancient Romans.

Reyna found it disturbing, wrong, that these people’s dying moments were on display like clothes in a shop window, yet she couldn’t look away.

All her life she’d dreamed about coming to Italy. She had assumed it would never happen. The ancient lands were forbidden to modern demigods; the area was simply too dangerous. Nevertheless, she wanted to follow in the footsteps of Aeneas, son of Aphrodite, the first demigod to settle here after the Trojan War. She wanted to see the original Tiber River, where Lupa the wolf goddess saved Romulus and Remus.

But Pompeii? Reyna had never wanted to come here. The site of Rome’s most infamous disaster, an entire city swallowed by the earth… After Reyna’s nightmares, that hit a little too close to home.

So far in the ancient lands, she’d only seen one place on her wish list: Diocletian’s Palace in Split, and even that visit had hardly gone the way she’d imagined. Reyna used to dream about going there with Jason to admire their favorite emperor’s home. She pictured romantic walks with him through the old city, sunset picnics on the parapets.

Instead, Reyna had arrived in Croatia not with him but with a dozen angry wind spirits on her tail. She’d fought her way through ghosts in the palace. On her way out, gryphons had attacked, mortally wounding her pegasus. The closest she’d got to Jason was finding a note he’d left for her under a bust of Diocletian in the basement.

She would only have painful memories of that place.

Don’t be bitter, she chided herself. Aeneas suffered, too. So did Romulus, Diocletian and all the rest. Romans don’t complain about hardship.

Staring at the plaster death figures in the museum window, she wondered what they had been thinking as they curled up to die in the ashes. Probably not: Well, we’re Romans! We shouldn’t complain!

A gust of wind blew through the ruins, making a hollow moan. Sunlight flashed against the window, momentarily blinding her.

With a start, Reyna looked up. The sun was directly overhead. How could it be noon already?

She’d left the House of the Faun just after breakfast. She’d only been standing here a few minutes… hadn’t she?

She tore herself from the museum display and hurried off, trying to shake the feeling that the dead Pompeians were whispering behind her back.

The rest of the afternoon was unnervingly quiet.

Reyna kept watch while Coach Hedge slept, but there was nothing much to guard against. Tourists came and went. Random harpies and wind spirits flew by overhead. Reyna’s dogs would snarl in warning, but the monsters didn’t stop to fight.

Ghosts skulked around the edges of the courtyard, apparently intimidated by the Athena Parthenos. Reyna couldn’t blame them. The longer the statue stood in Pompeii, the more anger it seemed to radiate, making Reyna’s skin itchy and her nerves raw.

Bianca woke up in time to eat a quick dinner with Reyna. They talked about random things for a while.

Finally, just after sunset, Nico woke. He wolfed down an avocado and cheese sandwich. Reyna hated to ruin his dinner, but they didn’t have much time. As the daylight faded, the ghosts started moving closer and in greater numbers.

She told him about her dreams: the earth swallowing Camp Jupiter, Octavian closing in on Camp Half-Blood and the hunter with the glowing eyes who had shot Reyna in the gut.

Nico stared at his empty plate. He seemed to be weighing his words. “I have a few ideas. None of them are good. He may be a giant.”

Coach Hedge grunted. “I’d rather not find out. I say we keep moving.”

Nico’s mouth twitched. “You are suggesting we avoid a fight?”

“Listen, cupcake, I like a smackdown as much as the next guy, but we’ve got enough monsters to worry about without some bounty-hunter giant tracking us across the world. I don’t like the sound of those huge arrows.”

“For once,” Reyna said, “I agree with Hedge.”

Nico unfolded his aviator jacket. He put his finger through an arrow hole in the sleeve.

“Are you sure you don’t know?” Bianca asked him. “What about Thalia? She’s with the Hunters. Maybe they know something.”

Nico pursed his lips. “I’d rather not tell her about this. She might do something… rash.”

“Thalia Grace?” Reyna asked. “Jason’s sister?”

Nico nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.”

“You say she’s with the Hunters of… Artemis? Why shouldn’t we consult them? If they might know something that can help us, it’s better than us not knowing anything at all.”

Reyna had never met Thalia. In fact, she’d only recently learned Jason had a sister. According to Jason, she was a Greek demigod, a daughter of Zeus. And according to the di Angelos, she was the leader of the Hunters of Artemis. The whole idea made Reyna’s head spin.

“Look, I’ll try to contact her,” Nico said. “But Thalia is… she doesn’t always think before acting. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

Reyna didn’t really understand how Thalia could get hurt by providing information, but she decided not to press it.

“I should also try to contact my sister, Hylla,” she said. “Camp Jupiter is lightly defended. If Gaea attacks there, perhaps the Amazons could help.”

Coach Hedge scowled. “No offence, but, uh… what’s an army of Amazons going to do against a wave of dirt?”

Reyna fought down a sense of dread. She suspected Hedge was right. Against what she’d seen in her dreams, the only defence would be to prevent the giants from waking Gaea. For that, she had to put her trust in the crew of the Argo II .

The daylight was almost gone. Around the courtyard, ghosts were forming a mob—hundreds of glowing Romans carrying spectral clubs or stones.

“We can talk more after the next jump,” Reyna decided. “Right now, we need to get out of here.”

“Yeah.” Nico stood. “I think we can reach Spain this time if we’re lucky. Just let me—”

The mob of ghosts vanished, like a mass of birthday candles blown out in a single breath.

Reyna’s hand went to her dagger. “Where did they go?”

Nico cursed under his breath. Bianca sent him a sharp look. His eyes flitted across the ruins. His expression was not reassuring. “I—I’m not sure, but I don’t think it’s a good sign. Keep a lookout. I’ll get harnessed up. Should only take a few seconds.”

Gleeson Hedge rose to his hooves. “A few seconds you do not have.”

Reyna’s stomach curled into a tiny ball.

Hedge spoke with a woman’s voice—the same one Reyna had heard in her nightmare.

She drew her knife.

Hedge turned towards her, his face expressionless. His eyes were solid black. “Be glad, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. You will die as a Roman. You will join the ghosts of Pompeii.”

The ground rumbled. All around the courtyard, spirals of ash swirled into the air. They solidified into crude human figures—earthen shells like the ones in the museum. They stared at Reyna, their eyes ragged holes in faces of rock.

“The earth will swallow you,” Hedge said in the voice of Gaea. “Just as it swallowed them.”

Chapter Text

“THERE ARE TOO MANY OF THEM.” Reyna wondered bitterly how many times she’d said that in her demigod career.

She should have a badge made and wear it around to save time. When she died, the words would probably be written on her tombstone: There were too many of them.

Her greyhounds stood on either side of her, growling at the earthen shells. Reyna counted at least twenty, closing in from every direction.

Coach Hedge continued to speak in a very womanly voice: “The dead always outnumber the living. These spirits have waited centuries, unable to express their anger. Now I have given them bodies of earth.”

One earthen ghost stepped forward. It moved slowly, but it’s footfall was so heavy it cracked the ancient tiles.

“Nico?” Reyna called.

“I can’t control them,” he said, frantically untangling his harness. “Something about the rock shells, I guess. I need a couple of seconds to concentrate on making the shadow-jump. Otherwise I might teleport us into another volcano.”

Reyna cursed under her breath. There was no way she and Bianca could fight off so many by themselves while Nico prepared their escape, especially with Coach Hedge out of commission. “Use the scepter,” she said. “Get me some zombies.”

“It will not help,” Coach Hedge intoned. “Stand aside, Praetor. Let the ghosts of Pompeii destroy this Greek statue. A true Roman would not resist.”

The earthen ghosts shuffled forward. Through their mouth holes, they made hollow whistling noises ̧ like someone blowing across empty soda bottles. One stepped on the coach’s dagger-tennis-racket trap and smashed it to pieces.

From his belt, Nico pulled the scepter of Diocletian. “I don’t know how long they’ll last.”

“You shall perish,” said the coach. “You shall never—”

Reyna smacked him on the head with the pommel of her knife. The satyr crumpled.

“Sorry, Coach,” she muttered. “That was getting tiresome. Nico—zombies! Then concentrate on getting us out of here. Bianca, get Coach to the statue.”

Nico raised his scepter and the ground trembled.

The earthen ghosts chose that moment to charge. Aurum leaped at the nearest one and literally bit the creature’s head off with his metal fangs. The rock shell toppled backwards and shattered. Argentum was not so lucky. He sprang at another ghost, which swung its heavy arm and bashed the greyhound in his face. Argentum went flying. He staggered to his feet. His head was twisted forty-five degrees to the right. One of his ruby eyes was missing.

Anger hammered in Reyna’s chest like a hot spike. She’d already lost her pegasus. She was not going to lose her dogs, too. She slashed her knife through the ghost’s chest, then drew her gladius. Strictly speaking, fighting with two blades wasn’t very Roman, but Reyna had spent time with pirates. She’d picked up more than a few tricks.

The earthen shells crumbled easily, but they hit like sledgehammers. Reyna didn’t understand how, but she knew she couldn’t afford to take even one blow. Unlike Argentum, she wouldn’t survive getting her head knocked sideways.

“Nico!” She ducked between two earthen ghosts, allowing them to smash each other’s heads in. “Any time now!”

The ground split open down the center of the courtyard. Dozens of skeletal soldiers clawed their way to the surface. Their shields looked like giant corroded pennies. Their blades were more rust than metal. But Reyna had never been so relieved to see reinforcements.

“Legion!” she shouted. “Ad aciem!”

The zombies responded, pushing through the earthen ghosts to form a battle line. Some fell, crushed by stone fists. Others managed to close ranks and raise their shields.

Behind her, Nico cursed.

Reyna risked a backward glance. The scepter of Diocletian was smoking in Nico’s hands.

“It’s fighting me!” he yelled. “I don’t think it likes summoning Romans to fight other Romans!”

Reyna knew that Ancient Romans had spent at least half their time fighting each other, but she decided not to bring that up. “Just secure Coach Hedge. Get ready to shadow-travel! I’ll buy you some—”

Nico yelped. The scepter of Diocletian exploded into pieces. Nico didn’t look hurt, but he stared at Reyna in shock. “I—I don’t know what happened. You’ve got a few minutes, tops, before your zombies disappear.”

“Get strapped in!” Bianca shouted to Nico. She had Coach Hedge draped over her shoulder. “Hurry!”

“Legion!” Reyna shouted. “Orbem formate! Gladium signe!”

The zombies circled the Athena Parthenos, their swords ready for close-quarters fighting. Bianca dragged the unconscious Coach Hedge over to Nico, who was furiously strapping himself into the harness. Argentum and Aurum stood guard, lunging at any earth ghosts who broke through the line.

Reyna fought shoulder to shoulder with the dead legionnaires, sending her strength into their ranks. She knew it wouldn’t be enough. The earthen ghosts fell easily, but more kept rising from the ground in swirls of ash. Each time their stone fists connected, another zombie went down.

Meanwhile, the Athena Parthenos towered over the battle—regal, haughty and unconcerned.

A little help would be nice, Reyna thought. Maybe a destructo-ray? Or some good old-fashioned smiting.

The statue did nothing except radiate hatred, which seemed directed equally at Reyna and the attacking ghosts.

You want to lug me to Long Island? the statue seemed to say. Good luck with that, Roman scum.

Reyna’s destiny: to die defending a passive-aggressive goddess.

She kept fighting, extending more of her will into the undead troops. In return, they bombarded her with their despair and resentment.

You fight for nothing, the zombie legionnaires whispered in her mind. The empire is gone.

“For Rome!” Reyna cried hoarsely. She slashed her gladius through one earthen ghost and stabbed her dagger in another’s chest. “Twelfth Legion Fulminata!”

All around her, zombies fell. Some were crushed in battle. Others disintegrated on their own as the residual power of Diocletian’s scepter finally failed.

The earthen ghosts closed in—a sea of misshapen faces with hollow eyes.

“Reyna, now!” Nico yelled. “We’re leaving!”

She glanced back. Nico had harnessed himself to the Athena Parthenos. He held the unconscious Gleeson Hedge in his arms like a damsel in distress. Bianca had her bow drawn and she was firing arrows to cover Reyna’s retreat. Aurum and Argentum had disappeared—perhaps too badly damaged to continue fighting.

Reyna stumbled.

A rock fist gave her a glancing blow to the ribcage, and her side erupted in pain. Her head swam. She tried to breathe, but it was like inhaling knives.

“Reyna!” Nico shouted again.

The Athena Parthenos flickered, about to disappear.

An earthen ghost swung at Reyna’s head. She managed to dodge, but the pain in her ribs almost made her black out. A burst of purple light erupted from the earthen ghost’s direction. Probably Bianca’s Stygian iron arrows.

Give up, said the voices in her head. The legacy of Rome is dead and buried, just like Pompeii.

“No,” she murmured to herself. “Not while I’m still alive.”

Nico stretched out his hand as he slipped into the shadows. With the last of her strength, Reyna leaped towards him.

Chapter Text

LEO DIDN’T WANT TO COME OUT OF THE WALL.

He had three more braces to attach, and nobody else was skinny enough to fit in the crawl space. (One of the many advantages of being scrawny.)

Wedged between the layers of the hull with the plumbing and wiring, Leo could be alone with his thoughts. When he got frustrated, which happened about every five seconds, he could hit stuff with his mallet and the other crew members would figure he was working, not throwing a tantrum.

One problem with his sanctuary: he only fitted up to his waist. His butt and legs were still on view to the general public, which made it hard for him to hide.

“Leo!” Piper’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “We need you.”

The Celestial bronze O-ring slipped out of Leo’s pliers and slid into the depths of the crawl space.

Leo sighed. “Talk to the pants, Piper! ’Cause the hands are busy!”

“I am not talking to the pants. Meeting in the mess hall. We’re almost at Olympia.”

“Yeah, fine. I’ll be there in a sec.”

“What are you doing, anyway? You’ve been poking around inside the hull for days.”

Leo swept his flashlight across the Celestial bronze plates and pistons he’d been installing slowly but surely. “Routine maintenance.”

Silence. Piper was a little too good at knowing when he was lying. “Leo—”

“Hey, while you’re out there, do me a favor. I got this itch right below my—”

“Fine, I’m leaving!”

Leo allowed himself a couple more minutes to fasten the brace. His work wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. But he was making progress.

Of course, he’d laid the groundwork for his secret project when he first built the Argo II , but he hadn’t told anyone about it. He had barely been honest with himself about what he was doing.

Nothing lasts forever, his dad once told him. Not even the best machines.

Yeah, okay, maybe that was true. But Hephaestus had also said, Everything can be reused. Leo intended to test that theory.

It was a dangerous risk. If he failed, it would crush him. Not just emotionally. It would physically crush him.

The thought made him claustrophobic.

He wriggled out of the crawl space and went back into his cabin.

Well… technically it was his cabin, but he didn’t sleep there. The mattress was littered with wires, nails and the guts of several disassembled bronze machines. His three massive rolling tool cabinets—Chico, Harpo and Groucho—took up most of the room. Dozens of power tools hung on the walls. The worktable was piled with photocopied blueprints from On Spheres, the forgotten Archimedes text Leo had liberated from an underground workshop in Rome.

Even if he wanted to sleep in his cabin, it would’ve been too cramped and dangerous. He preferred to bed down in the engine room, where the constant hum of machinery helped him fall asleep.

Besides, ever since his time on the island of Ogygia, he had become fond of camping out. A bedroll on the floor was all he needed.

His cabin was only for storage… and for working on his most difficult projects.

He pulled his keys from his tool belt. He didn’t really have time, but he unlocked Groucho’s middle drawer and stared at the two precious objects inside: a bronze astrolabe he’d picked up in Bologna, and a fist-sized chunk of crystal from Ogygia. Leo hadn’t figured out how to put the two things together yet, and it was driving him crazy.

He’d been hoping to get some answers when they visited Ithaca. After all, it was the home of Odysseus, the dude who had constructed the astrolabe. But, judging from what Jason had said, those ruins hadn’t held any answers for him—just a bunch of ill-tempered ghouls and ghosts.

Anyway, Odysseus never got the astrolabe to work. He hadn’t had a crystal to use as a homing beacon. Leo did. He would have to succeed where the cleverest demigod of all time had failed.

Just Leo’s luck. A super-hot immortal girl was waiting for him on Ogygia, but he couldn’t figure out how to wire a stupid chunk of rock into the three-thousand-year-old navigation device. Some problems even duct tape couldn’t solve.

Leo closed the drawer and locked it.

His eyes drifted to the bulletin board above his worktable, where two pictures hung side by side. The first was the old crayon drawing he’d made when he was seven years old—a diagram of a flying ship he’d seen in his dreams. The second was a charcoal sketch Hazel had recently made for him.

Hazel Levesque… that girl was something. As soon as Leo rejoined the crew in Malta, she’d known right away that Leo was hurting inside. The first chance she got, after all that mess in the House of Hades, she’d marched into Leo’s cabin and said, “Spill.”

Hazel was a good listener. Leo told her the whole story. Later that evening, Hazel came back with her sketch pad and her charcoal pencils. “Describe her,” she insisted. “Every detail.”

It felt a little weird helping Hazel make a portrait of Calypso—as if he were talking to a police artist: Yes, officer, that’s the girl who stole my heart! Sounded like a freaking country song.

But describing Calypso had been easy. Leo couldn’t close his eyes without seeing her.

Now her likeness gazed back at him from the bulletin board—her almond-shaped eyes, her pouty lips, her long straight hair swept over one shoulder of her sleeveless dress. He could almost smell her cinnamon fragrance. Her knitted brow and the downward turn of her mouth seemed to say, Leo Valdez, you are so full of it.

Dang, he loved that woman!

Leo had pinned her portrait next to the drawing of the Argo II to remind himself that sometimes visions do come true. As a little kid, he’d dreamed about a flying ship. Eventually he built it. Now he would build a way to get back to Calypso.

The hum of the ship’s engines changed to a lower pitch. Over the cabin loudspeaker, Festus’s voice creaked and squeaked.

“Yeah, thanks, buddy,” Leo said. “On my way.”

The ship was descending, which meant Leo’s projects would have to wait.

“Sit tight, Sunshine,” he told Calypso’s picture. “I’ll get back to you, just like I promised.”

Leo could imagine her response: I am not waiting for you, Leo Valdez. I am not in love with you. And I certainly don’t believe your foolish promises!

The thought made him smile. He slipped his keys back into his tool belt and headed for the mess hall.

The other six demigods were eating breakfast.

Once upon a time, Leo would have worried about all of them being together below-decks with nobody at the helm, but ever since Piper had permanently woken up Festus with her charmspeak—a feat Leo still did not understand—the dragon figurehead had been more than capable of running the Argo II by himself. Festus could navigate, check the radar, make a blueberry smoothie, and spew white-hot jets of fire at invaders—simultaneously—without even blowing a circuit.

Besides, they had Buford the Wonder Table as backup.

After Coach Hedge left on his shadow-travel expedition, Leo had decided that his three-legged table could do just as good a job as their ‘adult chaperone’. He had laminated Buford’s tabletop with a magic scroll that projected a pint-sized holographic simulation of Coach Hedge. Mini-Hedge would stomp around on Buford’s top, randomly saying things like “CUT THAT OUT!” “I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” and the ever-popular “PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!”

Today, Buford was manning the helm. If Festus’s flames didn’t scare away the monsters, Buford’s holographic Hedge definitely would.

Leo stood in the doorway of the mess hall, taking in the scene around the dining table. It wasn’t often he got to see all his friends together.

Not all your friends, a small voice reminded him. Percy and Annabeth aren’t here. And Nico’s off who knows where.

Leo didn’t really like that voice very much.

To the left, Frank and Hazel used their cereal bowls to flatten out a map of Greece. They looked over it, their heads close together. Every once in a while Frank’s hand would cover Hazel’s, just sweet and natural like they were an old married couple, and Hazel didn’t even look flustered, which was real progress for a girl from the 1940s. Until recently, if somebody said gosh darn, she would nearly faint.

At the head of the table, Jason sat conversing with Magnus, Alex, and Piper. Piper was seated to Jason’s right (Leo’s left) next to Frank and Hazel while Magnus and Alex were on Jason’s left.

“All I can tell you is what Nico left me,” Magnus was saying.

“It’s not like he was even here,” Alex added. “Whatever he knows, he knows from talking to Jason or Percy and Annabeth. I don’t know what it was like after the war, but I’m pretty sure no one was lining up to talk about the quest in detail. Percy and Annabeth left Camp Half-Blood at the end of August to go to school, Jason left at the beginning of October to go to school. Nico stayed at Camp. Then, of course, Jason died in March and Nico never saw him again. Percy and Annabeth didn’t go back to Camp that summer because they were headed to New Rome University. Then we all ended up back here.”

Leo loved his friends. He’d do anything for them. But as he looked at the six of them—two couples, and Jason and Piper’s weird dancing—he thought about the warning from Nemesis, the revenge goddess: You will not find a place among your brethren. You will always be the seventh wheel.

He was starting to think Nemesis was right. Assuming Leo lived long enough, assuming his crazy secret plan worked, his destiny was with somebody else, on an island that no man ever found twice.

But for now the best he could do was to follow his old rule: Keep moving. Don’t get bogged down. Don’t think about the bad stuff. Smile and joke even when you don’t feel like it. Especially when you don’t feel like it.

“What’s up, guys?” He strolled into the mess hall. “Aw, yes to brownies!”

He grabbed the last one—from a special sea-salt recipe they’d picked up from Aphros the fish centaur at the bottom of the Atlantic.

The intercom crackled. Buford’s Mini-Hedge yelled over the speakers, “PUT SOME CLOTHES ON!”

Everyone jumped. Hazel ended up five feet away from Frank. Magnus fell out of his chair. Jason drew his gladius, and Frank turned into a bulldog.

Piper glared at Leo. “I thought you were getting rid of that stupid hologram.”

“Hey, Buford’s just saying good morning. He loves his hologram! Besides, we all miss the coach. And Frank makes a cute bulldog.”

Frank morphed back into a burly, grumpy Chinese Canadian dude. “Just sit down, Leo. We’ve got stuff to talk about.”

Leo sat down next to Alex. He figured she was least likely to smack him if he made bad jokes. He took a bite of his brownie and grabbed a pack of Italian junk food—Fonzies—to round out his balanced breakfast. He’d become kind of addicted to the things since buying some in Bologna. They were cheesy and corny—two of his favorite qualities.

“So…” Jason leaned forward. “We’re going to stay airborne and drop anchor as close as we can to Olympia. It’s further inland than I’d like—about five miles—but we don’t have much choice. According to Juno, we have to find the goddess of victory and, um… subdue her.”

“According to Nico,” Alex corrected. “Juno just confirmed it.”

Uncomfortable silence around the table.

With the new drapes covering the holographic walls, the mess hall was darker and gloomier than it should’ve been, but that couldn’t be helped. Ever since the Kerkopes dwarf twins had short-circuited the walls, the real-time video feed from Camp Half-Blood often fuzzed out, changing into playback of extreme dwarf close-ups—red whiskers, nostrils and bad dental work. It wasn’t helpful when you were trying to eat or have a serious conversation about the fate of the world.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Nike a goddess we don’t want to fight?” Piper asked. “I mean, I love victory. We could use victory right now. Why would we fight her?”

Magnus shrugged. “Nico didn’t say anything about that. But I did some reading about, you know, Greek and Roman mythology. Everyone loved her, right? Both the Greeks and the Romans worshiped her for hundreds of years.”

“Almost to the end of the Roman Empire,” Frank agreed. “Romans called her Victoria, but same difference. Everybody loved her. Who doesn’t like to win? Not sure why we would have to subdue her.”

Jason frowned. A wisp of steam curled from the wound under his shirt. “All I know… the ghoul Antinous said, Victory runs rampant in Olympia. Juno warned us that we could never heal the rift between the Greeks and Romans unless we defeated victory.”

“How do we defeat victory?” Piper wondered. “Sounds like one of those impossible riddles.”

"A paradox," Magnus said. "Like Andskoti or Gleipnir, the ropes used to bind Fenris. WiFi with no lag, roots of a mountain, breath of a fish."

“Or like making stones fly,” Leo said, “or eating only one Fonzie.”

He popped a handful into his mouth.

Hazel wrinkled her nose. “That stuff is going to kill you.”

“You kidding? So many preservatives in these things, I’ll live forever. But, hey, about this victory goddess being popular and great—Don’t you guys remember what her kids are like at Camp Half-Blood?”

Hazel and Frank had never been to Camp Half-Blood, but the others nodded gravely.

“Holly and Laurel?” Alex asked. “They’re great, why?”

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Uh, have you even met them? They’re super competitive. I was passed out for a whole day because I had to help the Apollo cabin heal all the injuries they caused last time. Twenty campers with broken legs, six with broken arms, Connor Stoll had twigs shoved up his nose, Miranda Gardiner’s fingers were not supposed to bend that far back.”

“Okay, okay, point,” Alex relented.

Frank fronwed. “You’re saying Nike has a dark side?”

“Her kids sure do,” Magnus said. “They never turn down a challenge. They have to be number one at everything. If their mom is that intense…”

“Whoa.” Piper put her hands on the table like the ship was rocking. “Guys, all the gods are split between their Greek and Roman aspects, right? If Nike’s that way and she’s the goddess of victory—”

“She’d be really conflicted,” Alex said. “She’d want one side or the other to win so she could declare a victor. She’d literally be fighting with herself.”

Hazel nudged her cereal bowl across the map of Greece. “But we don’t want one side or the other to win. We’ve got to get the Greeks and Romans on the same team.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Jason said. “If the goddess of victory is running rampant, torn between Greek and Roman, she might make it impossible to bring the two camps together.”

“How?” Leo asked. “Start a flame war on Twitter?”

“No idea,” Magnus said. “But Alex and I used to have this friend. He was a child of Tyr, the Norse god of courage, law, and trial by combat. He literally could not turn down a challenge. If Nike’s kids are like that, maybe Nike can radiate this energy that makes it harder for others to turn down challenges.”

“She could aggravate the whole Greek-Roman rivalry big-time,” Hazel said.

“When Percy and I met Phorcys in Atlanta he said that Gaea’s plans always have lots of layers,” Frank said. “This could be part of the giants’ strategy—keep the two camps divided; keep the gods divided. If that’s the case, we can’t let Nike play us against each other. We should send a landing party of four—two Greeks, two Romans. The balance might help keep her balanced.”

Listening to Zhang, Leo had one of those double-take moments. He couldn’t believe how much the guy had changed in the last few weeks.

Frank wasn’t just taller and buffer. He was more confident now, more willing to take charge. Maybe that was because his magic firewood lifeline was safely stashed away in a flameproof pouch, or maybe it was because he’d commanded a zombie legion and been promoted to praetor. Whatever the case, Leo had trouble seeing him as the same klutzy dude who’d once iguanaed his way out of Chinese handcuffs.

“We’d have to be careful about who goes,” Magnus said. “We can’t afford to make the goddess, uh, more unstable.”

“Leo and I are the only Greeks,” Piper pointed out. “Whoever goes from the Roman side will have to—”

“Not a good idea,” Magnus said. “Nike is all about competition. Aphrodite is too. She has to be the fairest. Or have you forgotten the Trojan War?”

“But we’re the only Greeks,” Piper said. “If I don’t go, who will?”

“I will,” Alex said.

Hazel frowned. “You’re not Greek or Roman. Won’t you make it worse?”

“I’m not a Greek demigod, sure, but Camp Half-Blood is my home,” Alex said. “If anyone can fit the spot, it’s me.”

“That leaves the Romans,” Magnus said.

“Hazel and I shouldn’t be together,” Jason said. “Jupiter and Pluto probably isn’t a good combination.”

“Hazel and Frank then,” Leo said. “Pluto, Mars, Hephaestus, and Loki. What could go wrong?”

“A lot, but it’s the best we have,” Magnus said.

Hazel traced her finger along the map of Greece. “I still wish we could’ve gone through the Gulf of Corinth. I was hoping we could visit Delphi, maybe get some advice. Plus it’s such a long way around the Peloponnese.”

“Yeah.” Leo’s heart sank when he looked at how much coastline they still had to navigate. “It’s July twenty-second already. Counting today, only ten days until—”

“I know,” Jason said. “But Juno was clear. The shorter way would have been suicide.”

“And as for Delphi…” Piper leaned towards the map. “What’s going on there? If Apollo doesn’t have his Oracle any more…”

“He doesn’t,” Alex said shortly. “Nico could tell you more, but that’s the next big issue.”

“Great,” Jason sighed. “Well, hopefully we can find Apollo and Artemis at Delos. Juno said they might be willing to help us.”

“That’s a lot to do in ten days,” Frank muttered. “A lot of miles to cover before we get to Athens.”

“First things first,” Magnus said. “You guys have to find Nike and figure out how to subdue her… whatever Juno meant by that. I still don’t understand how you defeat a goddess who controls victory. Seems impossible.”

Leo started to grin. He couldn’t help it. Sure, they only had ten days to stop the giants from waking Gaea. Sure, he could die before dinnertime. But he loved being told that something was impossible. It was like someone handing him a lemon meringue pie and telling him not to throw it. He just couldn’t resist the challenge.

“We’ll see about that.” He rose to his feet. “Let me get my collection of grenades and I’ll meet you guys on deck!”

Chapter Text

“PRAISE THE GODS FOR AC,” ALEX SAID. “And smart of us to choose it.”

Leo snorted. “It is pretty great isn’t it?”

“Better than great.”

Alex and Leo had just searched the museum. Now they were sitting on a bridge that spanned the Kladeos River, their feet dangling over the water as they waited for Frank and Hazel to finish scouting the ruins.

To their left, the Olympic valley shimmered in the afternoon heat. To their right, the visitors’ lot was crammed with tour buses. Good thing the Argo II was moored a hundred feet in the air, because they never would’ve found parking.

Leo skipped a stone across the river. He wished Hazel and Frank would get back. He felt awkward hanging out with Alex. He’d never actually been alone with one of the time travelers before. It was unnerving. He felt like they could read his mind.

Yeah, that probably wasn’t true, but what else was he supposed to feel around people who could literally tell him what was going to happen on any given day in the future?

Also… Leo really didn’t want to get on the bad side of Alex’s garrote.

“So… you met Calypso, right?”

Leo blinked. “How did you…?”

“One,” Alex said, holding up a finger, “stupid question. Of course I know. Two, you have that same look on your face that Magnus had for, like, ever.” She tilted her head. “Well, not right now, but sometimes you do.”

“What look?” Leo demanded.

“The ‘I’m so in love with someone’ face,” Alex said. “Magnus looked exactly like that for the longest time, yet he didn’t figure it out until he was two feet tall and challenging my mother to a flyting. What a way to find out your feelings are reciprocated, you know? He said that too. Like, wow.” Alex’s eyes opened wide. “But nevermind that. Calypso, right? You’ll find her.”

Leo looked at Alex. “This an ‘I know the future’ thing or a ‘you can do it’ thing?”

Alex shrugged. “Both?”

“About that,” Leo began. “I’ve been having my suspicions—”

“Guys!” Frank stood at the far end of the parking lot, waving at them to come over. Next to him, Hazel sat astride her horse Arion, who had appeared unannounced as soon as they’d landed.

“Hold that thought,” Alex said.

She and Leo jogged over to meet their friends.

“This place is huge,” Frank reported. “The ruins stretch from the river to the base of that mountain over there, about half a kilometer. From overhead, I didn’t see anything suspicious.”

“Neither did I,” Hazel said. “Arion took me on a complete loop around the perimeter. A lot of tourists, but no crazy goddess.”

The big stallion nickered and tossed his head, his neck muscles rippling under his butterscotch coat.

“So we blunder around together,” Leo said, “and let trouble find us. It’s always worked before.”

They poked about for a while, avoiding tour groups and ducking from one patch of shade to the next. Not for the first time, Leo was struck by how similar Greece was to his home state of Texas—the low hills, the scrubby trees, the drone of cicadas and the oppressive summer heat. Switch out the ancient columns and ruined temples for cows and barbed wire, and Leo would’ve felt right at home.

Frank found a tourist pamphlet (seriously, that dude would read the ingredients on a soup can) and gave them a running commentary on what was what.

“This is the Propylon.” He waved towards a stone path lined with crumbling columns. “One of the main gates into the Olympic valley.”

“Rubble!” said Leo.

“And over there—” Frank pointed to a square foundation that looked like the patio for a Mexican restaurant “—is the Temple of Hera, one of the oldest structures here.”

“More rubble!” Leo said.

“Screw Hera,” Alex muttered

“And that round bandstand-looking thing—that’s the Philipeon, dedicated to Philip of Macedonia.”

“Even more rubble! First-rate rubble!”

Hazel, who was still riding Arion, kicked Leo in the arm. “Doesn’t anything impress you?”

Leo glanced up. Her curly gold-brown hair and golden eyes matched her helmet and sword so well she might’ve been engineered from Imperial gold. Leo doubted Hazel would consider that a compliment, but, as far as humans went, Hazel was first-rate craftsmanship.

Leo remembered their trip together through the House of Hades. Hazel had led him through that creepy maze of illusions. She’d made the sorceress Pasiphaë disappear through an imaginary hole in the floor. She’d battled the giant Clytius while Leo choked in the giant’s cloud of darkness. She’d cut the chains binding the Doors of Death. Meanwhile Leo had done… well, pretty much nothing.

He wasn’t infatuated with Hazel any more. His heart was far away on the island of Ogygia. Still, Hazel Levesque impressed him—even when she wasn’t sitting atop a scary immortal supersonic horse.

He didn’t say any of this, but Hazel must have picked up on his thoughts. She looked away, flustered.

“Nico would have gotten a kick out of that,” Alex mused. “I think he’s got friends who have a friend named Philip of Macedonia.”

Hazel frowned. “Who?”

“I don’t know, I think his name is Walt or Warren or something,” Alex said. “Or was that Anne? Ani? Something like that.”

As far as Leo knew, there was a pretty big pronunciation difference between Walt, Warren, Anne, and Ani. He wasn’t sure how Alex would mix those up, but he decided he didn’t really want to know.

Happily oblivious, Frank continued his guided tour. “And over there… oh.” He winced. “Uh, that semicircular depression in the hill, with the niches… that’s a nymphaeum, built in Roman times.”

“I’m not going there,” Leo said. He had heard all about the near-death experience in the nymphaeum in Rome with Jason, Piper, Percy, and Magnus.

“Agreed,” Hazel said.

They kept walking.

Once in a while, Leo’s hands drifted to his tool belt. Ever since the Kerkopes had stolen it in Bologna, he was scared he might get belt-jacked again, though he doubted any monster was as good at thievery as those dwarfs. He wondered how the little crud monkeys were doing in New York. He hoped they were still having fun harassing Romans, stealing lots of shiny zippers and causing legionnaires’ trousers to fall down.

“This is the Pelopion,” Frank said, pointing to another fascinating pile of stones.

“Come on, Zhang,” Leo said. “Pelopion isn’t even a word. What was it—a sacred spot for plopping?”

Frank looked offended. “It’s the burial site of Pelops. This whole part of Greece, the Peloponnese, was named after him.”

Leo resisted the urge to throw a grenade in Frank’s face. “I suppose I should know who Pelops was?”

“He was a prince, won his wife in a chariot race. Supposedly he started the Olympic games in honor of that.”

Hazel sniffed. “How romantic. ‘Nice wife you have, Prince Pelops.’ ‘Thanks. I won her in a chariot race.’”

Leo didn’t see how any of this was helping them find the victory goddess. At the moment, the only victory he wanted was to vanquish an ice-cold drink and maybe some nachos.

Still… the further they got into the ruins, the more uneasy he felt. He flashed back to one of his earliest memories—his babysitter Tía Callida, a.k.a. Hera, encouraging him to prod a poisonous snake with a stick when he was four years old. The psycho goddess told him it was good training for being a hero, and maybe she’d been right. These days Leo spent most of his time poking around until he found trouble.

He scanned the crowds of tourists, wondering if they were regular mortals or monsters in disguise, like those eidolons who’d chased them in Rome. Every so often he thought he saw a familiar face—his bully cousin, Raphael; his mean third-grade teacher, Mr Borquin; his abusive foster mom, Teresa—all kinds of people who had treated Leo like dirt.

Probably he just imagined their faces, but it made him edgy. He remembered how the goddess Nemesis had appeared as his Aunt Rosa, the person Leo most resented and wanted revenge on. He wondered if Nemesis was around here somewhere, watching to see what Leo would do. He still wasn’t sure he’d paid his debt to that goddess. He suspected she wanted more suffering from him. Maybe today was the day.

They stopped at some wide steps leading to another ruined building—the Temple of Zeus, according to Frank.

“Used to be a huge gold-and-ivory statue of Zeus inside,” Zhang said. “One of the seven wonders of the ancient world. Made by the same dude who did the Athena Parthenos.”

“We don’t have to find that, do we?” Leo asked in dismay.

Alex grinned. “You kidding? Of course we do!”

“I really hope you’re kidding.”

Hazel patted Arion’s flank, as the stallion was acting skittish. “She is.”

Leo felt like whinnying and stomping his hooves, too. He was hot and agitated and hungry. He felt like they’d prodded the poisonous snake about as much as they could and the snake was about strike back. He wanted to call it a day and return to the ship before that happened.

Unfortunately, when Frank mentioned Temple of Zeus and statue, Leo’s brain had made a connection. Against his better judgement, he shared it.

“Hey, Alex,” he said, “remember that statue of Nike in the museum? The one that was all in pieces?”

“Yeah?”

“Didn’t it used to stand here, at the Temple of Zeus? Feel free to tell me I’m wrong. I’d love to be wrong.”

Alex’s face twisted. “Dammit. Yeah. You’re right.” She looked around. “If Nike was anywhere… this would be a good spot.”

Frank scanned their surroundings. “I don’t see anything.”

“How do you make a goddess show up?” Alex asked.

“We could promote Adidas,” Leo offered. “Might make her mad enough. It’s probably against her sponsorship deal. THOSE ARE NOT THE OFFICIAL SHOES OF THE OLYMPICS! YOU WILL DIE NOW!”

Alex stared at him. “Seriously?”

Behind Leo, a thunderous voice shook the ruins: “YOU WILL DIE NOW!”

Leo almost jumped out of his tool belt. He turned… and mentally kicked himself. He just had to invoke Adidas, the goddess of off-brand shoes.

Towering over him in a golden chariot, with a spear aimed at his heart, was the goddess Nike.

Chapter Text

THE GOLD WINGS WERE OVERKILL.

Leo could dig the chariot and the two white horses. He was okay with Nike’s glittering sleeveless dress (Calypso totally rocked that style, but that wasn’t relevant) and Nike’s piled-up braids of dark hair circled with a gilded laurel wreath. Her expression was wide-eyed and a little crazy, like she’d just had twenty espressos and ridden a roller coaster, but that didn’t bother Leo. He could even deal with the gold-tipped spear pointed at his chest.

But those wings—they were polished gold, right down to the last feather. Leo could admire the intricate workmanship, but it was too much, too bright, too flashy. If her wings had been solar panels, Nike would’ve produced enough energy to power Miami.

“Lady,” he said, “could you fold your flappers, please? You’re giving me a sunburn.”

“What?” Nike’s head jerked towards him like a startled chicken. “Oh… my brilliant plumage. Very well. I suppose you can’t die in glory if you are blinded and burned.” She tucked in her wings. The temperature dropped to a normal hundred-and-twenty-degree summer afternoon.

Leo glanced at his friends. Frank stood very still, sizing up the goddess. His backpack hadn’t yet morphed into a bow and quiver, which was probably prudent. He couldn’t have been too freaked out, because he’d avoided turning into a giant goldfish.

Hazel was having trouble with Arion. The roan stallion nickered and bucked, avoiding eye contact with the white horses pulling Nike’s chariot.

Alex was blinking rapidly like she was trying to rid her vision of spots. She stared at Nike with an unreadable expression and her hands rested on the handles of her garrote.

Nobody stepped forward to talk. Leo kind of wished Piper and Annabeth were there. They were much better at the whole talking thing.

He decided somebody had better say something before they all died in glory.

“So!” He pointed his index fingers at Nike. “I didn’t get the briefing, and I’m pretty sure the information wasn’t covered in Frank’s pamphlet. Could you tell me what’s going on here?”

Nike’s wide-eyed stare unnerved him. Was Leo’s nose on fire? That happened sometimes when he got stressed.

“We must have victory!” the goddess shrieked. “The contest must be decided! You have come here to determine the winner, yes?”

Frank cleared his throat. “Are you Nike or Victoria?”

“Argghh!” The goddess clutched the side of her head. Her horses reared, causing Arion to do the same.

The goddess shuddered and split into two separate images, which reminded Leo—ridiculously—of when he used to lie on the floor in his apartment as a kid and play with the coiled doorstop on the skirting board. He would pull it back and let it fly: sproing! The stopper would shudder back and forth so fast it looked like it was splitting into two separate coils.

That’s what Nike looked like: a divine doorstop, splitting in two.

On the left was the first version: glittery sleeveless dress, dark hair circled with laurels, golden wings folded behind her. On the right was a different version, dressed for war in a Roman breastplate and greaves. Short auburn hair peeked out from the rim of a tall helmet. Her wings were feathery white, her dress purple, and the shaft of her spear was fixed with a plate-sized Roman insignia—a golden SPQR in a laurel wreath.

“I am Nike!” cried the image on the left.

“I am Victoria!” cried the one on the right.

For the first time, Leo understood the old saying his abuelo used to use: talking out of the side of your mouth. This goddess was literally saying two different things at once. She kept shuddering and splitting, making Leo dizzy. He was tempted to get out his tools and adjust the idle on her carburettor, because that much vibration would make her engine fly apart.

“Dude,” Alex said, giving Frank a dirty look. “You had to ask.”

Frank looked apologetic. “Sorry.”

“I am the decider of victory!” Nike screamed. “Once I stood here at the corner of Zeus’s temple, venerated by all! I oversaw the games of Olympia. Offerings from every city-state were piled at my feet!”

“Games are irrelevant!” yelled Victoria. “I am the goddess of success in battle! Roman generals worshipped me! Augustus himself erected my altar in the Senate House!”

“Ahhhh!” both voices screamed in agony. “We must decide! We must have victory!”

Arion bucked so violently that Hazel had to slide off his back to avoid getting thrown. Before she could calm him down, the horse disappeared, leaving a vapour trail through the ruins.

“Nike,” Hazel said, stepping forward slowly, “you’re confused, like all the gods. The Greeks and Romans are on the verge of war. It’s causing your two aspects to clash.”

“I know that!” The goddess shook her spear, the tip rubber-banding into two points. “I cannot abide unresolved conflict! Who is stronger? Who is the winner?”

“Lady, nobody’s the winner,” Leo said. “If that war happens, everybody loses.”

“No winner?” Nike looked so shocked, Leo was pretty sure his nose must be on fire. “There is always a winner! One winner. Everyone else is a loser! Otherwise victory is meaningless. I suppose you want me to give certificates to all the contestants? Little plastic trophies to every single athlete or soldier for participation? Should we all line up and shake hands and tell each other, Good game? No! Victory must be real. It must be earned. That means it must be rare and difficult, against steep odds, and defeat must be the other possibility.”

The goddess’s two horses nipped at each other, as if getting into the spirit.

“Uh… okay,” Leo said. “I can tell you’ve got strong feelings about that. But the real war is against Gaea.”

“He’s right,” Hazel said. “Nike, you were Zeus’s charioteer in the last war with the giants, weren’t you?”

“Of course!”

“Then you know Gaea is the real enemy. We need your help to defeat her. The war isn’t between the Greeks and Romans.”

Victoria roared, “The Greeks must perish!”

“Victory or death!” Nike wailed. “One side must prevail!”

Alex blinked. “Dude, Nike watches Voltron.”

“Voltron?” Frank repeated. “What is that? One of Coach Hedge’s boxers?”

Leo wrinkled his nose. “I seriously hope you mean the guys who punch each other and not the things that go under your pants.” He had a scary metal image of Coach Hedge trotting around in those white boxers with red hearts.

“No!” Alex said, rolling her eyes. “You know, the show with the metal lions? They’re always shouting ‘Form Voltron!’” She looked at them expectantly. “Nico kinda looks like Keith.”

Leo looked at her blankly. So did Frank and Hazel.

“Nevermind,” Alex scowled. “I guess you don’t know what that is yet. Whatever. Just don’t get invested in Klance. You know what? I’ll make a list of crap to avoid doing later. I’m going to kill TJ for showing me that damn show,” she muttered. “Except he hasn’t shown it to me yet. Hmm. I'll have to make sure we don't watch it during our hall movie nights.”

“Enough!” Victoria screamed.

Frank grunted. “Gods, I get enough of this from my dad screaming in my head.”

Victoria glared down at him. “A child of Mars, are you? A praetor of Rome? No true Roman would spare the Greeks. I cannot abide to be split and confused—I cannot think straight! Kill them! Win!”

“Not happening,” Frank said, though Leo noticed Zhang’s right eye was twitching.

Leo was struggling, too. Nike was sending off waves of tension, setting his nerves on fire. He felt like he was crouched at the starting line, waiting for someone to yell “Go!” He had the irrational desire to wrap his hands around Frank’s neck, which was stupid, since his hands wouldn’t even fit around Frank’s neck.

“Okay,” Alex said, holding up her hands. “Do you think we could, um, discuss this all civilly and like? Because otherwise, I’m going to need a tranquilizer to go with my garrote.”

The goddess brandished her spear. “You will determine the matter once and for all! Today, now, you will decide the victor! Four of you? Excellent! We will have teams. Perhaps girls versus boys!”

Leo really did not want to be on the other end of Alex’s garrote. “Um, no.”

“Shirts versus skins!”

“Definitely no,” said Hazel.

“Greeks versus Romans!” Nike cried. “Yes, of course! Two and two. The last demigod standing wins. The others will die gloriously.” She frowned at Alex. “Wait. You’re not Greek.”

“Nope,” Alex said.

“You cannot fight for the Greeks!” Nike screeched. “A Norse demigod helping the Greeks? A Norse demigod helping the Romans? Impossible! Against the rules!”

“So glad I don’t give a damn,” Alex said, rolling her eyes. “If I say I’m Greek, then I’m Greek. I’m a shapeshifter, you know, so… I can do that.”

Leo wasn't sure if that was actually a real thing or if Alex was just BS-ing her way through this. He thought that latter was more likely.

“Fine,” Nike snapped. “A battle between the Greeks and the Romans. Right here, right now.”

A competitive urge pulsed through Leo’s body. It took all of his effort not to reach in his tool belt, grab a mallet and whop Hazel and Frank upside their heads.

He realized how right Magnus had been not to send anyone whose parents had natural rivalries. If Jason were here, he and Hazel would probably already be on the ground, bashing each other’s brains out.

He forced his fists to unclench. “Look, lady, we’re not going to go all Hunger Games on each other. Isn’t going to happen.”

“But you will win a fabulous honor!” Nike reached into a basket at her side and produced a wreath of thick green laurels. “This crown of leaves could be yours! You can wear it on your head! Think of the glory!”

“Leo’s right,” Frank said, though his eyes were fixed on the wreath. His expression was a little too greedy for Leo’s taste. “We don’t fight each other. We fight the giants. You should help us.”

“Very well!” The goddess raised the laurel wreath in one hand and her spear in the other.

Leo eyed the spear warily. “Does that mean you’ll join us? You’ll help us fight the giants?”

“That will be part of the prize,” Nike said. “Whoever wins, I will consider you an ally. We will fight the giants together, and I will bestow victory upon you. But there can only be one winner. The others must be defeated, killed, destroyed utterly. So what will it be, demigods? Will you succeed in your quest, or will you cling to your namby-pamby ideas of friendship and everybody wins participation awards?”

“I’d rather fight you,” Alex said. “I’ve fought gods before. So have my friends. I like these odds.”

“Ha!” Nike’s eyes gleamed. “If you refuse to fight each other, you shall be persuaded!”

Nike spread her golden wings. Four metal feathers fluttered down, two on either side of the chariot. The feathers twirled like gymnasts, growing larger, sprouting arms and legs, until they touched the ground as four metallic, human-sized replicas of the goddess, each armed with a golden spear and a Celestial bronze laurel wreath that looked suspiciously like a barbed-wire Frisbee.

“To the stadium!” the goddess cried. “You have five minutes to prepare. Then blood shall be spilled!”

Leo was about to say, What if we refuse to go to the stadium?

He got his answer before asking the question.

“Run!” Nike bellowed. “To the stadium with you, or my Nikai will kill you where you stand!”

The metal ladies unhinged their jaws and blasted out a sound like a Super Bowl crowd mixed with feedback. They shook their spears and charged the demigods.

It wasn’t Leo’s finest moment. Panic seized him, and he took off. His only comfort was that his friends did, too—and they weren’t the cowardly type.

The four metal women swept behind them in a loose semicircle, herding them to the northeast. All the tourists had vanished. Perhaps they’d fled to the air-conditioned comfort of the museum, or maybe Nike had somehow forced them to leave.

The demigods ran, tripping over stones, leaping over crumbled walls, dodging around columns and informational placards. Behind them, Nike’s chariot wheels rumbled and her horses whinnied.

Every time Leo thought about slowing down, the metal ladies screamed again—what had Nike called them? Nikai? Nikettes?—filling Leo with terror.

He hated being filled with terror. It was embarrassing.

“There!” Frank sprinted towards a kind of trench between two earthen walls with a stone archway above. It reminded Leo of those tunnels that football teams run through when they enter the field. “That’s the entrance to the old Olympic stadium. It’s called the crypt!”

“Not a good name!” Leo yelled.

“Why are we going there?” Alex asked. “If that’s where she wants us—”

The Nikettes screamed again and all rational thought abandoned Leo. He ran for the tunnel.

When they reached the arch, Hazel yelled, “Hold it!”

They stumbled to a stop.

Frank peered back the way they’d come. “I don’t see them any more. They disappeared.”

“Did they give up?” Alex asked hopefully.

Leo scanned the ruins. “Nah. They just herded us where they wanted us. What were those things, anyway? The Nikettes, I mean.”

“Nikettes?” Frank scratched his head. “I think it was Nikai, plural, like victories.”

“Yes.” Hazel looked deep in thought, running her hands along the stone archway. “In some legends, Nike had an army of little victories she could send all over the world to do her bidding.”

“Like Santa’s elves,” Leo said. “Except evil. And metal. And really loud.”

Hazel pressed her fingers against the arch, as if taking its pulse. Beyond the narrow tunnel, the earthen walls opened into a long field with gently rising slopes on either side, like seating for spectators.

Leo guessed it would have been an open-air stadium back in the day—big enough for discus-throwing, javelin-catching, naked shot-put, or whatever else those crazy Greeks used to do to win a bunch of leaves.

“Ghosts linger in this place,” Hazel murmured. “A lot of pain is embedded in these stones.”

“Please tell me you have a plan,” Leo said. “Preferably one that doesn’t involve embedding my pain in the stones.” He looked at Alex hopefully. “Nico give you the rundown on these things?”

“If I knew how to defeat the Nikai, I would tell you,” Alex said. “But Nico just said we had to subdue Victory with a capital-V. Obviously that’s Nike, but he never told us the plan.”

Hazel’s eyes were stormy and distant, the way they’d been in the House of Hades—like she was peering into a different layer of reality. “This was the players’ entrance. Nike said we have five minutes to prepare. Then she’ll expect us to pass under this archway and begin the games. We won’t be allowed to leave that field until three of us are dead.” She frowned in concentration. “I might be able to give us an edge. When we pass through, I could raise some obstacles on the field—hiding places to buy us some time.”

Frank frowned. “You mean like on the Field of Mars—trenches, tunnels, that kind of thing? You can do that with the Mist?”

“I think so,” Hazel said. “Nike would probably like to see an obstacle course. I can play her expectations against her. But it would be more than that. I can use any subterranean gateway—even this arch—to access the Labyrinth. I can raise part of the Labyrinth to the surface.”

Alex shivered. “I hate that maze. I thought we already discussed this. No Labyrinth.”

“I’m with Alex on this,” Leo said. He remembered all too well how Hazel had led him through the illusionary maze in the House of Hades. They’d almost died about every six feet. “I mean, I know you’re good with magic. But we’ve already got four screaming Nikettes to worry about—”

“You’ll have to trust me,” she said. “We’ve only got a couple of minutes now. When we pass through the arch, I can at least manipulate the playing field to our advantage. We have to put Nike off guard. We’ll pretend to fight until we can neutralize those Nikettes—ugh, that’s an awful name. Then we subdue Nike, like Juno and Nico said.”

“Makes sense,” Frank agreed. “You felt how powerful Nike was, trying to put us at each other’s throats. If she’s sending out those vibes to all the Greeks and Romans, there’s no way we’ll be able to prevent a war. We’ve got to get her under control.”

“And how do we do that?” Alex asked. “Bonk her on the head and stuff her in a sack?” She grinned. "Throw her through a magic portal?"

Leo’s mental gears started to turn.

“Actually,” he said, “you’re not far off. Well, except for the portal thing. Uncle Leo brought some toys for all you good little demigods.”

Chapter Text

TWO MINUTES WASN’T NEARLY ENOUGH TIME.

Leo hoped he’d given everybody the right gadgets and adequately explained what all the buttons did. Otherwise things would get ugly.

While he was lecturing Frank and Alex on Archimedean mechanics, Hazel stared at the stone archway and muttered under her breath. Nothing seemed to change in the big grassy field beyond, but Leo was sure Hazel had some Mistalicious tricks up her sleeve.

He was just explaining to Frank how to avoid getting decapitated by his own Archimedes sphere when the sound of trumpets echoed through the stadium. Nike’s chariot appeared on the field, the Nikettes arrayed in front of her with their spears and laurels raised.

“Begin!” the goddess bellowed.

Alex and Leo sprinted through the archway. Immediately, the field shimmered and became a maze of brick walls and trenches. They ducked behind the nearest wall and ran to the left. Back at the archway, Frank yelled, “Uh, die, Graecus scum!” A poorly aimed arrow sailed over Leo’s head.

“More vicious!” Nike yelled. “Kill like you mean it!”

Leo glanced at Alex. “Ready?”

“I once almost single handedly destroyed Camp Half-Blood with a paint gun,” Alex said, hefting a bronze grenade. “I was born ready.”

That probably should have worried Leo, but there wasn’t any time to think about that now.

“Die, Romans!” Alex yelled, lobbing the grenade over the wall.

BOOM! Leo couldn’t see the explosion, but the smell of buttery popcorn filled the air.

“Oh, no!” Hazel wailed. “Popcorn! Our fatal weakness!”

Frank shot another arrow over their heads. Leo and Alex scrambled to the left, ducking through a maze of walls that seemed to shift and turn on their own. Leo could still see the open sky above him, but claustrophobia started to set in, making it hard for him to breathe.

Somewhere behind them, Nike yelled, “Try harder! That popcorn was not fatal!”

From the rumble of her chariot wheels, Leo guessed she was circling the perimeter of the field—Victory taking a victory lap.

Another grenade exploded over Alex’s and Leo’s heads. They dived into a trench as the green starburst of Greek fire singed Leo’s hair. Fortunately, Frank had aimed high enough that the blast only looked impressive.

“Better,” Nike called out, “but where is your aim? Don’t you want this circlet of leaves?”

“I want this to be over with,” Alex muttered.

“Look.” Leo pointed across the field. The walls had shifted, revealing one of the Nikettes about thirty yards away, standing with her back to them. Hazel must be doing her thing—manipulating the maze to isolate their targets.

“I distract,” Leo said, “you attack. Ready?” He shook his head. “Nevermind, you were born ready. I forgot.”

Alex grinned. “You’re catching on.”

She dashed to the left as Leo pulled a ball-peen hammer from his tool belt and yelled, “Hey, Bronze Butt!”

The Nikette turned as Leo threw. His hammer clanged harmlessly off the metal lady’s chest, but she must have been annoyed. She marched towards him, raising her barbed-wire laurel wreath.

“Oops.” Leo ducked as the metal circlet spun over his head. The wreath hit a wall behind him, punching a hole straight through the bricks, then arced backwards through the air like a boomerang.

As the Nikette raised her hand to catch it, Alex emerged from the trench behind her and threw one end of her garrote at the Nikette. It wrapped around the Nikette’s waist and Alex tugged, cutting the Nikette in half. The metal wreath shot past him and embedded in a marble column.

“Foul!” the victory goddess cried. The walls shifted and Leo saw her barrelling towards them in her chariot. “You don’t attack the Nikai unless you wish to die!”

A trench appeared in the goddess’s path, causing her horses to balk. Leo and Alex ran for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, maybe fifty feet away, Leo saw Frank the grizzly bear jump from the top of a wall and flatten another Nikette. Two Bronze Butts down, two more to go.

“No!” Nike screamed in outrage. “No, no, no! Your lives are forfeit! Nikai, attack!”

Leo and Alex leaped behind a wall. They lay there for a second, trying to catch their breath. Leo had trouble getting his bearings, but he guessed that was part of Hazel’s plan. She was causing the terrain to shift around them—opening new trenches, changing the slope of the land, throwing up new walls and columns. With luck, she would make it harder for the Nikettes to find them. Travelling just twenty feet might take them several minutes.

Still, Leo hated being disoriented. It reminded him of his helplessness in the House of Hades—the way Clytius had smothered him in darkness, snuffing out his fire, possessing his voice. It reminded him of Khione, plucking him off the deck of the Argo II with a gust of wind and shooting him halfway across the Mediterranean.

It was bad enough being scrawny and weak. If Leo couldn’t control his own senses, his own voice, his own body… that didn’t leave him much to rely on.

“Hey,” Alex said. “You good? We’re going to get out of this. I figure I replaced Percy or Annabeth on this mission, and you guys all got out of this alive with them. You’ll get out of this with me too.”

“Will we?” Leo asked before he could stop himself. “Because I’m not stupid. You and Magnus and Nico all avoid the topic of who dies in this war. You’re all adamant that I’m alive, but I don’t believe you. I die fighting Gaea, don’t I?”

Alex didn’t say anything. “Just because someone died in the other timeline doesn’t mean they have to die in this one.” She looked around the arena. “Look, can we talk about this later?”

The ground rumbled as another grenade exploded, sending spirals of whipped cream into the sky.

“That’s Hazel’s signal,” Leo said. “They’ve taken down another Nikette.”

Alex eyed him like she wanted him to be aware that she identified his lack of answer, but she tore her eyes away to peek around the corner of the wall.

“One Nikette left,” she said. “I wonder—”

Somewhere close by, Hazel cried out in pain.

Instantly, Leo was on his feet.

“Dude, wait!” Alex called, but Leo plunged through the maze, his heart pounding.

The walls fell away on either side. Leo found himself in an open stretch of field. Frank stood at the far end of the stadium, shooting flaming arrows at Nike’s chariot as the goddess bellowed insults and tried to find a path to him across the shifting network of trenches.

Hazel was closer—maybe sixty feet away. The fourth Nikette had obviously sneaked up on her. Hazel was limping away from her attacker, her jeans ripped, her left leg bleeding. She parried the metal lady’s spear with her huge cavalry sword, but she was about to be overpowered. All around her, the Mist flickered like a dying strobe light. She was losing control of the magic maze.

“I’ll help her,” Alex said. “You stick to the plan. Get Nike’s chariot.”

“But the plan was to eliminate all four Nikettes first!”

“So change the plan and then stick to it!”

“That doesn’t even make sense, but go! Help her!”

Alex rushed to Hazel’s defence. Leo darted towards Nike, yelling, “Hey! I want a participation award!”

“Gah!” The goddess pulled the reins and turned her chariot in his direction. “I will destroy you!”

“Good!” Leo yelled. “Losing is way better than winning!”

“WHAT?” Nike threw her mighty spear, but her aim was off with the rocking of the chariot. Her weapon skittered into the grass. Sadly, a new one appeared in her hands.

She urged her horses to a full gallop. The trenches disappeared, leaving an open field, perfect for running down small Latino demigods.

“Hey!” Frank yelled from across the stadium. “I want a participation award, too! Everybody wins!”

He shot a well-aimed arrow that landed in the back of Nike’s chariot and began to burn. Nike ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on Leo.

Leo uttered a few choice words in Spanish, English, and Ancient Greek. From his tool belt, he fished out an Archimedes sphere and set the concentric circles to arm the device. He threw the sphere in the chariot’s path. It hit the ground and burrowed in. If Nike sensed a threat, she apparently didn’t think much of it. She kept charging at Leo.

The chariot was twenty feet from the grenade. Fifteen feet. Leo’s hand caught fire. He just needed Nike to get a little closer before he could spring the trap.

Alex was still fighting the Nikette. Her garrote wire was tangled around the Nikette’s spear, and Alex was getting tossed around each time the Nikette moved the spear. The Nikette managed to catch Alex’s gut with the shaft of the spear. Alex stumbled backwards, hands automatically dropping the garrote handles to hold her stomach. She coughed, trying to catch her breath.

The metallic lady moved in for the kill.

Leo howled. He needed to spring the trap, but his friend was in desperate need of help. Maybe Leo was destined to die fighting Gaea, but by the gods he would not let his friends die fighting Nike. He thrust out his hand and shot a white-hot bolt of fire straight at the Nikette.

It literally melted her face. The Nikette staggered, her spear still raised. Before she could regain her balance, Hazel thrust her spatha and impaled the metal lady through the chest. The Nikette crashed into the grass.

Leo turned back towards the victory goddess’s chariot. Just in time, he shot another bolt of fire at the sunken grenade, which exploded in a high-pressure geyser (who knew his tool belt could produce bottled water?). Water blasted upward, flipping the chariot—horses, carriage, goddess and all.

Back in Houston, Leo used to live with his mom in an apartment right off the Gulf Freeway. He heard car crashes at least once a week, but this sound was worse—Celestial bronze crumpling, wood splintering, stallions screaming and a goddess wailing in two distinct voices, both of them very surprised.

Hazel collapsed. Alex caught her. Frank ran towards them from across the field.

Leo was on his own as the goddess Nike disentangled herself from the wreckage and rose to face him. Her braided hairdo now resembled a stepped-on cow pat. A laurel wreath was stuck around her left ankle. Her horses got to their hooves and galloped away in a panic, dragging the soaked, half-burning wreckage of the chariot behind them.

“YOU!” Nike glared at Leo, her eyes hotter and brighter than her metal wings. “You dare?”

Leo didn’t feel very courageous, but he forced a smile. “I know, right? I’m awesome! Do I win a leaf hat now?”

“You will die!” The goddess raised her spear.

“Hold that thought!” Leo dug around in his tool belt. “You haven’t seen my best trick yet. I have a weapon guaranteed to win any contest!”

Nike hesitated. “What weapon? What do you mean?”

“My ultimate zap-o-matic!” He pulled out a second Archimedes sphere—the one he’d spent a whole thirty seconds modifying before they entered the stadium. “How many laurel wreaths have you got? Because I’m gonna win them all.”

He fiddled with dials, hoping he’d done his calculations right.

Leo had got better at making spheres, but they still weren’t completely reliable. More like twenty percent reliable.

It would’ve been nice to have Calypso’s help weaving the Celestial bronze filaments. She was an ace at weaving. But Leo had done his best, rewiring the sphere to carry out two completely different functions.

“Behold!” Leo clicked the final dial. The sphere opened. One side elongated into a gun handle. The other side unfolded into a miniature radar dish made of Celestial bronze mirrors.

Nike frowned. “What is that supposed to be?”

“An Archimedes death ray!” Leo said. “I finally perfected it. Now give me all the prizes.”

“Those things don’t work!” Nike yelled. “They proved it on television! Besides, I’m an immortal goddess. You can’t destroy me!”

“Watch closely,” Leo said. “Are you watching?”

Nike could’ve zapped him into a grease spot or speared him like a cheese wedge, but her curiosity got the best of her. She stared straight into the dish as Leo flipped the switch. Leo knew to look away.

Even so, the blazing beam of light left him seeing spots.

“Gah!” The goddess staggered. She dropped her spear and clutched at her eyes. “I’m blind! I’m blind!”

Leo hit another button on his death ray. It collapsed back into a sphere and began to hum. Leo counted silently to three, then tossed the sphere at the goddess’s feet.

FOOM! Metal filaments shot upward, wrapping Nike in a bronze net. She wailed, falling sideways as the net constricted, forcing her two forms—Greek and Roman—into a quivering, out-of-focus whole.

“Trickery!” Her doubled voices buzzed like muffled alarm clocks. “Your death ray did not even kill me!”

“I don’t need to kill you,” Leo said. “I vanquished you just fine.”

“I will simply change form!” she cried. “I will rip apart your silly net! I will destroy you!”

“Yeah, see, you can’t.” Leo hoped he was right. “That’s high-quality Celestial bronze netting, and I’m a son of Hephaestus. He’s kind of an expert on catching goddesses in nets.”

“No. Nooooo!”

Leo left her thrashing and cursing, and went to check on his friends. Alex looked all right, just sore and bruised. Frank had propped Hazel up and was feeding her ambrosia. The cut on her leg had stopped bleeding, though her jeans were pretty much ruined.

“I’m okay,” she said. “Just too much magic.”

“You were awesome, Levesque.” Leo did his best Hazel imitation: “Popcorn! Our fatal weakness!”

She smiled wanly. Together the four of them walked over to Nike, who was still writhing and flapping her wings in the net like a golden chicken.

“What do we do with her?” Frank asked.

“Take her aboard the Argo II,” Alex said.

“Chuck her in one of the horse stalls,” Leo suggested.

Hazel’s eyes widened. “You’re going to keep the goddess of victory in the stable?”

“Why not? Once we sort things out between Greeks and Romans, the gods should go back to their normal selves. Then we can free her and she can… you know… grant us victory.”

“Grant you victory?” the goddess cried. “Never! You will suffer for this outrage! Your blood shall be spilled! One of you here—one of you four—is fated to die battling Gaea!”

Leo’s intestines tied themselves into a slipknot. “How do you know that?”

“I can foresee victories!” Nike yelled. “You will have no success without death! Release me and fight each other! It is better you die here than face what is to come!”

Hazel stuck the point of her spatha under Nike’s chin. “Explain.” Her voice was harder than Leo had ever heard. “Which of us will die? How do we stop it?”

“Ah, child of Pluto! Your magic helped you cheat in this contest, but you cannot cheat destiny. One of you will die. One of you must die!”

“No,” Hazel insisted. “There’s another way. There is always another path.”

“Hecate taught you this?” Nike laughed. “You would hope for the physician’s cure, perhaps? But that is impossible. Too much stands in your way: the poison of Pylos, the chained god’s heartbeat in Sparta, the curse of Delos! No, you cannot cheat death.”

Frank knelt. He gathered up the net under Nike’s chin and raised her face to his. “What are you talking about? How do we find this cure?”

“I will not help you,” Nike growled. “I will curse you with my power, net or no!”

She began to mutter in Ancient Greek.

Frank looked up, scowling. “Can she really cast magic through this net?”

“Heck if I know,” Leo said.

Frank let go of the goddess. He took off one of his shoes, peeled off his sock and stuffed it in the goddess’s mouth.

“That’s what you get,” Alex told the goddess.

“Mmmppphhh!” Nike complained. “Mmmppphhh!”

“Leo,” Frank said grimly, “you got duct tape?”

“Never leave home without it.” He fished a roll from his tool belt, and in no time Frank had wrapped it around Nike’s head, securing the gag in her mouth.

“Well, it’s not a laurel wreath,” Frank said, “but it’s a new kind of victory circle: the gag of duct tape.”

“Zhang,” Leo said, “you got style.”

Nike thrashed and grunted until Leo nudged her with his toe. “Hey, shut up. You behave or we’ll get Arion back here and let him nibble your wings. He loves gold.”

Nike shrieked once, then became still and quiet.

“So…” Hazel sounded a little nervous. “We have one tied-up goddess. Now what?”

Frank folded his arms. “We go looking for this physician’s cure… whatever that is. Because, personally, I like cheating death.”

Leo grinned. “Poison in Pylos? A chained god’s heartbeat in Sparta? A curse in Delos? Oh, yeah. This is gonna be fun!”

He caught Alex’s eyes. She was giving him an unreadable look. Leo understood what she was silently asking him. Don’t say anything. At least not until we talk.

Leo didn’t know if he wanted to have this talk.

Chapter Text

THE LAST THING NICO HEARD was Coach Hedge grumbling, “Well, this isn’t good.”

He wondered what he’d done wrong this time. Maybe he’d teleported them into a den of Cyclopes, or a thousand feet above another volcano. He didn’t think that was what happened last time, but Nico was pretty sure the Fates would throw him and his friends in a blender for fun.

Still… There was nothing he could do about it. His vision was gone. His other senses were shutting down. His knees buckled and he passed out.

He tried to make the most of his unconsciousness.

Dreams and death were old friends of his. He knew how to navigate their dark borderland. He sent out his thoughts, searching for Thalia Grace. He didn’t want to tell her about Orion. Didn’t want to bring her rushing towards the slaughter that awaited the Hunters, but maybe he could reason with her. He could figure out a way to get her to tell him it was Orion so he had a worthy excuse for Reyna, and also make sure the Hunters and Amazons didn’t get utterly decimated by the giant.

He rushed past the usual fragments of painful memories—his mother smiling down at him, her face illuminated by the sunlight rippling off the Venetian Grand Canal; his sister Bianca laughing as she pulled him across the Mall in Washington, D.C., her green floppy hat shading her eyes and the splash of freckles across her nose. He saw Percy Jackson on a snowy cliff outside Westover Hall, shielding Nico and Bianca from the manticore as Nico clutched a Mythomagic figurine and whispered, I’m scared. He saw Minos, his old ghostly mentor, leading him through the Labyrinth. Minos’s smile was cold and cruel. Don’t worry, son of Hades. You will have your revenge.

Nico couldn’t stop the memories. They cluttered his dreams like the ghosts of Asphodel—an aimless, sorrowful mob pleading for attention. Save me, they seemed to whisper. Remember me. Help me. Comfort me.

That was the part he always hated. Traveling through dreams, through the shadows, only brought up the worst memories. The dark memories.

He didn’t dare stop to dwell on them. They would only crush him with wants and regrets. The best he could do was to stay focused and push through.

I am the son of Hades, he thought. I go where I wish. The darkness is my birthright.

He forged ahead through a grey-and-black terrain, looking for the dreams of Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus. Instead, the ground dissolved at his feet and he fell into a familiar backwater—the Hypnos cabin at Camp Half-Blood.

Buried under piles of feather comforters, snoring demigods nestled in their bunks. Above the mantel, a dark tree branch dripped milky water from the River Lethe into a bowl. A cheerful fire crackled in the fireplace. In front of it, in a leather armchair, dozed the head counsellor for Cabin Fifteen—a pot-bellied guy with unruly blond hair and a gentle bovine face.

“Clovis,” Nico growled, “for the gods’ sake, stop dreaming so powerfully!”

Clovis’s eyes fluttered open. He turned and stared at Nico, though Nico knew this was simply part of Clovis’s own dreamscape. The actual Clovis would still be snoring in his armchair back at camp.

“Oh, hi…” Clovis yawned wide enough to swallow a minor god. “Sorry. Did I pull you off course again?”

Nico gritted his teeth. There was no point getting upset. The Hypnos cabin was like Grand Central Station for dream activity. You couldn’t travel anywhere without going through it once in a while.

“As long as I’m here,” Nico said, “pass along a message. Tell Chiron I’m on my way with a couple of friends. We’re bringing the Athena Parthenos.”

Clovis rubbed his eyes. “So it’s true? How are you bringing it? Did you rent a van or something?” His eyes widened. “Oh my gods, your sister! She took off. Allegra said she found you. Is she with you?”

“What? Bianca? Yeah, she’s with me.” Nico explained as concisely as possible. Messages sent through dreams tended to get fuzzy around the edges, especially when you were dealing with Clovis. The simpler, the better.

“We’re being followed by a hunter,” Nico said. “One of Gaea’s giants, Orion, I think. Can you get that message to Thalia Grace? You’re better at finding people in dreams than I am. I need her advice.” He hesitated. “Tell her to be careful.”

“I’ll try.” Clovis fumbled for a cup of hot chocolate on the side table. “Uh, before you go, do you have a second?”

“Clovis, this is a dream,” Nico reminded him. “Time is fluid.”

He wasn’t worried about falling to his death. He remembered this moment now. Memories were always much better in dreams than they were in waking moments. As long as he had gone to the same place, he would be fine.

Clovis nodded. “Right… I was thinking you should probably see what happened today at the council of war. I slept through some of it, but—”

“Show me,” Nico said.

The scene changed. Nico found himself in the rec room of the Big House, all the senior camp leaders gathered around the ping-pong table.

At one end sat Chiron the centaur, his equine posterior collapsed into his magic wheelchair so he looked like a regular human. His curly brown hair and beard had more grey streaks than a few months ago. Deep lines etched his face.

“—things we can’t control,” he was saying. “Now let’s review our defences. Where do we stand?”

Clarisse from the Ares cabin sat forward. She was the only one in full armor, which was typical. Clarisse probably slept in her combat gear. As she spoke, she gestured with her dagger, which made the other counsellors lean away from her.

“Our defensive line is mostly solid,” she said. “The campers are as ready to fight as they’ll ever be. We control the beach. Our triremes are unchallenged on Long Island Sound, but those stupid giant eagles dominate our airspace. Inland, in all three directions, the barbarians have us completely cut off.”

“They’re Romans,” said Rachel Dare, doodling with a marker on the knee of her jeans. “Not barbarians.”

Clarisse pointed her dagger at Rachel. “What about their allies, huh? Did you see that tribe of two-headed men that arrived yesterday? Or the glowing red dog-headed guys with the big poleaxes? They look pretty barbaric to me. It would’ve been nice if you’d foreseen any of that, if your Oracle power didn’t break down when we needed it most!”

Rachel’s face turned as red as her hair. “That’s hardly my fault. Something is wrong with Apollo’s gifts of prophecy. If I knew how to fix it—”

“Don’t you yell at Rachel!” Michael Yew snapped. “It’s not her fault! Why don’t you fix the gift of the prophecy yourself—”

“Enough!” Will Solace said. He glared at his brother and put a hand on Clarisse’s wrist. He got her to lower her dagger. “Please stop fighting.”

Nico didn’t know why Will was at a head counselor meeting, but based on Michael and Clarisse’s interaction, he had a pretty good guess. For all his complaints about how useless he was, Will was a good peacekeeper.

“It’s not just Rachel,” Will continued. “Everyone in our cabin has been affected.”

Will looked the part of a head counselor which wasn’t surprising considering he had been a head counselor in the previous timeline. He held himself confidently and he spoke authoritatively. If anyone found that surprising, they didn’t show it. Probably they assumed it was from all Will’s time bossing people around in the infirmary.

The only thing off was Will’s eyes. His blue eyes were usually shining with the son of Apollo’s usual optimism and happiness, but now they were dull and red like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Something that was probably to do with Nico’s disappearance back in June and Will worrying about him transporting the statue. Maybe a little about Bianca.

Nico wanted to tell Will that he was fine. He wanted to send some kind of message, any kind of message, but this was a dream. It already happened.

“We don’t know what’s going on at Delphi,” Will continued. “Dad hasn’t answered any prayers, or appeared in any dreams. There’s something wrong.”

Across the table, Beckendorf grunted. “Probably this Roman dirt-wipe who’s leading the attack—Octavian what’s-his-name.

“If I was Apollo and my descendant was acting that way, I’d go into hiding out of shame,” Clarisse snorted.

“Maybe he’s not that bad,” Silena said. “I mean, any of us would defend our family, right?”

A flash of anger crossed Will’s face. “That anemic loser is not defending his family. What he’s doing is… is…”

“Calm down, Solace,” Clarisse said. “I thought you were supposed to be the calming presence.”

Will let out a breath. “Sorry.”

“Rachel,” Chiron asked, “has Ella offered any advice from the Sibylline Books?”

Rachel shook her head. “The poor thing is scared out of her wits. Harpies hate being imprisoned. Ever since the Romans surrounded us… well, she feels trapped. She knows Octavian means to capture her. It’s all Tyson and I can do to keep her from flying away.”

“Which would be suicide,” Allegra Nakamura piped up. “With those Roman eagles in the air, flying isn’t safe. I’ve already lost two pegasi.”

“Says the girl who flew off in the flying chariot,” Michael snapped.

Allegra flushed. “What would you have done in my place? Bianca was worried about her brother! And maybe you should be thankful I did go. I can confirm Reyna made it to Epirus to meet the Seven and I can tell you that Nico and Bianca are shadow traveling her and Coach Hedge back to Camp with the statue.”

“It was risky,” Ethan Nakamura said. He frowned at his cousin. “There’s other ways of communicating with them. What if the Romans saw you?”

“But they didn’t,” Allegra said.

“At least there’s some good news,” Rachel said loudly, over the two cousins. “Tyson brought some of his Cyclops friends to help out.”

Over by the refreshment table, Connor Stoll laughed. He had a fistful of Ritz crackers in one hand and a can of Easy Cheese in the other. “A dozen full-grown Cyclopes? That’s a lot of good news! Plus, Lou Ellen and the Hecate kids have been putting up magic barriers, and the whole Hermes cabin has been lining the hills with traps and snares and all kinds of nice surprises for the Romans!”

Beckendorf frowned. “Most of which you stole from Bunker Nine and the Hephaestus cabin.”

Clarisse grumbled in agreement. “They even stole the landmines from around the Ares cabin. How do you steal live landmines?”

“We commandeered them for the war effort.” Connor sprayed a glob of Easy Cheese into his mouth. “Besides, you guys have plenty of toys. You can share!”

Chiron turned to his left, where the satyr Grover Underwood sat in silence, fingering his reed pipes. “Grover? What news from the nature spirits?”

Grover heaved a sigh. “Even on a good day, it’s hard to organize nymphs and dryads. With Gaea stirring, they’re almost as disoriented as the gods. Katie and Miranda from the Demeter cabin are out there right now trying to help, but if the Earth Mother wakes…” He looked around the table nervously. “Well, I can’t promise the woods will be safe. Or the hills. Or the strawberry fields. Or—”

“Great.” Lou Ellen elbowed Clovis, who was starting to nod off. “So what do we do?”

“Attack.” Clarisse pounded the ping-pong table, which made everyone flinch. “The Romans are getting more reinforcements by the day. We know they plan to invade on August first. Why should we let them set the timetable? I can only guess they’re waiting to gather more forces. They already outnumber us. We should attack now, before they get any stronger; take the fight to them!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Michael said. “Are you really stupid enough to—”

Malcolm, the acting head counsellor for Athena, coughed into his fist. “Clarisse, I get your point. But have you studied Roman engineering? Their temporary camp is better defended than Camp Half-Blood. Attack them at their base, and we’d be massacred.”

“So we just wait?” Clarisse demanded. “Let them get all their forces prepared while Gaea gets closer to waking? I have Coach Hedge’s pregnant wife under my protection. I am not going to let anything happen to her. I owe Hedge my life. Besides, I’ve been training the campers more than you have, Malcolm. Their morale is low. Everybody is scared. If we’re under siege another nine days—”

“We should stick to Annabeth’s plan.” Connor Stoll looked about as serious as he ever did, despite the Easy Cheese around his mouth. “We have to hold out until she gets that magic Athena statue back here.”

Clarisse rolled her eyes. “You mean if that Roman praetor gets the statue back here. That’ll only happen if di Angelo one and two manage to get the statue back here. I mean, Solace, you’re the doctor here. How long will it take to get the statue back here?”

Everyone looked at Will.

Will swallowed. “It depends, I guess. Nico told me that it gets harder the more people he’s transporting. Bianca’s presence should give him some help, but it might take a few jumps and they’ll probably have to rest for a couple days in between.”

“And how likely is it that they won’t just turn into shadows halfway here?” Clarisse asked.

Will flinched.

“Shut up, Clarisse,” Michael snapped.

“Whatever,” Clarisse said. “Even if they do get here, we’re supposed to trust that the statue will bring peace? The statue arrives and suddenly the Romans lay down their weapons and start dancing around, throwing flowers?”

“Maybe not, but Annabeth thinks this is right,” Silena said.

“I’d feel better if we had a backup plan,” Clarisse said. “And greater numbers.”

Ethan shifted. “We could get more.”

“How?” Malcolm asked. “We can’t just send satyrs out to find kids. That’s wrong to drag them into this with barely a week or two of training.”

“I mean…” Ethan exchanged a look with Allegra. “Not all the demigods from Kronos’s army came to Camp after the war. Allegra and I are still friends with a few. We could reach out and see about getting extra help. Alabaster Torrington is a son of Hecate. He’s powerful. Whatever magic Lou Ellen’s done, he could triple it easily.”

“You want to ask for help from demigods that have tried to kill us?” Will asked, voice higher than normal. “That doesn’t strike you as a bad idea?”

Ethan gave Will a dry look. “You do realize a year ago I was trying to kill Percy Jackson, right? Now look at us. We’re all buddy-buddy.”

“I don’t think that’s helping,” Allegra muttered.

“Whatever,” Ethan said. “My point is, Alabaster might not like the Olympians, but he’d die for his friends. He’ll help us.” He narrowed his eyes at Will. “Do you know Alabaster?”

Will didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He crossed his arms. “He tried to recruit me. Multiple times. Then he tried to kill me.”

“He what?” Michael shouted.

“Look, call him if you want,” Will told Ethan. “I won’t put myself above the Camp and if he can help, then he should help. Just… tell me what you choose to do.”

“The bright side of that,” Lou Ellen said after a moment, “is that when he’s here, I will be his head counselor and if he tries to mess with my friend, I’ll kill him myself.”

Rachel set down her marker pen. “Great. But we have to try for peace. Unless we can unite the Greeks and Romans, the gods won’t be healed. Unless the gods are healed, there’s no way we can kill the giants. And unless we kill the giants—”

“Gaea wakes,” Connor said. “Game over. Look, Clarisse, Annabeth sent me a message from Tartarus. From fricking Tartarus. Anybody who can do that… hey, I listen to them.”

Clarisse opened her mouth to reply, but when she spoke it was Coach Hedge’s voice: “Nico, wake up. We’ve got problems.”

Chapter Text

NICO SAT UP SO QUICKLY he head-butted the satyr in the nose.

“OW! Jeez, kid, you got a hard noggin!”

“S-sorry, Coach.” Nico blinked, trying to get his bearings. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t see any immediate threat. They were camped on a sunny lawn in the middle of a public square. Beds of orange marigolds bloomed all around them. Reyna was sleeping curled up, with her two metal dogs at her feet. A stone’s throw away, little kids played tag around a white marble fountain. At a nearby pavement café, half a dozen people sipped coffee in the shade of patio umbrellas. A few delivery vans were parked along the edges of the square, but there was no traffic. The only pedestrians were a few families, probably locals, enjoying a warm afternoon.

The square itself was paved with cobblestones, edged with white stucco buildings and lemon trees. In the center stood the well-preserved shell of a Roman temple. Its square base stretched maybe fifty feet wide and ten feet tall, with an intact facade of Corinthian columns rising another twenty-five feet. And at the top of the colonnade…

Nico’s mouth went dry. “Oh, Styx.”

“Yeah,” Bianca said grimly. “Styx.”

The Athena Parthenos lay sideways along the tops of the columns like a nightclub singer sprawled across a piano. Lengthwise, she fitted almost perfectly, but with Nike in her extended hand she was a bit too wide. She looked like she might topple forward at any moment.

“What is she doing up there?” Nico asked.

“You tell me.” Hedge rubbed his bruised nose. “That’s where we appeared. Almost fell to our deaths, but luckily I’ve got nimble hooves. You were unconscious, hanging in your harness like a tangled paratrooper until we managed to get you down.”

“It was terrifying,” Bianca admitted.

Nico winced. “So… this isn’t Spain, right?”

“Portugal,” Hedge said. “You overshot. By the way, Reyna speaks Spanish; she does not speak Portuguese.”

“Luckily, between the two of us knowing Spanish and Italian, we managed to figure out this city is Évora,” Bianca said.

“Good news: it’s a sleepy little place,” Coach Hedge said. “Nobody’s bothered us. Nobody seems to notice the giant Athena sleeping on top of the Roman temple, which is called the Temple of Diana, in case you were wondering. And people here appreciate my street performances! I’ve made about sixteen euros.”

He picked up his baseball cap, which jangled with coins.

Nico felt ill. “Street performances?”

“A little singing,” the coach said. “A little martial arts. Some interpretive dance.”

“Wow.”

“I know! The Portuguese have taste. Anyway, I suppose this was a decent place to lie low for a couple of days.”

Nico stared at him. “A couple of days?”

“Hey, kid, we didn’t have much choice. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve been working yourself to death with all that shadow-jumping. We tried to wake you up last night. No dice.”

“So I’ve been asleep for—”

“About thirty-six hours. You needed it.”

Bianca looked at her brother. “He’s right. You know, you could let me take on more of the burden.”

“No!” Nico snapped. “Just… give me a minute.”

He took a second to organize his thoughts. So the dream lasted a long time. That was expected. Time in dreams was as normal as time in the Lotus Casino. Which was to say completely random. At least he was rested.

His stomach growled. Coach Hedge raised his eyebrows.

“You must be hungry,” said the satyr. “Either that, or your stomach speaks hedgehog. That was quite a statement in hedgehog.”

“Food would be good,” Nico agreed. “But first, what’s the bad news… I mean, aside from the statue being sideways? You said we had trouble.”

“Oh, right.” The coach pointed to a gated archway at the corner of the square. Standing in the shadows was a glowing, vaguely human figure outlined in grey flames. The spirit’s features were indistinct, but it seemed to be beckoning to Nico.

“Burning Man showed up a few minutes ago,” said Coach Hedge. “He doesn’t get any closer. When I tried to go over there, he disappeared. Not sure if he’s a threat, but he seems to be asking for you.”

“He disappeared when I went over too,” Bianca said. “I don’t know if he wanted the both of us or just you.”

“Just me, I think,” Nico said, standing up.

Bianca nodded sadly. “I figured as much. But…” she didn’t finish.

Coach Hedge promised he could guard Reyna for a little longer and Bianca agreed she could help.

Nico unsheathed his Stygian iron blade and approached the archway.

Normally ghosts didn’t scare him. (Assuming, of course, Gaea hadn’t encased them in shells of stone and turned them into killing machines.) After his experience with Minos, Nico realized that most specters held only as much power as you allowed them to have. They pried into your mind, using fear or anger or longing to influence you. Nico had learned to shield himself. Sometimes he could even turn the tables and bend ghosts to his will.

This ghost he remembered. His father had sent it for him.

Nico had mixed emotions about seeing his father on this quest. They didn’t quite have a relationship like the one they had in the original timeline. He wasn’t really sure what their relationship was. He wasn't sure what kind of relationship he wanted to have.

When he reached the ghost, he saw it wore a monk’s habit—sandals, woollen robes and a wooden cross around his neck. Grey flames swirled around him—burning his sleeves, blistering his face, turning his eyebrows to ashes. He seemed to be stuck in the moment of his immolation, like a black-and-white video on a permanent loop.

“You were burned alive,” Nico sensed. “Probably in the Middle Ages?”

The ghost’s face distorted in a silent scream of agony, but his eyes looked bored, even a little annoyed, as if the scream was just an automatic reflex he couldn’t control.

“What do you want of me?” Nico asked.

The ghost gestured for Nico to follow. It turned and walked through the open gateway. Nico glanced back at Coach Hedge. The satyr just made a shooing gesture like, Go. Do your Underworld thing.

Nico trailed the ghost through the streets of Évora.

They zigzagged through narrow cobblestone walkways, past courtyards with potted hibiscus trees and white stucco buildings with butterscotch trim and wrought-iron balconies. No one noticed the ghost, but the locals looked askance at Nico. A young girl with a fox terrier crossed the street to avoid him. Her dog growled, the hair on its back standing straight up like a dorsal fin.

The ghost led Nico to another public square, anchored at one end by a large square church with whitewashed walls and limestone arches. The ghost passed through the portico and disappeared inside.

Nico hesitated. Time to face dad.

He ducked through the doorway. His eyes were drawn to a side chapel, lit from within by eerie golden light. Carved over the door was a Portuguese inscription. Nico didn’t speak the language, but he remembered his childhood Italian well enough to glean the general meaning: We, the bones that are here, await yours.

“Cheery,” he muttered.

He entered the chapel. At the far end stood an altar, where the fiery wraith knelt in prayer, but Nico was more interested in the room itself. The walls were constructed of bones and skulls—thousands upon thousands, cemented together. Columns of bones held up a vaulted ceiling decorated with images of death. On one wall, like coats on a coat rack, hung the desiccated, skeletal remains of two people—an adult and a small child.

“A beautiful room, isn’t it?”

Nico turned to see his father. Like the wraith, Hades was dressed in the habit of a Franciscan monk, which Nico found vaguely disturbing. His black robes were tied at the waist with a simple white cord. His cowl was pushed back, revealing dark hair shorn close to the scalp and eyes that glittered like frozen tar. The god’s expression was calm and content, as if he’d just come home from a lovely evening strolling through the Fields of Punishment, enjoying the screams of the damned.

“Getting some redecorating ideas?” Nico asked. “Maybe you could do your dining room in mediaeval monk skulls.”

Hades arched an eyebrow. “I can never tell when you’re joking.”

If you were around more, maybe , Nico thought.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Hades traced his fingers along the nearest column, leaving bleached white marks on the old bones.

“You’re a hard mortal to find, my son. For several days I’ve been searching. When the scepter of Diocletian exploded… well, that got my attention.”

“Yeah, well, it was old,” Nico said.

Hades nodded. “Yes. A relic that old, I’m surprised you got two uses out of it. The explosion gave me some clarity. It allowed me to pinpoint your location. I was hoping to speak to you in Pompeii, but it is so… well, Roman. This chapel was the first place where my presence was strong enough that I could appear to you as myself—by which I mean Hades, god of the dead, not split with that other manifestation.”

Hades breathed in the stale dank air. “I am very drawn to this place. The remains of five thousand monks were used to build the Chapel of Bones. It serves as a reminder that life is short and death is eternal. I feel focused here. Even so, I only have a few moments.”

Story of our relationship, Nico thought. Both our relationships. You only ever have a few moments.

“So tell me, Father. What do you want?”

Hades clasped his hands together in the sleeves of his robe. “Can you entertain the notion that I might be here to help you, not simply because I want something?”

The corners of Nico’s mouth twitched up. “I can entertain the notion that you might be here for multiple reasons.”

The god frowned. “I do not understand why you find that so funny.” He cleared his throat. “You know Gaea’s hunter is Orion.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s my guess,” Nico said carefully. “He’s a hunter. He was born to oppose Artemis and Apollo. He was the first male to join the Hunt. Something went wrong and he ended up dead.”

“And now he has returned as a loyal son of Gaea, ready to do her bidding,” Hades said. “He is driven by bitterness and anger.”

“Dangerous feelings to make decisions on,” Nico said. “How do we stop him?”

“You cannot,” Hades said. “Your only hope is to outrun him, accomplish your quest before he reaches you. Apollo or Artemis might be able to slay him, arrows against arrows, but the twins are in no condition to aid you. Even now, Orion has your scent. His hunting pack is almost upon you. You won’t have the luxury of more rest from here to Camp Half-Blood.”

A belt seemed to tighten around Nico’s ribs. He wasn’t sure how soon the wolves would be here, but he’d left Coach Hedge and Bianca on guard duty with Reyna asleep. If something happened to them while he was chatting with his father…

“I need to get back to my companions.”

“Indeed,” Hades said. “But there is more. Your sister…” Hades faltered. As always, the subject of Bianca lay between them like a loaded gun—deadly, easy to reach, impossible to ignore. Nico wondered if Hades knew Bianca was with him. “I mean your other sister, Hazel… she has discovered that one of the Seven will die. She may try to prevent this. In doing so, she may lose sight of her priorities.”

Nico wasn’t really in the mood to dwell on Leo’s death and resurrection.

“Is Hazel alright?” he asked.

“For the moment.”

“And the others? They’re alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Hades said. His dark eyes bore into Nico’s. “I tell you this because you are my son. You know that some deaths cannot be prevented. Some deaths should not be prevented. When the time comes, you may need to act.”

Nico always hated that. It was true enough, and he’d based the rest of his life on this line. He couldn’t prevent necessary deaths. During the Titan war, Percy and Annabeth had wanted to save Luke. Nico understood that, but the prophecy said Luke would die. And Luke did have to die in order to stop Kronos. Even Bianca’s death. Nico had wanted to do everything he could to prevent Bianca from dying, but again, the prophecy made it so.

Some deaths they stopped. Beckendorf did not have to die in order to win the Titan war. Silena Beauregard did not have to die to win the war either. Michael Yew’s survival would not affect the collapse of the Williamsburg Bridge.

But Nico didn’t want to sit back and watch Leo Valdez go out in a blaze of fire—even if it was only for a few days.

“My son.” Hades’s tone was almost gentle. “Whatever happens, you have earned my respect. You brought honor to our house when we stood together against Kronos in Manhattan. You risked my wrath to help the Jackson boy—guiding him to the River Styx, pleading with me to raise the armies of Erebos to assist him. Never before have I been so harassed by one of my sons. I nearly blasted you to cinders.”

“I didn’t do it for Percy,” Nico said. He paused. “Maybe a little. He’s my friend. But I did it because the whole world was in danger and it was the right thing to do.”

Hades allowed himself the faintest smile, but there was nothing cruel in his eyes. “I can entertain the possibility that you acted for multiple reasons—whatever those reasons are. My children are so rarely happy. I am glad to see you are an exception.” He glanced at Nico. “You are happy?”

“I am,” Nico said. He hesitated. “Dad? Do you know… Can you sense where Bianca is?”

Hades’s eyes flicked up and looked in what Nico assumed was the direction Bianca was in.

“I know you can’t acknowledge her,” Nico said. “Just like you can’t acknowledge Hazel. But she’s happy too.”

Over at the altar, the fiery ghost rose. He approached, burning and screaming silently, his eyes conveying some urgent message.

“Ah,” Hades said, seemingly relieved to change the subject. “This is Brother Paloan. He’s one of hundreds who were burned alive in the square near the old Roman temple. The Inquisition had its headquarters there, you know. At any rate, he suggests you leave now. You have very little time before the wolves arrive.”

Styx, Styx, Styx, Nico cursed.

Hades flicked his hand. The ghost of Brother Paloan disappeared. “My son, what you are attempting—shadow-travel across the world, carrying the statue of Athena—it may well destroy you.”

“Thanks for the encouragement.”

Hades placed his hands briefly on Nico’s shoulders. Nico relaxed under his hands.

“I will see you again,” Hades promised. “I will prepare rooms for you and your sister at the palace in case you do not survive. Perhaps your chambers would look good decorated with the skulls of monks.”

“Now I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

Hades’s eyes glittered as his form began to fade. “Then perhaps we are alike in some important ways.”

The god vanished.

Suddenly the chapel felt oppressive—thousands of hollow eye sockets staring at Nico. We, the bones that are here, await yours.

He hurried out of the church, hoping he remembered the way back to his friends.

Chapter Text

“WOLVES?” REYNA ASKED.

They were eating dinner from the nearby pavement café.

Despite Hades’s warning to hurry back, Nico had found nothing much changed at the camp. Reyna had just awoken. The Athena Parthenos still lay sideways across the top of the temple. Bianca and Reyna watched Coach Hedge entertain a few locals with tap dancing and martial arts, occasionally singing into his megaphone, though nobody seemed to understand what he was saying.

Nico wished the coach hadn’t brought the megaphone. Not only was it loud and obnoxious but also, for no reason Nico understood, it occasionally blurted out random Darth Vader lines from Star Wars—thank you, Will—or yelled, “THE COW GOES MOO!”

As the four of them sat on the lawn to eat, Reyna seemed alert and rested. She, Bianca, and Coach Hedge listened as Nico described his dreams, then his meeting with Hades at the Chapel of Bones. Nico held back a few personal details from his talk with his father.

When he mentioned Orion and the wolves that were supposedly on their way, Reyna frowned.

“Most wolves are friendly to Romans,” she said. “I’ve never heard stories about Orion hunting with a pack.”

Nico finished his ham sandwich. He eyed the plate of pastries and was surprised to find he still had an appetite. “I don’t like it. I think we should leave as soon as possible.”

“Which isn’t until it’s dark enough for shadows,” Bianca pointed out. “That’s hours away.”

Coach Hedge stuffed an issue of Guns & Ammo into his bag. “And the Athena Parthenos is still thirty feet in the air. Gonna be fun hauling you guys and your gear to the top of that temple.”

Nico tried a pastry. The lady at the café had called them farturas. They looked like spiral doughnuts and tasted great—just the right combination of crispy, sugary and buttery—but they were another reminder of what should have been. He remembered thinking about how Percy would have made a joke out of the name.

America has donuts, Percy would have said. Portugal has fart-nuts.

Nico would have liked to come back to Portugal sometime with the rest of the Argo II crew. Maybe they would have made a whole return tour trip out of this quest one day when they were older, more experienced, happily settled down in New Rome.

Suddenly his fartura didn’t taste so great.

“So…” Reyna’s voice jarred him from his thoughts. “Will Camp Half-Blood wait for August first, or will they attack?”

“They’ll wait,” Nico said. “It would be suicide to attack the Romans on the offensive. I think in this case, whichever side plays defense is going to be the victor. Either the Greeks attack and are decimated, or the Romans attack and the Greeks surprise them. Percy already proved you guys aren’t prepared for the Greek fighting style during War Games. And that was one Greek against two cohorts.”

Reyna looked grim. “If we make it through this alive, that’s something we should fix. Perhaps we should send representatives from each Camp to teach the other about the different fighting styles.”

“Great idea, but we should table that for after,” Bianca said.

“Agreed,” Reyna said. “How soon can we get back?”

“Not soon enough,” Nico said. “We’ll make it before the deadline, but…”

Coach Hedge looked up from counting the change in his baseball cap. “And you’re sure Clarisse said Mellie was okay?”

“Yes, Coach. Clarisse is taking good care of her.”

“That’s a relief. I don’t like what Grover said about Gaea whispering to the nymphs and dryads. If the nature spirits turn evil… that’s not going to be pretty.”

Nico had never heard of such a thing happening. Then again, Gaea hadn’t been awake since the dawn of humanity.

Reyna took a bite of her pastry. Her chain mail glittered in the afternoon sun. “I wonder about these wolves… Is it possible we’ve misunderstood the message? The goddess Lupa has been very quiet. Perhaps she is sending us aid. The wolves could be from her—to defend us from Orion and his pack.”

The hopefulness in her voice was as thin as gauze. Nico didn’t want to rip it, but Reyna couldn’t be further from the truth.

“I don’t think so,” Nico said.

Reyna sighed. “Wishful thinking, I suppose. There’s something else,” she said. “I haven’t had any luck contacting my sister, Hylla. It makes me uneasy that both the wolves and the Amazons have gone silent. If something has happened on the West Coast… I fear the only hope for either camp lies with us. We must return the statue soon. That means the greatest burden is on you, son of Hades.”

“I can take some of it too,” Bianca said irritably. “Nico, let me help you.”

“Maybe,” Nico said. “The next jump will be across the Atlantic.”

“I’ll lend you both some of my strength then,” Reyna said. “And once we’re back in the U.S., we should encounter fewer monsters. I might even be able to get help from retired legionnaires along the eastern seaboard. They are obliged to aid any Roman demigod who calls on them.”

Hedge grunted. “If Octavian hasn’t already won them over. In which case, you might find yourself arrested for treason.”

“Coach,” Reyna scolded, “not helping.”

“Hey, just sayin’. Personally, I wish we could stay in Évora longer. Good food, good money and so far no sign of these figurative wolves—”

Reyna’s dogs sprang to their feet.

“Dammit, Coach,” Nico sighed.

In the distance, howls pierced the air. Before Nico could stand, wolves appeared from every direction—huge black beasts leaping from the roofs, surrounding their encampment.

The largest of them padded forward. The alpha wolf stood on his haunches and began to change. His forelegs grew into arms. His snout shrank into a pointy nose. His grey fur morphed into a cloak of woven animal pelts. He became a tall, wiry man with a haggard face and glowing red eyes. A crown of finger bones circled his greasy black hair.

“Ah, little satyr…” The man grinned, revealing pointed fangs. “Your wish is granted! You will stay in Évora forever, because, sadly for you, my figurative wolves are literally wolves.”

Chapter Text

THE DOWNSIDE TO KNOWING THE FUTURE? Knowing exactly which events wouldn’t change no matter what.

It didn’t matter if Nico knew that Lycaon would show up because until Lycaon showed up, Nico couldn’t shadow travel because the shadow Nico used to shadow travel was Lycaon’s shadow as he died.

“Lycaon,” Nico growled.

The grey man laughed. “Indeed. Orion has employed me to assist him in his hunt.”

“Lycaon?” Reyna asked. “The first werewolf?”

Lycaon gave her a mock bow. “Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, praetor of Rome. One of Lupa’s whelps! I’m pleased you recognize me. No doubt, I am the stuff of your nightmares.”

“The stuff of my indigestion, perhaps.” From her belt pouch, Reyna produced a foldable camping knife. She flicked it open and the wolves snarled, backing away. “I never travel without a silver weapon.”

Styx, Nico should have brought something silver. What was the point of foreknowledge if you didn’t actually get to do anything with it?

Lycaon bared his teeth. “Would you keep a dozen wolves and their king at bay with a pocketknife? I heard you were brave, filia Romana. I did not realize you were foolhardy.”

Reyna’s dogs crouched, ready to spring. The coach gripped his baseball bat, though for once he didn’t look anxious to swing.

Nico reached for the hilt of his sword.

“Don’t bother,” muttered Coach Hedge. “These guys are only hurt by silver or fire. I remember them from Pikes Peak. They’re annoying.”

Yeah, but it would make him feel better if he was able to wield his sword.

“And I remember you, Gleeson Hedge.” The werewolf’s eyes glowed lava red. “My pack will be delighted to have goat meat for dinner.”

Hedge snorted. “Bring it on, mangy boy. The Hunters of Artemis are on their way right now, just like last time! That’s a temple of Diana over there, you idiot. You’re on their home turf!”

Again the wolves snarled and widened their circle. Some glanced nervously towards the rooftops.

Lycaon only glared at the coach. “A nice try, but I’m afraid that temple has been misnamed. I passed through here during Roman times. It was actually dedicated to the Emperor Augustus. Typical demigod vanity. Regardless, I’ve been much more careful since our last encounter. If the Hunters were anywhere close by, I would know.”

Maybe he could stall Lycaon for a few hours?

“So you’ve got us,” Nico said. “What are you waiting for?”

Lycaon studied him like a new type of meat in a butcher’s display case. “Nico di Angelo… son of Hades. I’ve heard of you. I’m sorry I can’t kill you promptly, but I promised my employer Orion that I would detain you until he arrives. No worries. He should be here in a few moments. Once he’s done with you, I shall spill your blood and mark this place as my territory for ages to come!”

Well. there went the idea of stalling.

Bianca gritted her teeth. “Demigod blood. The blood of Olympus.”

“Of course!” Lycaon said. “Spilled upon the ground, especially sacred ground, demigod blood has many uses. With the proper incantations, it can awaken monsters or even gods. It can cause new life to spring up or make a place barren for generations. Alas, your blood will not wake Gaea herself. That honor is reserved for your friends aboard the Argo II. But fear not. Your death will be almost as painful as theirs.”

The grass started dying around Nico’s feet. The marigold beds withered. Barren ground, he thought. Sacred ground.

He remembered the thousands of skeletons in the Chapel of Bones. He recalled what Hades had said about this public square, where the Inquisition had burned hundreds of people alive. This was an ancient city. How many dead lay in the ground beneath his feet?

The answer was a lot, and with Bianca here, Nico knew they could probably raise a whole army and a half worth of bones.

“Coach,” he said, “you can climb?”

Hedge scoffed. “I’m half goat. Of course I can climb!”

“Get up to the statue and secure the rigging. Make a rope ladder and drop it down for us.”

“Uh, but the pack of wolves—”

“Reyna,” Nico said, “you and your dogs will have to cover our retreat.”

The praetor nodded grimly. “Understood.”

Lycaon howled with laughter. “Retreat to where, son of Hades? There is no escape. You cannot kill us!”

“Maybe not,” Nico said. “But I can slow you down.” He glanced at Bianca. “A little help?”

A wide grin spread across his sister’s face. “Absolutely.”

Nico spread his hands as Bianca did the same. The ground erupted.

It worked as good as last time. A wall of bones burst skyward—hundreds of femurs, ribs, and fibulas entangling the wolves, forming a spiky briar patch of human remains. Most of the wolves were hopelessly trapped. Some writhed and gnashed their teeth, trying to free themselves from their haphazard cages. Lycaon himself was immobilized in a cocoon of rib bones, but that didn’t stop him from screaming curses.

“You worthless children!” he roared. “I will rip the flesh from your limbs!”

“Coach, go!” Nico said.

The satyr sprinted towards the temple. He made the top of the podium in a single leap and scrambled up the left pillar.

Two wolves broke free from the thicket of bones. Reyna threw her knife and impaled one in the neck. Her dogs pounced on the other. Aurum’s fangs and claws slipped harmlessly off the wolf’s hide, but Argentum brought the beast down.

Argentum’s head was still bent sideways from the fight in Pompeii. His left ruby eye was still missing, but he managed to sink his fangs into the wolf’s scruff. The wolf dissolved into a puddle of shadow.

Thank goodness for silver dogs, Nico thought.

Reyna drew her sword. She scooped a handful of silver coins from Hedge’s baseball cap, grabbed duct tape from the coach’s supply bag and began taping coins around her blade. The girl was nothing if not inventive.

“Go!” she told Nico. “I’ll cover you!”

“Nico, come on!” Bianca shouted from the base of the temple.

The wolves struggled, causing the bone thicket to crack and crumble. Lycaon freed his right arm and began smashing through his prison of rib cages.

“I will flay you alive!” he promised. “I will add your pelt to my cloak!”

Nico ran, pausing just long enough to grab Reyna’s silver pocket knife from the ground. He wasn’t a mountain goat, but he found a set of stairs at the back of the temple and raced to the top. He reached the base of the columns and squinted up at Coach Hedge, who was precariously perched at the feet of the Athena Parthenos, unravelling ropes and knotting a ladder.

“Hurry!” Nico yelled.

“Oh, really?” the coach called down. “I thought we had tons of time!”

“This is no time for yelling at each other!” Bianca said.

Down in the square, more wolves broke free of their bone restraints. Reyna swatted them aside with her modified duct-tape-coin-sword, but a handful of change wasn’t going to hold back a pack of werewolves for long. Aurum snarled and snapped in frustration, unable to hurt the enemy. Argentum did his best, sinking his claws into the throat of another wolf, but the silver dog was already damaged. Soon he’d be hopelessly outnumbered.

Lycaon freed both his arms. He started pulling his legs from their ribcage restraints. There were only a few seconds until he would be loose.

“Reyna, get up here!” Nico yelled.

She slammed another wolf in the head and ran. In mid-stride, she flicked her sword, which elongated into a javelin, then used it to launch herself up like a pole-vaulter. She landed next to Nico.

“Holy what?” Bianca yelped. “How did you do that?”

Reyna didn’t answer her. “What’s the plan?” she asked, not even out of breath.

“Show-off,” Nico said goodnaturedly.

A knotted rope fell from above.

“Climb, ya silly non-goats!” Hedge yelled.

“Both of you go,” Nico said. “Once you’re up there, hang on tight to the rope.”

“Nico—”

“Do it!”

Reyna’s javelin shrank back into a sword. She sheathed it and began to climb, scaling the column despite her armor and her supplies. Bianca gave Nico a worried look.

“I have a plan, just go,” he said, pushing her towards the rope.

“Don’t you dare get yourself killed,” Bianca said seriously.

Nico tried for a grin. “Who me?”

Bianca didn’t really look very reassured as she started scaling the column after Reyna.

Down in the plaza, Aurum and Argentum were nowhere to be seen. Either they’d retreated or they’d been destroyed.

Lycaon broke free of his bone cage with a triumphant howl. “You will suffer, children of Hades!”

Nico palmed the pocketknife. “Come get me, you mutt! Or do you have to stay like a good dog until your master shows up?”

Lycaon sprang through the air, his claws extended, his fangs bared. Nico wrapped his free hand around the rope and concentrated, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck.

As the wolf king fell on him, Nico thrust the silver knife into Lycaon’s chest. All around the temple, wolves howled as one.

The wolf king sank his claws into Nico’s arms. His fangs stopped less than an inch from Nico’s face. Nico ignored his own pain and jabbed the pocketknife to the hilt between Lycaon’s ribs.

“Be useful, dog,” he snarled. “Back to the shadows.”

Lycaon’s eyes rolled up in his head. He dissolved into a pool of inky darkness.

Then several things happened at once. The outraged pack of wolves surged forward. From a nearby rooftop, a booming voice yelled, “STOP THEM!”

Nico heard the unmistakable sound of a large bow being drawn taut.

Then he melted into the pool of Lycaon’s shadow, taking his friends and the Athena Parthenos with him—slipping into cold ether with no idea where he would emerge.

Will is definitely going to kill me, Nico thought.

Chapter Text

ANNABETH NEVER IMAGINED her life would go this way.

Sure, she figured when she died it would probably be fighting monsters. It was kind of a Supernatural thing. There was no escape from the life of a demigod.

But she thought that she would at least make it into her adult years.

Here she was in Tartarus surrounded by a horde of angry monsters ready to kill her for getting rid of their only escape path.

When the twelve minutes of holding down the button were up, the Doors of Death had disappeared with a small pop that was barely audible over the roar of the battle.

For twelve minutes, Percy fought like a demon. He slayed telkhines and Cyclopes and dracaena. He sent bursts of Underworld water at groups of monsters and turned them into stuttering messes or mindwiped idiots. Phlegethon and Styx water turned monsters to dust while Riptide’s flashing blade did the same.

The Maeonian drakon helped. It stampeded through the crowd of monsters sending some fleeing in panic or trampling them to dust.

Annabeth would be lying if she said that she wasn’t hoping all the monsters would be dead within twelve minutes. Fighting an army of monsters surrounding you in their home turf wasn’t exactly something that was high on her to-do list.

Unfortunately, as the demigod luck remained consistent, Percy and the Maeonian drakon barely made a dent in the army.

Annabeth drew her sword and knife and charged into the fray.

The fight was a blur.

Annabeth didn’t remember seeing any arai. Perhaps they had fled when the Doors disappeared or perhaps Percy had already taken care of all of them. Either way, she tried to keep her eyes opened for the curse spirits so she could avoid them. Without Bob here to heal any injuries they sustained from the curses, it was probably best if they didn’t kill anymore arai.

The Maeonian drakon was gone. Minutes—hours?—after Annabeth joined the fight it was ripped in half by a Cyclops.

Another thing. Time was hard to tell. Already time moved strangely in Tartarus. They could have been fighting for minutes, hours, days, or even weeks already.

“Annabeth!” Percy yelled, not looking away from the monster he was fighting.

Annabeth used her knife to stab a telkhine and her sword to cut down an empousa. “What?”

“You trust me, right?”

“What kind of question is that?”

Percy sent a quick glance her way. “Uh… I have an idea.”

“You do? What?” Annabeth would gladly welcome some ideas from Percy. It wasn’t like she had a million ideas bursting from her head at the moment.

“Hold your breath.” Percy was suddenly right next to her. His hand was gripping her left wrist tightly.

“Hold my breath?”

Percy lunged forward and suddenly Annabeth knew why she was supposed to hold her breath and why Percy asked if she trusted him. She wasn’t sure which river it was, but somehow they had ended up on the banks of one of the rivers and Percy’s brilliant idea was to catch a ride upriver.

They plunged into the icy water.

Annabeth’s head broke the surface. She glanced at Percy. He looked exhausted, but despite that, they were zooming through the water against the current.

“It’s the Cocytus,” Percy managed to choke out. “Just… stay positive.”

The voices of misery threatened to drag them under, but Annabeth didn’t think there was any way she could possibly be miserable. They had helped their friends escape Tartarus and now they had managed to escape the angry army of monsters. Things were looking up.

Of course, that was something no demigod should ever think.

She should have expected what happened next.

When they crawled out of the river, Annabeth wanted to lay there and rest. But she knew that would be a bad idea. They had escaped the monsters for now, but that didn’t mean they were safe.

“We should keep moving,” Percy said, teeth chattering. “Find the Phlegethon again. Otherwise we’re going to die of hypothermia.”

Annabeth sighed and pushed herself to her feet. “Can you sense it?”

Percy squinted into the haze of Tartarus. “Kind of. It’s a little funky because it’s not really normal water, but I think I can find a general direction.” He pointed off to the right. “That’s the closest.”

“Great,” Annabeth said. “Let’s get going. The sooner we find the Phlegethon the sooner we can start looking for the Labyrinth.” She held her hand out for Percy to take.

He laced his fingers through hers immediately. They started walking into the gloom.

“Annabeth,” he said hesitantly.

She looked over. “What?”

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

“It better not be that you’re going to get me out, but keep yourself stuck here.”

Percy managed a small smile. “No. It’s not that. Do you remember when we went on the quest to rescue Alex and Artemis?”

“How could I forget?”

That was true. How could she? That was the quest that she wasn’t supposed to have gone on because it was Annabeth that was supposed to have been captured by Dr. Thorn. Not Alex. There wasn’t a day that went by that Annabeth didn’t feel guilty about that. Had Alex not been captured, it probably would have saved Magnus and Alex a lot of trouble.

“And you remember I talked to Nereus?”

Annabeth frowned. “The smelly old man? Yes, I remember. Didn’t you ask him about Bessie? I always thought that was strange because you knew about Bessie, but I figured no one else knew that you knew.”

“I didn’t ask him about Bessie,” Percy said. “I mean, I did, but he agreed to give that answer because I asked him to trick you guys. The real question I asked was what we had to do about Magnus and Alex getting mixed up in all this. Apollo told me I should ask that.”

A chill ran down Annabeth’s spine and it wasn’t because of the water still soaking her clothes. Whatever answer Nereus had given Percy clearly wasn’t good.

“And?”

Percy hesitated. “And he said our fates are a part of each other. Our strings have been woven together. He also said that our two worlds meeting—our three worlds meeting really—didn’t bode well for the future.”

“What else is new?” Annabeth sighed. “Not like the future is all it’s cracked up to be.”

Percy’s lips twitched. “That wasn’t all. He said that they—Magnus and Alex—would fight our enemies either with us or for us. Then he said that our friends would help fight Ragnarok, but he wasn’t really clear on our part in that.”

Annabeth pursed her lips. “We might not make it out of here.”

“That’s what I thought,” Percy said quietly. “I just… I kept forgetting about it. I wanted to tell you, but every time I remembered it was not a good time to talk about it. Or we were on the opposite ends of the country.”

Annabeth let out a breath. “It doesn’t change anything. We’re still going to fight to find a way out of here. After that, of course I’m going to help my cousin with his war. He helped us and I’ll be damned if I don’t do the same.”

They stopped walking.

Annabeth leaned over to kiss Percy’s cheek. “But thank you for telling me. I’ve had my suspicions that our fates are more intertwined than we thought. This confirms it.”

“I want a long retirement after that,” Percy said. “I think I deserve it. I mean, fighting Ragnarok while I’m getting ready for SAT and DSTOMP?”

Annabeth giggled. “That does sound pretty bad. Maybe we’ll take a gap year and just… do nothing.”

“Do you think my dad will let us lock ourselves in a room in his palace?” Percy mused. “Or maybe we could rent like a hotel in Olympus or something. Imagine that. Peace and quiet and no monsters.”

“Peace and quiet? No monsters? What’s that like?” Annabeth joked. "Oh gods, if we went to Olympus, I'd have to put up with Hera for a whole year."

Percy smiled, but then his face became serious again. He slowed to a stop as they approached the banks of the Phlegethon. “Fire water?”

Annabeth groaned. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Together, they knelt down to scoop up some of the fire and pour it down their throats.

The water burned, but Annabeth could feel it warming her whole body. The water from the Cocytus steamed off her body until she was dry. The aches from the monster fight earlier started to disappear.

Unfortunately, the good luck didn’t last long. Something pricked at the back of Annabeth’s neck.

“Percy?” she whispered. “Shouldn’t we have come across a monster or two on our way here?”

Percy tensed. Before he could stand up, a voice interrupted them.

“Monsters rarely come out this far,” a feminine voice said. “Unless of course, they’re looking to die.”

Percy and Annabeth turned around to see a girl standing there. She looked completely normal which was a shock. She had dark hair and pale skin. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say this girl was related to Thalia Grace and Nico di Angelo. The girl had Thalia’s punk style clothes combined with Nico’s affinity for the color black and skulls.

The only thing that looked off was the girl’s legs. One was shaggy and covered in fur while the other was made of bronze.

Percy drew his sword. 

“Put that away,” the girl—empousa—snapped. “If you don’t want to die, come with me.”

“Excuse me?” Percy said. “If we… don’t want to die?”

The empousa rolled her eyes. “Demigods. Yes, if you don’t want to die, come with me.”

“Where exactly are we supposed to follow you?” Annabeth asked

The empousa glanced at her. “A camp of sorts. You’ll be protected from the monsters if you come with me. Any monster within the camp’s borders… well, we won’t harm you.”

“And we’re just supposed to trust you?” Percy said. “Why shouldn’t we just kill you?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done so already,” the empousa said. She looked sad for a moment. “Besides… I told you. The only monsters that come this way are the ones looking to die.”

“Looking to die?” Annabeth repeated.

The empousa gave them a wry smile. “I guess camp isn’t exactly the right word. What would you mortals call it? Assisted living? Nursing home? Hospice? The only monsters that come here are ones looking to enjoy whatever time they have left before they fade away.”

Chapter Text

A CAMP FOR MONSTERS? That was a new one. But the part about them waiting to fade away was unexpected.

“Suicidal monsters?” Percy asked.

Annabeth elbowed him.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The empousa shrugged. “You didn’t think mortals had a monopoly on mental health did you? Sure, you heroes fight monsters every day and have horrible, tragic experiences that no one could possibly understand, but you don’t have the life we have.” She glanced back the way Percy and Annabeth had come. “Follow me. We need to get within the borders. I’ll explain more on the way.”

Annabeth wasn’t ready to take orders from an empousa, but she was curious. “Fine. What’s your name?”

“Elaine,” the empousa said. A flash of sadness crossed her face before it was pushed away. “Come.” She started off in the direction of what Annabeth presumed was the camp.

Percy and Annabeth had no choice but to follow.

“What did you mean by the life you have?” Annabeth asked.

Elaine sighed. “From the first day I was born—existed, whatever—I knew I had one job. Kill demigods, serve Hecate. For one thousand years, I did that. No questions asked. But it didn’t matter how many demigods I killed. I always ended up back here. Tartarus. For one thousand years, I killed and was killed and I kept coming back for more. Do you know how many ways you can kill someone with a sword? I don’t. I lost count after thirty-eight.” She took a shuddering breath. “I have died in so many different ways over the years. That’s not normal. That changes a person. At least you heroes only die once. At least you are rewarded with paradise.”

After that Elaine marched slightly ahead of them.

Annabeth never thought about the monsters. It really never occurred to her that monsters were capable of feeling anything other than rage or bloodlust. How many times had she met a friendly monster? One that didn’t want to kill her?

Tyson, her brain reminded her. Ella.

That was different, she wanted to protest. But was it? Tyson was, by definition, a monster. He was a Cyclops. So was Ella. She was a harpy. After meeting them, how could Annabeth say there wasn’t a single good monster or a monster with feelings?

“So this camp,” Annabeth called. “It’s like a safe haven?”

Elaine slowed. “Kind of. Like I said, no one comes out this far unless they want to die. A few of us just want a break for a couple hundred years. There’s a strict no killing policy. It’s your own business if you want to fade away, but you can’t just kill others because you’re done with life. And of course, monsters who just want to wait out a few centuries can’t just kill those monsters for the fun of it. Our patron protects us and takes care of us.”

“Your patron?” Percy asked. “Gaea?”

Elaine shook her head. “Not Gaea. I’ll take you to meet her. I have a feeling she’ll be interested in your story.”

The camp—or whatever it was—was amazing. That’s all Annabeth could think.

Upon entering the gates, she had freaked out at the number of monsters walking around. But they didn’t pay her or Percy any attention.

A Cyclops called out, “Hi, Elaine.”

“Hello, Greggory,” Elaine greeted. “How’s Sarah?”

“Good, good,” Greggory the Cyclops said with a smile. “We’re thinking about leaving soon. Might try looking for the forges.”

“Good luck,” Elaine said.

It was bizarre to see monsters interacting in such normal ways, but also… refreshing? It made Annabeth miss Camp Half-Blood.

“Who’s this?” Greggory asked.

Elaine looked at Percy and Annabeth. “New friends. Maybe. They’re the ones who unchained the Doors.”

Percy’s hand tightened around Annabeth’s when Elaine said that.

Greggory let out a laugh. “Oh man, I bet they were mad about that. How’d you survive the wrath of Tartarus?”

“What is happening?” Percy whispered.

Annabeth tried for a smile. “Fought our way out.”

“I’m taking them to see mom,” Elaine explained. “She’ll want to meet them.”

Greggory nodded. “She will, yeah. Well, good luck with that.” He walked off.

Elaine turned to Percy and Annabeth. “Greggory’s a friend. Him and his wife Sarah have been here since before me. Guess you heard, they might be leaving soon. Like I said, some of us are passing through.”

“You’re taking us to see your mom?” Percy asked.

“We call her mom,” Elaine said, bringing them up the steps to a cozy looking cabin. “You’d probably know her as Leto.” She opened the door. “Mom? I brought some guests.”

The inside of the cabin reminded Annabeth of Damasen’s hut. She briefly wondered what had happened to that hut when Damasen left.

A woman was sitting in a chair. She had bronze skin and long golden hair. She wore a white dress.

“Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase,” the woman said. She stood up. “I’ve been expecting you. Welcome to my home. I am Leto.”

Chapter Text

WHEN THEY HAD FIRST MET HERA all those years ago in the Labyrinth, Percy had told Annabeth that he thought Hera looked like the ultimate soccer mom. Regardless of the issues she had with Hera, Annabeth thought that description was better suited for Leto. Or better yet, Leto was like the grandma who bakes you cookies and makes sure her grandbabies are doing just fine.

“Apollo and Artemis’s mom,” Annabeth said.

Leto beamed. “My children, yes! I do miss them so much, but I’m doing important work here. I’ll have to go visit them soon though. But that’s not why you’re here. Elaine, be a dear and fetch us some sandwiches. There should be a platter in the kitchen.”

Elaine nodded and hurried off through a doorway.

“She’s a sweetheart,” Leto said. “So sad what happened to her girl.”

“What?” Percy asked.

But Leto ignored him. She clasped her hands together. “Welcome, welcome. I understand you’re looking for the entrance to the Labyrinth? Of course I can help you find it, no need to ask. Mothers always do what’s best for their children. That’s why I started this camp, you know. I spent some time in the mortal world and thought, The mortals have safe places, why shouldn’t the monsters get the same? So I ended up here.”

“You protect monsters while they fade away,” Annabeth said.

Leto frowned. “Is that what Elaine said? She’s right, of course, but I do much more than that. Sometimes all you need is a mother to look after you. I certainly can’t stop them from fading if they wish that to happen, but I do my best to listen and heal them in ways only a mother can do.”

Elaine returned with a plate of sandwiches. Leto gestured for them all to take a seat.

Percy and Annabeth gingerly sat down on a comfy loveseat. Elaine draped herself over the armrests of a single-seater couch while Leto returned to the seat she had been sitting in before they arrived.

“You closed the Doors of Death,” Leto said, picking up a ham sandwich. “Good job. Oh, go on, dears. I have ham, turkey, PB and J, veggie.”

Percy reached for a turkey sandwich while Annabeth chose a PB and J.

“What was I saying? Oh, yes, the Doors of Death,” Leto said. “Excellent work. Now you just need to find a way out before August first.”

“You said you can help us?” Percy asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

Leto frowned. “Swallow, dear. Yes, I can help. In fact, the Labyrinth entrance isn’t very far from here.”

Annabeth sat up. “It’s not? You mean, we can get there soon and be out in time to help our friends?”

“Well that depends,” Leto said. “Already it’s been quite a few days since your friends left the House of Hades. And once you reach the Labyrinth, you’ll have to find your way out.”

“We have a way out,” Annabeth said. She held her backpack on her lap. “I have a map and I brought Ariadne’s string.”

Elaine raised her eyebrows. “A map? How did you get a map of the Labyrinth? It's always changing.”

Annabeth hesitated. “I downloaded it from Daedalus’s laptop. It updates to the changes.”

“Then you should be in and out quickly,” Leto shrugged.

Percy chewed slowly. He swallowed. “What’s the catch?”

“You let me heal you two up before you leave,” Leto beamed. “And tell my Artemis and Apollo hello when you get back to the mortal world. Elaine, why don’t you show Percy and Annabeth to the guest room?”

“Follow me,” Elaine said, standing up. “Nice to see you, mom.”

“You too, sweetheart,” Leto said. “Come by for tea later.”

Annabeth and Percy stood too and followed Elaine out of the cabin.

“Which one are you?” Annabeth asked.

Elaine glanced back at her. “Huh?”

“Break or waiting to fade?”

Elaine’s face twisted. “Whichever. I don’t have a preference. I do, however, prefer not to talk about it or think about it. So don’t bring it up.” She marched ahead. Annabeth and Percy had to jog to keep up with Elaine. The empousa moved with surprising agility considering her mismatched legs.

Annabeth figured there was definitely a story behind Elaine’s reason for being at the monster camp. She wondered if it had anything to do with what Leto had said.

She’s a sweetheart. So sad what happened to her girl.

Who this girl was or what this girl was, was a mystery to Annabeth, but she guessed this girl was pretty important to Elaine and this girl probably wasn’t around anymore.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” Elaine’s voice cut into Annabeth’s thoughts.

They were standing outside a small hut. It didn’t look like much, and Annabeth had no inclination to find out what it was made out of.

“Staying?” Percy repeated. He and Annabeth shared a look. “We can’t stay here.”

“Why?” Elaine asked. “Because there’s monsters? Don’t worry. Like I said, none of us could kill you even if we wanted to. Mom would get upset.”

“That’s not it,” Annabeth said. “We just… we slowed Tartarus down. He’s going to kill us if we stay here much longer. Leto said the entrance was close. We should go now while Tartarus is still occupied.”

Elaine crossed her arms and leaned against the side of the hut. “Oh, I know what you did. You don’t have to dumb it down for me. You tried to kill Tartarus. He’s not happy with you, of course, but he won’t hurt you. Not as long as you’re within the borders of this camp. Lucky for you, the entrances to the Labyrinth don’t change and the entrance is within the borders.”

“He’ll just ignore us?” Annabeth asked in disbelief. “Because we’re in this monster camp?”

“You’re under the protection of the Titaness Leto,” Elaine said. “Tartarus may be powerful in his domain, but when someone under Leto’s protection is threatened… You’ve heard of mothers tossing automobiles off their kids, right? Imagine Tartarus is the car and Leto’s the mother. She’s a hell of a lot stronger than Tartarus when her kids are threatened.” She gave Percy and Annabeth a sidelong look. “I think he’s impressed too. Tartarus, I mean. Not many demigods can take on a primordial and live to tell the tale.”

“Still,” Percy said. “We need to get back to our friends.”

“You need rest,” Elaine said. “Percy Jackson, you bear the Curse of Achilles. You’ll pass out before we reach the entrance. You’re no good to anyone dead.”

Percy opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a yawn.

Elaine nodded like this proved her point. “Rest. Get some sleep. I will wake you when it is time to leave.”

Chapter Text

ANNABETH WISHED SHE COULD HAVE HAD PEACEFUL DREAMS.

As soon as she lay down on the surprisingly comfortable bed in the hut—were all huts this nice in Tartarus?—she was out like a light.

And then her dreams came.

“Hurry!” Nico di Angelo yelled up at Coach Hedge who was perched atop a temple the Athena Parthenos was draped across. Annabeth’s heart pounded at the precarious situation.

“Oh, really?” the coach called down. “I thought we had tons of time!”

“This is no time for yelling at each other!” Bianca said.

Annabeth started. What was Bianca doing with Nico and Coach Hedge? And Reyna, she amended, seeing the Roman praetor fighting off a pack of wolves with a duct-tape-coin-sword. Her metal dogs were helping her, snarling and snapping at the wolves. Only the silver one—Argentum—seemed to be able to hurt the wolves.

Werewolves, Annabeth realized with a sinking feeling. She identified a man trapped in bones undoubtedly summoned by Nico as Lycaon.

“Reyna, get up here!” Nico yelled.

Reyna slammed another wolf in the head and ran. In mid-stride, she flicked her sword, which elongated into a javelin, then used it to launch herself up like a pole-vaulter. She landed next to Nico.

“Holy what?” Bianca yelped. “How did you do that?”

Reyna didn’t answer her. “What’s the plan?” she asked, not even out of breath.

“Show-off,” Nico said goodnaturedly.

A knotted rope fell from above.

“Climb, ya silly non-goats!” Hedge yelled.

“Both of you go,” Nico said. “Once you’re up there, hang on tight to the rope.”

“Nico—”

“Do it!”

Reyna’s javelin shrank back into a sword. She sheathed it and began to climb, scaling the column despite her armor and her supplies. Bianca gave Nico a worried look.

“I have a plan, just go,” he said, pushing her towards the rope.

“Don’t you dare get yourself killed,” Bianca said seriously.

Nico tried for a grin. “Who me?”

Bianca didn’t really look very reassured as she started scaling the column after Reyna. Annabeth herself wasn’t reassured at all.

Down in the plaza, Aurum and Argentum were nowhere to be seen. Either they’d retreated or they’d been destroyed.

Lycaon broke free of his bone cage with a triumphant howl. “You will suffer, children of Hades!”

Nico palmed a pocket knife. “Come get me, you mutt! Or do you have to stay like a good dog until your master shows up?”

Lycaon sprang through the air, his claws extended, his fangs bared. Nico wrapped his free hand around the rope. As the wolf king fell on him, Nico thrust the silver knife into Lycaon’s chest. All around the temple, wolves howled as one. The wolf king sank his claws into Nico’s arms. His fangs stopped less than an inch from Nico’s face. Nico jabbed the pocketknife to the hilt between Lycaon’s ribs.

“Be useful, dog,” he snarled. “Back to the shadows.”

Lycaon’s eyes rolled up in his head. He dissolved into a pool of inky darkness.

Nico, Bianca, Reyna, Coach Hedge, and the statue were pulled into the shadows.

The dream changed.

“I won’t apologize for what I did.”

Annabeth glanced around. She was at Camp Half-Blood in the Nemesis cabin if she remembered correctly. Ethan Nakamura and his cousin Allegra Nakamura stood glaring daggers at each other.

“Of course you won’t,” Ethan snapped. “But I don’t care that you took Bianca to Greece, I care that you took Bianca to Greece in the middle of the night while we are surrounded by Romans who would shoot you out of the sky first and ask questions never because you and Bianca would have been dead if the Romans saw you.”

“I made sure they wouldn’t see us,” Allegra said. “Do you think we just left on a spur of the moment whim? If that was the case, we would have left on the eighth when Connor Stoll pulled that note out of the fire! I planned out every move! I planned out a route to take! I planned out how to get in and out of Camp without anyone—not even the Romans—noticing!”

“Somehow that’s worse!” Ethan said. “You didn’t think to include me? A quest is a three person thing, Allegra. I’m your cousin and best friend. Bianca is our friend. I would have helped you.”

They were silent for a moment.

“What are you going to do?” Allegra asked.

Ethan frowned. “What do you mean?”

“About Alabaster? Are you going to IM him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. Yes.”

“If you’re feeling guilty about what Will said—”

Ethan snorted. “I’m not.”

“Yeah you are,” Allegra said. “And like you said—not very tactfully—you used to be trying to kill Percy. There isn’t a demigod who served Kronos that wasn’t trying to kill the Camp Half-Blood campers at some point. Alabaster can help. Alabaster will help. He owes us.”

“ You say he owes us,” Ethan corrected. “I’ll ask him,” he sighed. “But no promises.”

“All we can hope for.”

Annabeth woke with a start. Lycaon and the wolves… she knew that was going to happen. She didn’t know Bianca was going to be with Nico for that though. But it seemed like Bianca and Allegra had somehow managed to meet the Seven in Greece and Bianca had gone with the group with the statue.

This mention of Alabaster Torrington, the son of Hecate, made Annabeth nervous. Most of the demigods from Kronos’s army had wandered into Camp Half-Blood at some point after the war was over. And they all had seemed happy to find a place at Camp. There were a few demigods who never showed. Alabaster was one of them.

According to Will, Alabaster was pretty set in his ways. The gods were bad and they needed to go. The minor gods could take over for the Olympians and show them what it was like to be small and insignificant. Of course, Will was biased considering Alabaster was the one who tried to recruit Will a few times. Which must have been brought up to Ethan because that was what it seemed like he and Allegra were talking about.

Annabeth glanced over at Percy sleeping beside her. His face was peaceful and relaxed. He never looked like that when he was awake.

One day, she promised. One day we’ll get to rest.

She lay back down and turned on her side. Annabeth closed her eyes and fell back asleep.

Chapter Text

PIPER COULDN’T BELIEVE how hard it was to find deadly poison.

All morning she and Frank had scoured the port of Pylos. Frank allowed only Piper to come with him, thinking her charmspeak might be useful if they ran into his shape-shifting relatives.

As it turned out, her sword was more in demand. So far, they’d slain a Laistrygonian ogre in the bakery, battled a giant warthog in the public square and defeated a flock of Stymphalian birds with some well-aimed vegetables from Piper’s cornucopia.

She was glad for the work. It kept her from dwelling on her conversation with her mother the night before—that bleak glimpse of the future Aphrodite had made her promise not to share…

Meanwhile, Piper’s biggest challenge in Pylos was the ads plastered all over town for her dad’s new movie. The posters were in Greek, but Piper knew what they said: TRISTAN MCLEAN IS JAKE STEEL: SIGNED IN BLOOD.

Gods, what a horrible title. She wished her father had never taken on the Jake Steel franchise, but it had become one of his most popular roles. There he was on the poster, his shirt ripped open to reveal perfect abs (gross, Dad!), an AK-47 in each hand, a rakish smile on his chiselled face.

Halfway across the world, in the smallest, most out-of-the-way town imaginable, there was her dad. It made Piper feel sad, disoriented, homesick and annoyed all at once. Life went on. So did Hollywood. While her dad pretended to save the world, Piper and her friends actually had to. In eight more days, unless Piper could pull off the plan Aphrodite had explained… well, there wouldn’t be any more movies, or theatres, or people.

Around one in the afternoon, Piper finally put her charmspeak to work. She spoke with an Ancient Greek ghost in a Laundromat (on a one-to-ten scale for weird conversations, definitely an eleven) and got directions to an ancient stronghold where the shape-shifting descendants of Periclymenus supposedly hung out.

After trudging across the island in the afternoon heat, they found the cave perched halfway up a beachside cliff. Frank insisted that Piper wait for him at the bottom while he checked it out. Piper wasn’t happy about that, but she stood obediently on the beach, squinting up at the cave entrance and hoping she hadn’t guided Frank into a death trap.

Behind her, a stretch of white sand hugged the foot of the hills. Sunbathers sprawled on blankets. Little kids splashed in the waves. The blue sea glittered invitingly.

Piper wished she could surf those waters. She’d promised to teach Hazel and Annabeth someday, if they ever came out to Malibu… if Malibu still existed after August first.

She glanced up at the cliff’s summit. The ruins of an old castle clung to the ridge. Piper wasn’t sure if that was part of the shape-changers’ hideout or not. Nothing moved on the parapets. The entrance of the cave sat about seventy feet down the cliff face—a circle of black in the chalky yellow rock like the hole of a giant pencil sharpener.

Nestor’s Cave, the Laundromat ghost had called it. Supposedly the ancient king of Pylos had stashed his treasure there in times of crisis. The ghost also claimed that Hermes had once hidden the stolen cattle of Apollo in that cave.

Cows.

Piper shuddered. When she was little, her dad had driven her past a meat-processing plant in Chino. The smell had been enough to turn her into a vegetarian. Ever since, just the thought of cows made her ill. Her experiences with Hera the cow queen, the katoblepones of Venice, and the pictures of creepy death cows in the House of Hades hadn’t helped.

Piper was just starting to think, Frank’s been gone too long—when he appeared at the cave entrance. Next to him stood a tall grey-haired man in a white linen suit and a pale yellow tie. The older man pressed a small shiny object—like a stone or a piece of glass—into Frank’s hands. He and Frank exchanged a few words. Frank nodded gravely. Then the man turned into a seagull and flew away.

Frank picked his way down the trail until he reached Piper.

“I found them,” he said.

“I noticed. You okay?”

He stared at the seagull as it flew towards the horizon.

Frank’s close-cropped hair pointed forward like an arrow, making his gaze even more intense. His Roman badges—mural crown, centurion, praetor—glittered on his shirt collar. On his forearm, the SPQR tattoo with the crossed spears of Mars stood out darkly in the full sunlight.

He looked good in his new outfit. The giant warthog had slimed his old clothes pretty badly, so Piper had taken him for some emergency shopping in Pylos. Now he wore new black jeans, soft leather boots and a dark green Henley shirt that fitted him snugly. He’d been self-conscious about the shirt. He was used to hiding his bulk in baggy clothes, but Piper assured him he didn’t have to worry about that any more. Since his growth spurt in Venice, he’d grown into his bulkiness just fine.

You haven’t changed, Frank, she’d told him. You’re just more you.

It was a good thing Frank Zhang was still so sweet and soft-spoken. Otherwise he would’ve been a scary guy.

“Frank?” she prompted gently.

“Yeah, sorry.” He focused on her. “My, uh… cousins, I guess you’d call them… they’ve been living here for generations, all descended from Periclymenus the Argonaut. I told them my story, how the Zhang family had gone from Greece to Rome to China to Canada. I told them about the legionnaire ghost I saw in the House of Hades, urging me to come to Pylos. They… they didn’t seem surprised. They said it’s happened before, long-lost relatives coming home.”

Piper heard the wistfulness in his voice. “You were expecting something different.”

He shrugged. “A bigger welcome. Some party balloons. I’m not sure. My grandmother told me I would close the circle—bring our family honor and all that. But my cousins here… they acted kind of cold and distant, like they didn’t want me around. I don’t think they liked that I’m a son of Mars. Honestly, I don’t think they liked that I’m Chinese, either.”

Piper glared into the sky. The seagull was long gone, which was probably a good thing. She would have been tempted to shoot it out of the air with a glazed ham. “If your cousins feel that way, they’re idiots. They don’t know how great you are.”

Frank shuffled from foot to foot. “They got a little more friendly when I told them I was just passing through. They gave me a going-away present.” He opened his hand. In his palm gleamed a metallic vial no bigger than an eyedropper.

Piper resisted the urge to step away. “Is that the poison?”

Frank nodded. “They call it Pylosian mint. Apparently the plant sprang from the blood of a nymph who died on a mountain near here, back in ancient times. I didn’t ask for details.”

The vial was so tiny… Piper worried there wouldn’t be enough. Normally she didn’t wish for more deadly poison. Nor was she sure how it would help them make the so-called physician’s cure that Nike had mentioned. But, if the cure could really cheat death, Piper wanted to brew a six-pack—one dose for each of her friends.

Frank rolled the vial around in his palm. “I wish Vitellius Reticulus were here.”

Piper wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “Ridiculous who?”

A smile flickered across his mouth. “Gaius Vitellius Reticulus, although we did call him Ridiculous sometimes. He was one of the Lares of the Fifth Cohort. Kind of a goofball, but he was the son of Aesculapius, the healing god. If anybody knew about this physician’s cure… he might.”

“A healing god would be nice,” Piper mused. “Better than having a screaming, tied-up victory goddess on board.”

“Hey, you’re lucky. My cabin is closest to the stables. I can hear her yelling all night: FIRST PLACE OR DEATH! AN A-MINUS IS A FAILING GRADE! Leo really needs to design a gag that’s better than my old sock.”

Piper shuddered. She still didn’t understand why it had been a good idea to take the goddess captive. The sooner they got rid of Nike, the better. “So your cousins… did they have any advice about what comes next? This chained god we’re supposed to find in Sparta?”

Frank’s expression darkened. “Yeah. I’m afraid they had some thoughts on that. Let’s get back to the ship and I’ll tell you about it.”

Piper’s feet were killing her. She wondered if she could convince Frank to turn into a giant eagle and carry her, but, before she could ask, she heard footsteps in the sand behind them.

“Hello, nice tourists!” A scraggly fisherman with a white captain’s hat and a mouth full of gold teeth beamed at them. “Boat ride? Very cheap!”

He gestured to the shore, where a skiff with an outboard motor waited.

Piper returned his smile. She loved it when she could communicate with the locals.

“Yes, please,” she said in her best charmspeak. “And we’d like you to take us somewhere special.”

The boat captain dropped them at the Argo II, anchored a quarter of a mile out to sea. Piper pressed a wad of euros into the captain’s hands.

She wasn’t above using charmspeak on mortals, but she’d decided to be as fair and careful as possible. Her days of stealing BMWs from car dealerships were over.

“Thank you,” she told him. “If anyone asks, you took us around the island and showed us the sights. You dropped us at the docks in Pylos. You never saw any giant warship.”

“No warship,” the captain agreed. “Thank you, nice American tourists!”

They climbed aboard the Argo II and Frank smiled at her awkwardly. “Well… nice killing giant warthogs with you.”

Piper laughed. “You too, Mr. Zhang.”

She gave him a hug, which seemed to fluster him, but Piper couldn’t help liking Frank. Not only was he a kind and considerate boyfriend to Hazel, but he was a nice presence to talk to.

The crew gathered for a hurried meeting on the foredeck—mostly because they wanted to keep an eye on a giant red sea serpent swimming off the port side.

“Nico didn’t say anything about cherry sea snakes attacking,” Alex mused, “but who knows.”

“Anyway,” Frank said, “according to my Pylos cousins, the chained god we’re looking for in Sparta is my dad… uh, I mean Ares, not Mars. Apparently the Spartans kept a statue of him chained up in their city so the spirit of war would never leave them.”

“Oo-kay,” Leo said. “The Spartans were freaks. Of course, we’ve got Victory tied up downstairs, so I guess we can’t talk.”

Jason leaned against the forward ballista. “On to Sparta, then. But how does a chained god’s heartbeat help us find a cure for dying?”

“Piper?” Hazel asked. “You told me you’d seen some stuff in your dagger blade?”

“Uh… right." Piper reluctantly unsheathed Katoptris. Ever since she’d used it to stab the snow goddess Khione, the visions in the blade had become colder and harsher, like images etched in ice. She’d seen eagles swirling over Camp Half-Blood, a wave of earth destroying New York. She’d seen scenes from the past: her father beaten and bound at the top of Mount Diablo, Jason and Percy fighting giants in the Roman Colosseum, the river god Achelous reaching out to her, pleading for the cornucopia she’d cut from his head.

“I, um…” She tried to clear her thoughts. “I don’t see anything right now. But one vision kept popping up. Magnus and I are exploring some ruins—”

“Ruins!” Leo rubbed his hands. “Now we’re talking. How many ruins can there be in Greece?”

“Just us?” Magnus frowned. “Why would you bring me?”

“You have a magical flying sword and you can heal things,” Frank pointed out. “That’s helpful.”

“So do you think that’s in Sparta?” Jason asked.

“Maybe,” Piper said. “Anyway… suddenly we’re in this dark place like a cave. We’re staring at this bronze warrior statue. In the vision I touch the statue’s face and flames start swirling around us. That’s all I saw.”

“Flames.” Frank scowled. “I don’t like that vision.”

“I don’t really want to be engulfed in flames,” Magnus agreed. “Shouldn’t we send Leo?”

“I love you too, man.”

“You know what I mean. You’re immune.”

Jason stared at the coastline of Pylos, now retreating in the distance. “If Piper saw the two of you going after the statue, then that’s who should go.”

“Yeah, but it was probably Piper and Percy or Piper and Annabeth last time,” Magnus pointed out. “I’m not as battle strategy wired as my cousin and I definitely can’t control water like Percy.”

“You’re going for a reason,” Hazel told him. “Don’t think of it as replacing Annabeth or Percy. No one is replacing anyone. You and Alex are both valid members of this team and you’re both your own person.”

“Good speech,” Alex said. She looked at Frank. “Did you get the poison?”

Frank held out the vial of Pylosian mint. “Yeah, but, uh… After the House of Hades, I kind of hoped we were done drinking poison. What do we do with this?”

“Store it securely in the hold,” Jason said. “For now, that’s all we can do. Once we figure out this chained god situation, we’ll head to the island of Delos.”

“The curse of Delos,” Hazel remembered. “That sounds fun.”

“Well, according to Nico, Apollo and Artemis will be there,” Magnus said. “We can talk to him about this cure.”

Aphrodite’s words came back to Piper: You must bridge the gap between Roman and Greek, my child. Neither storm nor fire can succeed without you.

Aphrodite had warned her of what was to come, told her what Piper would have to do to stop Gaea. Whether or not she would have the courage… Piper didn’t know. She wondered if Magnus or Alex knew what was going to happen.

“Who needs the cure?” she asked.

Alex’s eyes flitted towards someone, but before Piper could follow her line of sight, they returned back to look at Piper. “Don’t know. We weren’t here and Nico didn’t say.”

“Probably one of those things we shouldn’t know,” Leo said. He glanced at Alex. “If we knew what would happen… it probably wouldn’t happen.”

Off the port bow, the cherry sea serpent spewed steam.

“Hey, maybe we should take to the air,” Alex said quickly.

Leo seemed to be on the same page. “Airborn it is!” he said. “Festus, do the honors!”

The bronze dragon figurehead creaked and clacked. The ship’s engine hummed. The oars lifted, expanding into aerial blades with a sound like ninety umbrellas opening at once, and the Argo II rose into the sky.

“We should reach Sparta by morning,” Leo announced. “And remember to come by the mess hall tonight, folks, ’cause Chef Leo is making his famous three-alarm tofu tacos!”

Chapter Text

SHE WAS IN THE ACROPOLIS.

Piper had never been there, but she recognized it from pictures—an ancient stronghold perched on a hill almost as impressive as Gibraltar. Rising four hundred feet over the night-time sprawl of modern Athens, the sheer cliffs were topped with a crown of limestone walls. On the clifftop, a collection of ruined temples and modern cranes gleamed silver in the moonlight.

In her dream, Piper flew above the Parthenon—the ancient temple of Athena, the left side of its hollow shell encased in metal scaffolding.

The Acropolis seemed devoid of mortals, perhaps because of the financial problems in Greece. Or perhaps Gaea’s forces had arranged some pretext to keep the tourists and construction workers away.

Piper’s view zoomed to the center of the temple. So many giants had gathered there it looked like a cocktail party for redwood trees. A few Piper recognized: those horrible twins from Rome, Otis and Ephialtes, dressed in matching construction worker outfits; Polybotes, looking just as Percy had described him, with poison dripping from his dreadlocks and a breastplate sculpted to resemble hungry mouths; worst of all, Enceladus, the giant who had kidnapped Piper’s dad. His armor was etched with flame designs, his hair braided with bones. His flagpole-sized spear burned with purple fire.

Piper had heard that each giant was born to oppose a particular god, but there were way more than twelve giants gathered in the Parthenon. She counted at least twenty and, if that wasn’t intimidating enough, around the giants’ feet milled a horde of smaller monsters—Cyclopes, ogres, six-armed Earthborn, and serpent-legged dracaenae.

In the center of the crowd stood an empty, makeshift throne of twisted scaffolding and stone blocks apparently yanked at random from the ruins.

As Piper watched, a new giant lumbered up the steps at the far end of the Acropolis. He wore a massive velour tracksuit with gold chains around his neck and greased-back hair, so he looked like a thirty-foot-tall mobster—if mobsters had dragon feet and burnt-orange skin. The mafia giant ran towards the Parthenon and stumbled inside, flattening several Earthborn under his feet. He stopped, gasping for breath at the foot of the throne.

“Where is Porphyrion?” he demanded. “I have news!”

Piper’s old enemy Enceladus stepped forward. “Tardy as usual, Hippolytos. I hope your news is worth the wait. King Porphyrion should be…”

The ground between them split. An even larger giant leaped from the earth like a breaching whale.

“King Porphyrion is here,” announced the king.

He looked just as Piper remembered from the Wolf House in Sonoma. Forty feet tall, he towered over his brethren. In fact, Piper realized queasily, he was the same size as the Athena Parthenos that had once dominated the temple. In his seaweed-colored braids, captured demigod weapons glittered. His face was cruel and pale green, his eyes as white as the Mist. His body radiated its own sort of gravity, causing the other monsters to lean towards him. Soil and pebbles skittered across the ground, pulled towards his massive dragon feet.

The mobster giant Hippolytos kneeled. “My king, I bring word of the enemy!”

Porphyrion took his throne. “Speak.”

“The demigod ship sails around the Peloponnese. Already they have destroyed the ghosts at Ithaca and captured the goddess Nike in Olympia!”

The crowd of monsters stirred uneasily. A Cyclops chewed his fingernails. Two dracaenae exchanged coins like they were taking bets for the End-of-the-World office sweepstake.

Porphyrion just laughed. “Hippolytos, do you wish to kill your enemy Hermes and become the messenger of the giants?”

“Yes, my king!”

“Then you will have to bring fresher news. I know all this already. None of it matters! The demigods have taken the route we expected them to take. They would have been fools to go any other way.”

“But, sire, they will arrive at Sparta by morning! If they manage to unleash the makhai—”

“Idiot!” Porphyrion’s voice shook the ruins. “Our brother Mimas awaits them at Sparta. You need not worry. The demigods cannot change their fate. One way or another, their blood shall be spilled upon these stones and wake the Earth Mother!”

The crowd roared approval and brandished their weapons. Hippolytos bowed and retreated, but another giant approached the throne.

With a start, Piper realized this one was female. Not that it was easy to tell. The giantess had the same dragon-like legs and the same long braided hair. She was just as tall and burly as the males, but her breastplate was definitely fashioned for a woman. Her voice was higher and reedier.

“Father!” she cried. “I ask again: Why here, in this place? Why not on the slopes of Mount Olympus itself? Surely—”

“Periboia,” the king growled, “the matter is settled. The original Mount Olympus is now a barren peak. It offers us no glory. Here, in the center of the Greek world, the roots of the gods truly run deep. There may be older temples, but this Parthenon holds their memory best. In the minds of mortals, it is the most powerful symbol of the Olympians. When the blood of the last heroes is spilled here, the Acropolis shall be razed. This hill shall crumble, and the entire city shall be consumed by the Earth Mother. We will be the masters of Creation!”

The crowd hollered and howled, but the giantess Periboia didn’t look convinced.

“You tempt fate, Father,’ she said. ‘The demigods have friends here as well as enemies. It is not wise—”

“WISE?” Porphyrion rose from his throne. All the giants took a step back. “Enceladus, my counsellor, explain to my daughter what wisdom is!”

The fiery giant came forward. His eyes glowed like diamonds. Piper loathed his face. She’d seen it too many times in her dreams when her father was held captive.

“You need not worry, princess,” Enceladus said. “We have taken Delphi. Apollo was driven out of Olympus in shame. The future is closed to the gods. They stumble forward blindly. As for tempting fate…” He gestured to his left, and a smaller giant shuffled forward. He had ratty grey hair, a wrinkled face and eyes that were milky with cataracts. Instead of armor, he wore a tattered sackcloth tunic. His dragon-scale legs were as white as frost.

He didn’t look like much, but Piper noticed that the other monsters kept their distance. Even Porphyrion leaned away from the old giant.

“This is Thoon,” Enceladus said. “Just as many of us were born to kill certain gods, Thoon was born to kill the Three Fates. He will strangle the old ladies with his bare hands. He will shred their yarn and destroy their loom. He will destroy Fate itself!”

King Porphyrion rose and spread his arms in triumph. “No more prophecies, my friends! No more futures foretold! The time of Gaea shall be our era, and we will make our own destiny!”

The crowd cheered so loudly that Piper felt as if she were crumbling to pieces.

Then she realized someone was shaking her awake.

“Hey,” Hazel said. “We made it to Sparta. Can you get ready?”

Piper sat up groggily, her heart still pounding.

“Yeah…” She gripped Hazel’s arm. “But first there’s something everyone needs to hear.”

Chapter Text

WHEN SHE RECOUNTED HER DREAM, everyone seemed grim.

“So let me get this straight,” Magnus said. “You and I are supposed to go face this Mimas dude who is probably another giant. Along the way, we might encounter a bronze statue surrounded by fire with a slight chance of seeing Anthoney Mackie?”

“Makhai,” Piper corrected. “It means battles in Greek, but I don’t know how that applies exactly.”

“I’d rather see Anthoney Mackie,” Magnus said. “At least that way I’d get an autograph out of this thing.”

Alex patted his arm. “Well, try not to die.”

Magnus crossed his arms. “That’s another thing. Why are Piper and I the ones? My most effective skill is healing people. Piper’s is talking, but at least she can fight.” He gestured to Jason. “Why don’t Jason and Piper go? Or Jason and Leo? Leo’s fireproof. Jason’s probably the most powerful one here. They’d be much better choices than me.”

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Are you saying two boys can do a better job than me?”

“No!” Magnus sputtered. “Just… the skill sets they have are probably better than charmspeak and healing.”

Jason held up his hands. “I don’t like it, I’ll admit that, but Piper saw both of you in her dagger. It has to be you two.”

“Yeah, Piper will be fine,” Alex agreed. “She’s got Jack to back her up. And Magnus will be there too, I guess,” she added after a second.

“Thanks,” Magnus muttered.

“No problem.”

An hour later, the two of them stood on a hill overlooking the ruins of Ancient Sparta. They’d already scouted the modern city, which, strangely, reminded Piper of Albuquerque—a bunch of low, boxy, whitewashed buildings sprawled across a plain at the foot of some purplish mountains.

They wandered through an archaeology museum, past a giant metal statue of a Spartan warrior in the public square, and through the National Museum of Olives and Olive Oil (yes, that was a real thing). Piper had learned more about olive oil than she ever wanted to know, but no giants attacked them. They found no statues of chained gods.

Magnus seemed reluctant to check the ruins on the edge of town, but finally they ran out of other places to look.

There wasn’t much to see. The hill they stood on had once been Sparta’s acropolis—its highest point and main fortress—but it was nothing like the massive Athenian acropolis Piper had seen in her dreams.

The weathered slope was covered with dead grass, rocks and stunted olive trees. Below, ruins stretched out for maybe a quarter of a mile: limestone blocks, a few broken walls and some tiled holes in the ground like wells.

Piper thought about her dad’s most famous movie, King of Sparta, and how the Spartans were portrayed as invincible supermen. She found it sad that their legacy had been reduced to a field of rubble and a small modern town with an olive-oil museum.

She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “You’d think if there was a thirty-foot-tall giant around we’d see him.”

Magnus shrugged. He hadn’t spoken much since they left the Argo II .

“You know, what you said about not being as powerful as Jason,” Piper said, “you’re wrong. You might not be a great sword fighter, but you are powerful. All of us are in our own ways.”

Magnus glanced at her. “I’m sorry if it sounded mean. You aren’t useless.”

“Neither are you,” Piper said firmly.

“I’m not a fighter,” Magnus said. “I can’t fight very well without Jack helping me.” He snorted. “I mean, even my ‘big battle’ with Loki proves that I’m not a fighter. It wasn’t even a battle. I challenged him to a flyting and do you know how I won? I talked about my friends. I literally won with the power of friendship. That’s not how Percy beat Kronos and saved Olympus. That’s definitely not how we’re going to defeat Gaea.”

Piper gave Magnus a sad look. “That’s not really what you’re upset about.” She knew she hit the nail on the head when Magnus deflated.

“I don’t want to replace my cousin,” he admitted.

“You aren’t replacing her,” Piper said. “Annabeth is tough. Nico said they were preparing for this moment for a whole year. If they weren’t coming back, they would have said goodbye. If not to the rest of the crew, then at least to you and Alex and Nico. And maybe you’re part of the Seven, but that means you’ve always been part of the Seven. No one is replacing anyone.”

Magnus gave her a smile. “Seems like a long time since you were mad about us hiding our Norse backgrounds.”

“Hah!” Piper snorted. “Gods, I was an idiot back then, wasn’t I?”

“You were hurt. Probably shocked,” Magnus said. He grinned. “When Annabeth and I reunited, she guessed I was a demigod. She guessed I was a Greek demigod, so it was a shock when I had no idea what she was talking about and I told her my dad was Frey.” He stared forward. “You asked me how I could let my cousin fall if I knew what was going to happen. I just… I knew they were going to fall. I knew they would get out. I knew they were supposed to be the ones who spill their blood and wake Gaea, but… I guess mostly I just knew they were part of the Seven and I treated that as a safety net. If I knew Alex and I would be counted as part of the Seven, I probably would have done something.”

Part of Piper’s brain wanted her to focus on the spill their blood and wake Gaea part of what Magnus just said, but she didn’t think he was in the mood for any interrogations. She filed that away for later.

“Things are changing,” Piper said. “I have to believe for the better. You told us you saved people who didn’t survive last time. Percy and Annabeth saved Bob and Damasen. And they will get out. Because if they don’t, I’m going to kill them.”

Magnus snorted. “Sure.”

Piper hoped she was right and things really were changing for the better. Clearly in Magnus’s timeline, Piper had managed to do what Aphrodite had advised. In the end, you will only have the power for one word. It must be the right word, or you will lose everything.

So she had chosen the right word last time since Nico had said Gaea was defeated. But would she choose the right word this time? What if that was an unknowing change that had happened because her friends wanted to save a few lives? What if Piper was the reason they lost this time? And who was it that needed the Physician’s Cure?

“Whatever happens,” she told Magnus, “I’m your friend. All of us. You, Alex, Jason, Leo, Hazel, Frank, Nico, Percy, Annabeth… We’re friends. We have each other’s backs. Just… remember that, okay?”

Especially if I’m not around to remind you, Piper thought.

Magnus started to say something. Suddenly a roaring sound came from the ruins. One of the stone-lined pits, which Piper had mistaken for wells, spewed out a three-storey geyser of flames and shut off just as quickly.

“What the heck?” Piper asked.

Magnus sighed. “I don’t know, but I have a feeling it’s something we have to check out.”

Three pits lay side by side like finger holes on a recorder. Each one was perfectly round, two feet in diameter, tiled around the rim with limestone; each one plunged straight into darkness. Every few seconds, seemingly at random, one of the three pits shot a column of fire into the sky. Each time, the color and intensity of the flames were different.

“They weren’t doing this before.” Magnus walked a wide arc around the pits. “There doesn’t seem to be any pattern. The timing, the color, the height of the fire… I don’t get it.”

“Did we activate them somehow?” Piper wondered.

Magnus didn’t seem to hear her. “There must be some kind of mechanism… a pressure plate, a proximity alarm.” He sighed. “Leo would be able to sense that. My cousin could probably figure this out.”

Flames shot from the middle pit. Magnus counted silently. The next time, a geyser erupted on the left. He frowned. “It’s inconsistent.”

Piper’s ears started to ring. Something about these pits…

Each time one ignited, a horrible thrill went through her—fear, panic, but also a strong desire to get closer to the flames.

“It isn’t rational,” she said. “It’s emotional.”

“I’d like to ask how a fire pit can be emotional, but my friend comes from a culture that names their bar stools and cups and asks permission to use them,” Magnus muttered.

Piper held her hand over the pit on the right. Instantly, flames leaped up. Piper barely had time to withdraw her fingers. Her nails steamed.

“What the Hel!” Magnus yelped. He grabbed Piper’s hand and examined her fingers. “You can’t just stick your hands over a fire pit! It spews any time it wants, how are you supposed to know when it’s safe? What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t. I was feeling. What we want is down there. These pits are the way in. I’ll have to jump.”

“Are you crazy? Even if you don’t get stuck in the tube, you have no idea how deep it is.”

“You’re right.”

“You’ll be burned alive! Or splatter at the bottom. Or—”

“I might.” Piper unbuckled her sword and tossed it into the pit on the right. “I’ll let you know if it’s safe. Wait for my word.”

Magnus reached for her. “No wait!”

Piper jumped.

For a moment she was weightless in the dark, the sides of the hot stone pit burning her arms. Then the space opened up around her. Instinctively she tucked and rolled, absorbing most of the impact as she hit the stone floor.

Flames shot up in front of her, singeing her eyebrows, but Piper snatched up her sword, unsheathed it and swung before she’d even stopped rolling. A bronze dragon head, neatly decapitated, wobbled across the floor.

Piper stood, trying to get her bearings. She looked down at the fallen dragon head and felt a moment of guilt, as if she’d killed Festus. But this wasn’t Festus.

Three bronze dragon statues stood in a row, aligned with the holes in the roof. Piper had decapitated the middle one. The two intact dragons were each three feet tall, their snouts pointed upward and their steaming mouths open. They were clearly the source of the flames, but they didn’t seem to be automatons. They didn’t move or try to attack her. Piper calmly sliced off the heads of the other two.

She waited. No more flames shot upward.

“Piper!” Magnus shouted. His voice echoed from far above like he was yelling down a chimney.

“Yeah!” Piper shouted.

“Thank the gods! You okay? Anything broken?”

“I’m fine! Just hold on a sec.”

Her eyesight adjusted to the dark. She scanned the chamber. The only light came from her glowing blade and the openings above. The ceiling was about thirty feet high. By all rights, Piper should’ve broken both legs in the fall, but she wasn’t going to complain.

The chamber itself was round, about the size of a helicopter pad. The walls were made of rough-hewn stone blocks chiselled with Greek inscriptions—thousands and thousands of them, like graffiti.

At the far end of the room, on a stone dais, stood the human-sized bronze statue of a warrior—the god Ares, Piper guessed—with heavy bronze chains wrapped around his body, anchoring him to the floor.

On either side of the statue loomed two dark doorways, ten feet high, with a gruesome stone face carved over each archway. The faces reminded Piper of gorgons, except they had lions’ manes instead of snakes for hair.

Piper suddenly felt very much alone.

“Magnus!” she called. “It’s a long drop, but it’s safe to come down. Maybe… uh, you have a rope you could fasten so we can get back up?”

“Uh, I have rope, but— Oh! Hang on!”

A few minutes later a rope dropped from the center pit. Magnus shinned down.

“Will Solace would have murdered you,” Magnus informed Piper. “Complete disregard for your own health. Honestly.”

“Well, he’s not here, is he?” Piper nudged the nearest decapitated dragon-head with her foot. “I’m guessing these are the dragons of Ares. That’s one of his sacred animals.”

“And there’s the chained god himself. Where do you think those doorways—”

Piper held up her hand. “Do you hear that?”

The sound was like a drumbeat… with a metallic echo.

“It’s coming from inside the statue,” Piper decided. “The heartbeat of the chained god.”

“Oooookay, that’s officially creepy,” Magnus said. His hand tugged the pendant on his necklace and Jack sprang out.

“Whoa, señor,” Jack said. “What’s going on?”

Magnus’s knuckles were white from the tight grip on his sword. “I don’t know, but I don’t like this. Can we leave and come back tomorrow?”

The rational part of Piper agreed. Her skin crawled. Her legs ached to run. But something about this room felt strangely familiar…

“The shrine is ramping up our emotions,” she said. “It’s like being around my mom, except this place radiates fear, not love. That’s why you started feeling overwhelmed on the hill. Down here, it’s a thousand times stronger.”

Magnus made a face. “I don’t like that. And I was not overwhelmed, Piper.”

“You were freaking out about replacing Annabeth and Percy,” Piper said. She frowned at the snarling stone faces above the doorways. “You were afraid,” she said. “This shrine radiates fear, and Ares had two divine sons. Phobos and Deimos. Panic and Fear. That must be their faces. This isn’t just a shrine to Ares. It’s a temple of fear.”

Deep laughter echoed through the chamber.

On Piper’s right, a giant appeared. He didn’t come through either doorway. He simply emerged from the darkness as if he’d been camouflaged against the wall.

He was small for a giant—perhaps twenty-five feet tall, which would give him enough room to swing the massive sledgehammer in his hands. His armor, his skin and his dragon-scale legs were all the color of charcoal. Copper wires and smashed circuit boards glittered in the braids of his oil-black hair.

“Very good, child of Aphrodite.” The giant smiled. “This is indeed the Temple of Fear. And I am here to make you believers.”

Chapter Text

PIPER KNEW FEAR, BUT THIS WAS DIFFERENT.

Waves of terror crashed over her. Her joints turned to jelly. Her heart refused to beat.

Her worst memories crowded her mind—her father tied up and beaten on Mount Diablo; Percy and Jason fighting to the death in Kansas; the three of them and Magnus drowning in the nymphaeum in Rome; herself standing alone against Khione and the Boreads. Worst of all, she relived her conversation with her mother about what was to come.

Paralysed, she watched as the giant raised his sledgehammer to smash them flat. At the last moment, Magnus grabbed Piper’s wrist and dragged her to one side. Piper looked at Magnus to see that it wasn’t Magnus who threw them to the side, but Jack dragging Magnus dragging Piper.

The hammer cracked the floor, peppering Piper’s back with stone shrapnel.

The giant chuckled. “Oh, that wasn’t fair!” He hefted his sledgehammer again.

“Get up, get up!” Piper urged, helping Magnus to his feet. She pulled him towards the far end of the room.

“What—?” Magnus looked around wildly. “Oh my God.”

“You okay?” Piper asked him.

Magnus shook his head. “Um, no! What’s going on?”

“It’s amplifying our fears,” Piper said. “Personal fears.”

“Personal fears?” Magnus squeaked.

Piper tried to fill her voice with reassurance—hard when your own fears are pounding down on you. “We will get out of this.”

The giant laughed. “A child of Aphrodite and a Vanir spawn! How will you defeat me? With makeup and fashion tips? Holding hands and friendship bracelets?”

A few months ago that comment might’ve stung, but Piper was way past that.

“I’ve never made a friendship bracelet before, Tall, Dark, and Ugly,” Magnus said, sounding personally insulted.

The giant lumbered towards them. Fortunately, he was slow and carrying a heavy hammer.

“I go right, you go left, send Jack for help?” Magnus suggested weakly.

Piper gave him a look. “No. Follow me.”

The giant swung his hammer, but they dodged it easily. Piper leaped forward and slashed her sword across the back of the giant’s knee. As the giant bellowed in outrage, Piper pulled Magnus into the nearest tunnel. Immediately they were engulfed in total darkness.

“Fools!” the giant roared somewhere behind them. “That is the wrong way!”

“Keep moving.” Piper held tight to Magnus’s hand. “It’s fine. Come on.”

She couldn’t see anything. Even the glow of her sword was snuffed out. She barrelled ahead anyway, trusting her emotions. From the echo of their footfalls, the space around them must have been a vast cavern, but she couldn’t be sure. She simply went in the direction that made her fear the sharpest.

“Baby I'm preying on you tonight,” Jack hummed quietly. “Hunt you down eat you alive. Just like animals. Animals. Like animals-mals.”

Piper tried to block it out, but the sword’s nervous singing was way too appropriate for the situation.

“Maybe you think that you can hide. I can smell your scent for miles. Just like animals. Animals. Like animals-mals. Baby I'm—”

“Jack,” Magnus hissed. “Shut. Up.”

The sword fell silent.

The giant’s voice came from somewhere in front of them. “Lost forever. Swallowed by the darkness.”

“I really don’t like this,” Magnus murmured. “I really wish my cousin was here. She could have figured out a plan to get us out of here and defeat this guy. Memes?”

“Mimas,” Piper corrected absently. “But I don’t think we can defeat this place with reason. You can’t think your way out of your emotions.”

The giant’s laughter echoed like a detonating depth charge. “Despair, demigods! I am Mimas, born to slay Hephaestus. I am the breaker of plans, the destroyer of the well-oiled machines. Nothing goes right in my presence. Maps are misread. Devices break. Data is lost. The finest minds turn to mush!”

“Good thing we don’t have the finest minds,” Magnus said. “Nor do we have a map to misread or any devices to break because those attract monsters.”

“Oh, I see!” The giant sounded much closer now. “Are you not afraid?”

“I just said you can’t do anything to us, not that I wasn’t afraid! Phobia and Demon over there are really ramping up the fear.”

“Yeah, we’re terrified,” Piper said.

The air moved. Just in time, Piper pushed Magnus to one side.

CRASH!

Suddenly they were back in the circular room, the dim light almost blinding now. The giant stood close by, trying to yank his hammer out of the floor where he’d embedded it. Piper lunged and drove her blade into the giant’s thigh.

“AROOO!” Mimas let go of the hammer and arched his back.

Piper and Magnus scrambled behind the chained statue of Ares, which still pulsed with a metallic heartbeat: thump, thump, thump.

The giant Mimas turned towards them. The wound on his leg was already closing.

“You cannot defeat me,” he growled. “In the last war, it took two gods to bring me down. I was born to kill Hephaestus, and would have done so if Ares hadn’t ganged up on me as well! You should have stayed paralysed in your fear. Your death would’ve been quicker.”

Days ago, when she faced Khione on the Argo II, Piper had started talking without thinking, following her heart no matter what her brain said. Now she did the same thing. She moved in front of the statue and faced the giant, though the rational part of her screamed, RUN, YOU IDIOT!

“This temple,” she said. “The Spartans didn’t chain Ares because they wanted his spirit to stay in their city.”

“You think not?” The giant’s eyes glittered with amusement. He wrapped his hands around his sledgehammer and pulled it from the floor.

“This is the temple of my brothers, Deimos and Phobos.” Piper’s voice shook, but she didn’t try to hide it. “The Spartans came here to prepare for battle, to face their fears. Ares was chained to remind them that war has consequences. His power—the spirits of battle, the makhai—should never be unleashed unless you understand how terrible they are, unless you’ve felt fear.”

Mimas laughed. “A child of the love goddess lectures me about war. What do you know of the makhai?”

“We’ll see.” Piper ran straight at the giant, unbalancing his stance. At the sight of her jagged blade coming at him, his eyes widened and he stumbled backwards, cracking his head against the wall. A jagged fissure snaked upward in the stones. Dust rained from the ceiling.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Magnus said.

Piper bit back a grin as she ran towards the rope, which dangled from the ceiling. She leapt as high as she could and cut it.

“Time out!” Magnus protested. “That is not fair. How are we supposed to get out?”

“Don’t think about escape,” Piper told him. She knew this was the only way to survive. She had to go against reason, follow emotion instead, keep the giant off balance.

“That hurt!” Mimas rubbed his head. “You realize you cannot kill me without the help of a god and Ares is not here! The next time I face that blustering idiot, I will smash him to bits. I wouldn’t have had to fight him in the first place if that cowardly fool Damasen had done his job—”

“Haven’t you heard?” Magnus asked. “Damasen—”

Piper cut him off with an elbow to the gut. If the giants didn’t know Damasen had escaped Tartarus and was quite possibly on his way to join the demigods in their fight in Athens, that was the way Piper wanted to keep it.

Piper lunged at Mimas, slashing her blade across the side of the giant’s face.

“GAHHH!” Mimas staggered.

A severed pile of dreadlocks fell to the floor along with something else—a large fleshy thing lying in a pool of golden ichor.

“Oh that is disgusting,” Magnus said.

“My ear!” Mimas wailed. Before he could recover his wits, Piper grabbed Magnus’s arm and together they plunged through the second doorway.

“I will bring down this chamber!” the giant thundered. “The Earth Mother shall deliver me, but you shall be crushed!”

The floor shook. The sound of breaking stone echoed all around them.

“What the Hel is going on?” Magnus complained.

“I told you, this temple is about fear,” Piper said. “You have to accept the fear, adapt to it, ride it like the rapids on a river.” She gave Magnus an appraising look. “Guess you already adapted to it.”

“Sarcasm is my natural response to… everything.”

“Well, don’t stop now.”

Somewhere nearby, a wall crumbled with a sound like an artillery blast.

“So… you cut the rope,” Magnus noted. “I’m not Alex or Frank. I can’t fly you out of here. I guess we could send Jack for them, but—”

“Dude, we aren’t leaving until this guy is dead,” Piper said. “Now. We’re going to run out there together, okay?”

“Not like I have a choice,” Magnus muttered. “Then what?”

“I have no idea.”

“I love it when we have no idea what to do.”

Piper laughed. “There’s that sarcasm. Come on!”

They ran in no particular direction and found themselves back in the shrine room, right behind the giant Mimas. As they ran, Jack howled out more lyrics: “Ah-ah, ah! Ah-ah, ah!” They each slashed one of his legs and brought him to his knees.

The giant howled. More chunks of stone tumbled from the ceiling.

“Weak mortals!” Mimas struggled to stand. “No plan of yours can defeat me!”

“That’s good,” Piper said. “Because I don’t have a plan.” She ran towards the statue of Ares. “Magnus, keep our friend occupied!”

“Oh, he’s occupied!”

“We come from the land of the ice and snow,” Jack trilled as Magnus swung him at Mimas—or was Jack doing most of the work?

“GAHHHHH!” Mimas yelled.

“From the midnight sun where the hot springs flow,” Jack continued. “The hammer of the gods Will drive our ships to new lands To fight the horde, sing and cry Valhalla, I am coming.”

Piper stared at the cruel bronze face of the war god. The statue thrummed with a low metallic pulse. The spirits of battle, she thought. They’re inside, waiting to be freed.

But they weren’t hers to unleash—not until she’d proven herself.

The chamber shook again. More cracks appeared in the walls. Piper glanced at the stone carvings above the doorways: the scowling twin faces of Fear and Panic.

“My brothers,” Piper said, “sons of Aphrodite… I give you a sacrifice.”

At the feet of Ares, she set her cornucopia. The magic horn had become so attuned to her emotions it could amplify her anger, love or grief and spew forth its bounty accordingly. She hoped that would appeal to the gods of fear. Or maybe they would just appreciate some fresh fruits and vegetables in their diets.

“I’m terrified,” she confessed. “I hate doing this. But I accept that it’s necessary.”

She swung her blade and took off the bronze statue’s head.

“No!” Mimas yelled.

Flames roared up from the statue’s severed neck. They swirled around Piper, filling the room with a firestorm of emotions: hatred, bloodlust and fear, but also love—because no one could face battle without caring for something: comrades, family, home.

Piper held out her arms and the makhai made her the center of their whirlwind.

We will answer your call, they whispered in her mind. Once only, when you need us, destruction, waste, carnage shall answer. We shall complete your cure.

The flames vanished along with the cornucopia, and the chained statue of Ares crumbled into dust.

“Foolish girl!” Mimas charged her, Magnus at his heels. “The makhai have abandoned you!”

“Or maybe they’ve abandoned you,” Piper said.

Mimas raised his hammer, but he’d forgotten about Magnus. He jabbed him in the thigh and the giant staggered forward, off balance. Piper stepped in calmly and stabbed him in the gut. Mimas crashed face-first into the nearest doorway. He turned over just as the stone face of Panic cracked off the wall above him and toppled down for a one-ton kiss. The giant’s cry was cut short. His body went still. Then he disintegrated into a twenty-foot pile of ash.

Magnus stared at Piper. “What just happened?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Those fiery spirits? Those are the makhai?”

“I guess so,” Piper said.

“How does that help us find the cure we’re looking for?”

“I don’t know. They said I could summon them when the time comes. Maybe Artemis and Apollo can explain—”

A section of the wall calved like a glacier.

Magnus stumbled and almost slipped on the giant’s severed ear. “Oh, gross. We need to get out of here.”

“I’m working on it,” Piper said.

“What do we do with the ear?” Magnus asked. He attempted a grin. “Did you hear me?”

“That was horrible. Absolutely terrible.”

“It sounds like you’re jealous of my puns.”

“Shut up, Chase.” Piper stared at the second doorway, which still had the face of Fear above it.

“Thank you, brothers, for helping to kill the giant. I need one more favor—an escape. And, believe me, I am properly terrified. I offer you this, uh, lovely ear as a sacrifice.”

The stone face made no answer. Another section of the wall peeled away. A starburst of cracks appeared in the ceiling.

Piper grabbed Magnus’s hand. “We’re going through that doorway. If this works, we might find ourselves back on the surface.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

Piper looked up at the face of Fear. “Let’s find out.”

“Yes, let’s,” Magnus grumbled.

The room collapsed around them as they plunged into the dark.

Chapter Text

AT LEAST THEY DIDN’T END UP ON ANOTHER CRUISE SHIP.

The jump from Portugal had landed them in the middle of the Atlantic, where Reyna had spent her whole day on the lido deck of the Azores Queen, shooing little kids off the Athena Parthenos, which they seemed to think was a waterslide.

“I don’t even understand how that’s supposed to work,” Bianca had said, staring at the mortal children sliding down the sides of the statue.

Unfortunately, the next jump brought Reyna home.

They appeared ten feet in the air, hovering over a restaurant courtyard that Reyna recognized. She and Nico dropped onto a large birdcage, which promptly broke, dumping them into a cluster of potted ferns along with three very alarmed parrots. Bianca tumbled onto a chair where she landed sitting perfectly until the chair’s legs gave out and the chair broke to pieces. Coach Hedge hit the canopy over a bar. The Athena Parthenos landed on her feet with a THUMP , flattening a patio table and flipping a dark green umbrella, which settled onto the Nike statue in Athena’s hand, so the goddess of wisdom looked like she was holding a tropical drink.

“Gah!” Coach Hedge yelled. The canopy ripped and he fell behind the bar with a crash of bottles and glasses. The satyr recovered well. He popped up with a dozen miniature plastic swords in his hair, grabbed the soda gun and served himself a drink. “I like it!” He tossed a wedge of pineapple into his mouth. “But next time, kiddos, can we land on the floor and not ten feet above it?”

Nico dragged himself out of the ferns. He collapsed into the nearest chair and waved off a blue parrot that was trying to land on his head. After the fight with Lycaon, Nico had discarded his shredded aviator jacket. His black skull-pattern T-shirt wasn’t in much better shape. Reyna had stitched up the gashes on his biceps, which gave Nico a slightly creepy Frankenstein look, but the cuts were still swollen and red. Unlike bites, werewolf claw marks wouldn’t transmit lycanthropy, but Reyna knew firsthand that they healed slowly and burned like acid.

“I’ve gotta sleep.” Nico looked up in a daze. “Are we safe?”

Reyna scanned the courtyard. The place seemed deserted, though she didn’t understand why. This time of night, it should’ve been packed. Above them, the evening sky glowed a murky terracotta, the same color as the building’s walls. Ringing the atrium, the second-storey balconies were empty except for potted azaleas hanging from the white metal railings. Behind a wall of glass doors, the restaurant’s interior was dark. The only sound was the fountain gurgling forlornly and the occasional squawk of a disgruntled parrot.

“This is Barrachina,” Reyna said.

“What kind of bear?” Hedge opened a jar of maraschino cherries and chugged them down.

“It’s a famous restaurant,” Reyna said, “in the middle of Old San Juan. They invented the piña colada here, back in the 1960s, I think.”

“Oh man,” Nico slurred. “Watch your backs. Not safe. Good night.” He slumped out of his chair, curled up on the floor, and started snoring.

Bianca’s eyes were wide. “San Juan? But I thought—”

“What?” Reyna asked, eyes narrowing.

“Nothing,” Bianca said, averting her eyes. “Just… I didn’t expect this.”

Coach Hedge belched. “Well, it looks like we’re staying for a while. If they haven’t invented any new drinks since the sixties, they’re overdue. I’ll get to work!”

While Hedge rummaged behind the bar, Reyna whistled for Aurum and Argentum. After their fight with the werewolves, the dogs looked a little worse for wear, but Reyna placed them on guard duty.

She checked the street entrance to the atrium. The decorative ironwork gates were locked. A sign in Spanish and English announced that the restaurant was closed for a private party. That seemed odd, since the place was deserted. At the bottom of the sign were embossed initials: HTK. These bothered Reyna, though she wasn’t sure why.

She peered through the gates. Calle Fortaleza was unusually quiet. The blue cobblestone pavement was free of traffic and pedestrians. The pastel-colored shop fronts were closed and dark. Was it Sunday? Or some sort of holiday? Reyna’s unease grew.

Behind her, Coach Hedge whistled happily as he set up a row of blenders. The parrots roosted on the shoulders of the Athena Parthenos. Reyna wondered whether the Greeks would be offended if their sacred statue arrived covered in tropical bird poop.

Of all the places Reyna could have ended up… San Juan.

Maybe it was a coincidence, but she feared not. Puerto Rico wasn’t really on the way from Europe to New York. It was much too far south.

Besides, Reyna had been lending Nico (and Bianca, but mostly Nico) her strength for days now. Perhaps she’d influenced them subconsciously. Nico said he was drawn to painful thoughts, fear, darkness. And Reyna’s darkest, most painful memory was San Juan. Her biggest fear? Coming back here.

Her dogs picked up on her agitation. They prowled the courtyard, snarling at shadows. Poor Argentum turned in circles, trying to aim his sideways head so he could see out of his one ruby eye.

Reyna tried to concentrate on positive memories. She’d missed the sound of the little coquí frogs, singing around the neighbourhood like a chorus of popping bottle caps. She’d missed the smell of the ocean, the blossoming magnolias and citrus trees, the fresh-baked bread from the local panaderías. Even the humidity felt comfortable and familiar—like the scented air from a dryer vent.

Part of her wanted to open the gates and explore the city. She wanted to visit the Plaza de Armas, where the old men played dominos and the coffee kiosk sold espresso so strong it made your ears pop. She wanted to stroll down her old street, Calle San Jose, counting and naming the stray cats, making up a story for each one, the way she used to do with her sister. She wanted to break into Barrachina’s kitchen and cook up some real mofongo with fried plantains and bacon and garlic—a taste that would always remind her of Sunday afternoons, when she and Hylla could briefly escape the house and, if they were lucky, eat here in the kitchen, where the staff knew them and took pity on them.

On the other hand, Reyna wanted to leave immediately. She wanted to wake up Nico, no matter how tired he was, and force him to shadow-travel out of here—anywhere but San Juan.

Being so close to her old house made Reyna feel ratcheted tight like a catapult winch.

Not to mention what he said about it not being safe…

She glanced at Nico. Despite the warm night, he shivered on the tile floor. She pulled a blanket out of her pack and covered him up. Reyna no longer felt self-conscious about wanting to protect him. For better or worse, they shared a connection now.

Tonight was July 25. Seven more days until August 1. In theory, that was plenty of time to reach Long Island. Once they completed their mission, if they completed their mission, Reyna would make sure Nico and Bianca were recognized for their bravery.

She slipped off her backpack. She tried to place it under Nico’s head as a makeshift pillow, but her fingers passed right through him as if he were a shadow. She recoiled her hand.

“Bianca!” she called.

Nico’s sister hurried over. “What’s wrong?”

Reyna tried again to lift Nico’s head. This time, she was able to lift his neck and slide the pillow under. His skin felt cool, but otherwise normal.

“What?” Bianca repeated.

“I… I don’t know,” Reyna said, frowning. “Maybe it was just a trick of the light? I could have sworn my hands…”

“He’s fading,” Bianca guessed. Her face was tight with worry. “It’s a thing that happens if he over does the shadow traveling. Or any of his powers really. I told him to let me take some of the burden. This is exactly why I came!”

“He won’t last another seven days like this,” Reyna said grimly. “He’ll have to let you help more.”

The sound of a blender startled them.

“You want a smoothie?” asked the coach. “This one is pineapple, mango, orange and banana, buried under a mound of shaved coconut. I call it the Hercules!”

“I—I’m all right, thanks.” Reyna glanced up at the balconies ringing the atrium. It still didn’t seem right to her that the restaurant was empty. A private party. HTK. “Coach, I think I’ll scout the second floor. I don’t like—”

A wisp of movement caught her eye. The balcony on the right—a dark shape. Above that, at the edge of the roof, several more silhouettes appeared against the orange clouds.

Reyna drew her sword, but it was too late.

A flash of silver, a faint whoosh, and the point of a needle buried itself in her neck. Her vision blurred. Her limbs turned to spaghetti. She collapsed next to Nico.

As her eyes dimmed, she saw her dogs running towards her, but they froze in mid-bark and toppled over.

At the bar, the coach yelled, “Hey!”

Another whoosh. The coach collapsed with a silver dart in his neck.

Bianca fell next to Reyna.

Reyna tried to say, Nico, wake up. Her voice wouldn’t work. Her body had been deactivated as completely as her metal dogs had.

Dark figures lined the rooftop. Half a dozen leaped into the courtyard, silent and graceful.

One leaned over Reyna. She could only make out a hazy smudge of grey.

A muffled voice said, “Take her.” A pause. “Her too.”

A cloth sack was wrestled over her head. Reyna wondered dimly if this was how she would die—without even a fight.

Then it didn’t matter. Several pairs of rough hands lifted her like an unwieldy piece of furniture and she drifted into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

THE ANSWER CAME TO HER before she was fully conscious.

The initials on the sign at Barrachina: HTK.

“Not funny,” Reyna muttered to herself. “Not remotely funny.”

Years ago, Lupa had taught her how to sleep lightly, wake up alert and be ready to attack. Now, as her senses returned, she took stock of her situation.

The cloth sack still covered her head, but it didn’t seem to be cinched around her neck. She was tied to a hard chair—wood, by the feel of it. Cords were tight against the ribs. Her hands were bound behind her, but her legs were free at the ankles. Either her captors were sloppy, or they hadn’t expected her to wake up so quickly.

Reyna wriggled her fingers and toes. Whatever tranquilizer they’d used, the effects had worn off.

Somewhere in front of her, footsteps echoed down a corridor. The sound got closer. Reyna let her muscles go slack. She rested her chin against her chest.

A lock clicked. A door creaked open. Judging from the acoustics, Reyna was in a small room with brick or concrete walls: maybe a basement or a cell. One person entered the room.

Reyna calculated the distance. No more than five feet.

She surged upward, spinning so the chair legs smashed against her captor’s body. The force broke the chair. Her captor fell with a pained grunt.

Shouts from the corridor. More footsteps.

Reyna shook the cloth sack off her head. She dropped into a backward roll, pulling her bound hands under her legs so her arms were in front of her. Her captor—a teen girl in grey camouflage—lay dazed on the floor, a knife at her belt.

Reyna grabbed the knife and straddled her, pressing the blade against her captor’s throat.

Two more girls crowded the doorway. One drew knives. The other nocked an arrow in her bow.

For a moment, everyone froze.

Her hostage’s carotid artery pulsed under the blade. Wisely, the girl made no attempt to move.

Reyna ran scenarios on how she could overcome the three in the doorway. All of them wore grey camouflage T-shirts, faded black jeans, black athletic shoes and utility belts as if they were going camping or hiking… or hunting.

“Reyna, no!” Bianca di Angelo burst into the room followed by another girl who looked annoyed. “They’re Hunters. The Hunters of Artemis!”

“Take it easy,” said the girl with the bow. Her ginger hair was shaved on the sides, long on top. She had the build of a professional wrestler. “You’ve got the wrong impression.”

The girl on the floor exhaled, but Reyna knew that trick—trying to loosen an enemy’s hold. Reyna pressed the knife tighter against the girl’s throat.

“You’ve got the wrong impression,” Reyna said, “if you think you can attack me and take me captive. Where are my friends?”

“Unharmed, right where you left them,” the ginger girl promised. “Look, it’s three to one and your hands are tied.” She glanced at Bianca. “Or four to one. Or three to two.”

“I’m staying out of this,” Bianca said.

“Where’s your lieutenant?” Reyna growled. “Thalia Grace?”

The ginger girl blinked. Her comrades gripped their knives uneasily.

On the floor, Reyna’s hostage began to shake. Reyna thought she might be having a fit. Then she realized the girl was laughing.

“Something funny?” Reyna asked.

The girl’s voice was a gravelly whisper. “Jason told me you were good. He didn’t say how good.”

Reyna focused more carefully on her hostage. The girl looked about sixteen, with choppy black hair and startling blue eyes. Across her forehead glinted a circlet of silver.

“You’re Thalia?”

“And I’d be happy to explain,” Thalia said, “if you’d kindly not cut my throat.”

The Hunters guided her through a maze of corridors. The walls were concrete blocks painted army green, devoid of windows. The only light came from dim fluorescents spaced every twenty feet. The passages twisted, turned and doubled back, but the ginger-haired Hunter, Phoebe, took the lead. She seemed to know where she was going.

Thalia Grace limped along, holding her ribs where Reyna had hit her with the chair. The Hunter must’ve been in pain, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Again, my apologies for abducting you.” Thalia didn’t sound very sorry. “This lair is secret. The Amazons have certain protocols—”

“The Amazons. You work for them?”

“With them,” Thalia corrected. “We have a mutual understanding. Sometimes the Amazons send recruits our way. Sometimes, if we come across girls who don’t wish to be maidens forever, we send them to the Amazons. The Amazons do not have such vows.”

One of the other Hunters snorted in disgust. “Keeping male slaves in collars and orange jumpsuits. I’d rather keep a pack of dogs any day.”

“Their males aren’t slaves, Celyn,” Thalia chided. “Merely subservient.” She glanced at Reyna. “The Amazons and Hunters don’t see eye to eye on everything, but since Gaea began to stir we have been cooperating closely. With Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood at each other’s throats, well… someone has to deal with all the monsters. Our forces are spread across the entire continent.”

Reyna massaged the rope marks on her wrists. “I thought you told Jason you knew nothing of Camp Jupiter.”

“That was true then. But those days are over, thanks to Hera’s scheming.” Thalia’s expression turned serious. “How is my brother?”

“How’s my brother,” Bianca challenged before Reyna could say anything.

Thalia glanced at her. “Nice to see you too, Bianca. Nico and the satyr are fine. We left them a note so they don’t worry.” She handed a piece of paper to Bianca.

“IOU one Roman praetor and one daughter of Hades,” Bianca read. “They will be returned safely. Sit tight. Otherwise you’ll be killed. XOX, the Hunters of Artemis.” She glared at Thalia. “I don’t think you know my brother very well at all. I thought you two were… well, not friends, but—”

“Nico’s a cool kid,” Thalia said. “But he’s male and this is a no-males zone. Jason?”

“When I left him in Epirus, he was fine.” Reyna told her what she knew.

She found Thalia’s eyes distracting: electric blue, intense and alert, so much like Jason’s. Otherwise the siblings looked nothing alike. Thalia’s hair was choppy and dark. Her jeans were tattered, held together with safety pins. She wore metal chains around her neck and wrists, and her grey camo shirt sported a badge that read PUNK IS NOT DEAD. YOU ARE.

Reyna had always thought of Jason Grace as the all-American boy. Thalia looked more like the girl who robbed all-American boys at knifepoint in an alley.

“I hope he’s still well,” Thalia mused. “A few nights ago I dreamed about our mother. It… wasn’t pleasant. Then I got Nico’s message in my dreams—about Orion hunting you. That was even less pleasant.”

“That’s why you’re here. You got Nico’s message.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Bianca said quietly.

“Well, we didn’t rush to Puerto Rico for a vacation. This is one of the Amazons’ most secure strongholds. We took a gamble that we’d be able to intercept you.”

“Intercept us… how? And why?”

In front of them, Phoebe stopped. The corridor dead-ended at a set of metal doors. Phoebe tapped on them with the butt of her knife—a complicated series of knocks like Morse code.

Thalia rubbed her bruised ribs. “I’ll have to leave you here. The Hunters are patrolling the old city, keeping a lookout for Orion. I need to get back to the front lines.” She held out her hand expectantly. “My knife, please?”

Reyna handed it back. “What about my own weapons?”

“They’ll be returned when you leave. I know it seems silly—the kidnapping and blindfolding and whatnot—but the Amazons take their security seriously. Last month they had an incident at their main center in Seattle. Maybe you heard about it. A girl named Hazel Levesque stole a horse.”

The Hunter Celyn grinned. “Naomi and I saw the security footage. Legendary.”

“Epic,” agreed the third Hunter.

“Bianca still has her weapons,” Reyna pointed out. It was true. Bianca still had a full quiver strung across her back. Her bow was gripped in her hand.

“Bianca’s ex-hunter,” Thalia said. “We get certain privileges.”

“Also bribery,” Bianca added. “It won’t work. I’m not rejoining.”

“We can always try,” Thalia shrugged. “Phoebe, tell them about the netting.”

Phoebe grinned. “Right. I covered your Athena Parthenos with this new camouflage netting I designed. It should keep monsters—even Orion—from finding it. Besides, if my guess is right, Orion isn’t tracking the statue as much as he’s tracking you.”

Reyna felt like she’d been punched between the eyes. “How could you know that?”

“Phoebe is my best tracker,” Thalia said. “And my best healer. And… well, she’s generally right about most things.”

“Most things?” Phoebe protested.

Thalia raised her hands in an I give up gesture. “As for why we intercepted you, I’ll let the Amazons explain. Phoebe, Celyn, Naomi—accompany Reyna and Bianca inside. I have to see to our defences.”

“You’re expecting a fight,” Reyna noted. “But you said this place was secret and secure.”

Thalia sheathed her knife. “You don’t know Orion. I wish we had more time, Praetor. I’d like to hear about your camp and how you ended up there. You remind me so much of your sister, and yet—”

“You know Hylla?” Reyna asked. “Is she safe?”

Thalia tilted her head. “None of us are safe these days, Praetor, so I really must go. Good hunting!”

“Wait!” Bianca said quickly.

Thalia paused. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Bianca said. “The aura here… it’s not… I sense high possibilities of death. A—A lot of death. Please, you should leave. Let us get back to Nico and Hedge so we can go.”

“There’s always a high possibility of death, Bianca,” Thalia said. “Comes with the territory.” She disappeared down the corridor.

The metal doors creaked open. The three Hunters led Reyna and Bianca through.

After the claustrophobic tunnels, the size of the warehouse took Reyna’s breath away. An aerie of giant eagles could’ve done manoeuvres under the vast ceiling. Three-storey-tall rows of shelves stretched into the distance. Robotic forklifts zipped through the aisles retrieving boxes. Half a dozen young women in black trouser suits stood nearby, comparing notes on their tablet computers. In front of them were crates labelled: EXPLOSIVE ARROWS AND GREEK FIRE (16 OZ. EZ-OPEN PACK) and GRYPHON FILLETS (FREE-RANGE ORGANIC).

Directly in front of Reyna, behind a conference table piled high with reports and bladed weapons, sat a familiar figure.

“Baby sister.” Hylla rose. “Here we are, home again. Facing certain death again. We have to stop meeting like this.”

Chapter Text

REYNA’S FEELINGS WEREN’T SO MUCH MIXED.

They were thrown into a blender with gravel and ice.

Every time she saw her sister, she didn’t know whether to hug her, cry or walk away. Of course she loved Hylla. Reyna would have been dead many times over if not for her sister.

But their past together was beyond complicated.

Hylla walked around the table. She looked good in her black leather trousers and black vest top. Around her waist glittered a cord of gold Labyrinthine links—the belt of the Amazon queen. She was twenty-two now, but she could’ve been mistaken for Reyna’s twin. They had the same long dark hair, the same brown eyes. They even wore the same silver ring with the torch-and-spear emblem of their mother, Bellona. The most obvious difference between them was the long white scar on Hylla’s forehead. It had faded over the last four years. Anyone who didn’t know better might’ve mistaken it for a worry line. But Reyna remembered the day Hylla got that scar in a duel on board the pirate ship.

“Well?” Hylla prompted. “No warm words for your sister?”

“Thank you for having me abducted,” Reyna said. “For shooting me with a tranquilizer dart, putting a bag over my head and tying me to a chair.”

Hylla rolled her eyes. “Rules are rules. As a praetor, you should understand that. This distribution center is one of our most important bases. We have to control access. I can’t make exceptions, especially not for my family.”

“I think you just enjoyed it.”

“That, too.”

Reyna wondered if her sister was as cool and collected as she seemed. She found it amazing, and a little scary, how quickly Hylla had adapted to her new identity.

Six years ago, she’d been a scared big sister, doing her best to shield Reyna from their father’s rage. Her main skills had been running and finding them places to hide. Then on Circe’s island Hylla had worked hard to be noticed. She wore flashy clothes and makeup. She smiled and laughed and always stayed perky, as if acting happy would make her happy. She’d become one of Circe’s favorite attendants. After their island sanctuary burned, they were taken prisoner aboard the pirates’ ship. Again Hylla changed. She’d duelled for their freedom, out-pirated the pirates, gained the crew’s respect so well that Blackbeard finally put them ashore lest Hylla take over his ship.

Now she’d reinvented herself again as queen of the Amazons.

Of course, Reyna understood why her sister was such a chameleon. If she kept changing, she could never fossilize into the thing their father had become…

“Those initials on the reservation sign at Barrachina,” Reyna said. “HTK. Hylla Twice-Kill, your new nickname. A little joke?”

“Just checking to see if you were paying attention.”

“You knew we would land in that courtyard. How?”

Hylla shrugged. “Shadow-travel is magic. Several of my followers are daughters of Hecate. It was a simple enough matter for them to pull you off course, especially since you and I share a connection.”

Reyna tried to keep her anger in check. Hylla, of all people, should know how she would feel about being dragged back to Puerto Rico.

“You went to a lot of trouble,” Reyna noted. “The queen of the Amazons and the lieutenant of Artemis both rushing to Puerto Rico on a moment’s notice to intercept us—I’m guessing that’s not because you missed me.”

Phoebe the ginger-haired Hunter chuckled. “She’s smart.”

“Of course,” Hylla said. “I taught her everything she knows.”

Other Amazons started to gather around, probably sensing a potential fight. Amazons loved violent entertainment almost as much as pirates did.

“Orion,” Reyna guessed. “That’s what brought you here. His name got your attention.”

“I couldn’t let him kill you,” Hylla said.

“It’s more than that.”

“Your mission to escort the Athena Parthenos—”

“—is important. But it’s more than that, too. This is personal for you. And for the Hunters. What’s your game?”

Hylla ran her thumbs along her golden belt. “Orion is a problem. Unlike the other giants, Orion has been walking the earth for centuries. He takes a special interest in killing Amazons, or Hunters, or any female who dares to be strong.”

“Why would he want that?”

A ripple of dread seemed to pass through the girls around her.

Hylla looked at Phoebe. “Do you want to explain? You were there.”

The Hunter’s smile faded. “In the ancient times, Orion joined the Hunters. He was Lady Artemis’s best friend. He had no rivals at the bow—except for the goddess herself, and perhaps her brother, Apollo.”

Reyna shivered. Phoebe looked no older than fourteen. To think that she knew Orion three or four thousand years ago…

“What went wrong?” she asked.

Phoebe’s ears reddened. “Orion crossed the line. He fell in love with Artemis.”

Hylla sniffed. “Always happens with men. They promise friendship. They promise to treat you as an equal. In the end, all they want is to possess you.”

Phoebe picked at her thumbnail. Behind her, the other two Hunters, Naomi and Celyn, shifted uneasily.

“Lady Artemis rebuffed him, of course,” Phoebe said. “Orion became bitter. He started going on longer and longer trips by himself in the wilderness. Finally… I’m not sure what happened. One day Artemis came back to camp and told us Orion had been killed. She refused to speak of it.”

Hylla frowned, which accentuated the white scar across her brow. “Whatever the case, when Orion rose again from Tartarus, he was Artemis’s bitterest enemy. No one can hate you with more intensity than someone who used to love you.”

Reyna understood that. She thought back to a conversation she’d had with the goddess Aphrodite two years ago in Charleston…

“If he’s such a problem,” Reyna said, “why doesn’t Artemis simply slay him again?”

Phoebe grimaced. “Easier said than done. Orion is sneaky. Whenever Artemis is with us, he stays far away. Whenever we Hunters are on our own, like we are now… he strikes without warning and disappears again. Our last lieutenant, Zoë Nightshade, spent centuries trying to track him down and kill him.”

“The Amazons have also tried,” Hylla said. “Orion doesn’t distinguish between us and the Hunters. I think we all remind him too much of Artemis. He sabotages our warehouses, disrupts our distribution centers, kills our warriors—”

“In other words,” Reyna said dryly, “he’s getting in the way of your plans for world domination.”

Hylla shrugged. “Exactly.”

“I’m sorry, world domination?” Bianca repeated.

“Strong women are the future,” Hylla said.

“That’s why you rushed here to intercept me,” Reyna said. “You knew Orion would be right behind me. You’re setting up an ambush. I’m the bait.”

The other girls all found somewhere else to look besides Reyna’s face.

“Oh, please,” Reyna chided, “don’t develop a guilty conscience now. It’s a good plan. How do we proceed?”

“Um, time out,” Bianca said.

Everyone looked at her.

She flushed. “Um, look. I’m all for killing giants, but I really, really do not want to die. Again. Not yet at least. And, excuse me for saying this but, as a daughter of Hades who can tell when people are close to death, I’m telling you that you’re all close to death. Like really close. Orion is coming and he will destroy you all.”

Reyna didn’t like the confidence behind those words. It was one thing to acknowledge death was a possibility in the life of a demigod, but it was another to hear someone say that you were going to die really soon.

Hylla gave Bianca a patronizing smile. “Don’t worry, daughter of Hades. Thalia and most of her Hunters are scouting the perimeter of Viejo San Juan. As soon as Orion gets close, we’ll know. We’ve set traps at every approach. I have my best fighters on alert. We’ll snare the giant. Then, one way or another, we’ll send him back to Tartarus.”

“Can he be killed?” Reyna asked. “I thought most giants could only be destroyed by a god and demigod working together.”

“We intend to find out,” Hylla said. “Once Orion is taken down, your quest will be much easier. We’ll send you on your way with our blessings.”

“Find out?” Bianca screeched. “Find out? You don’t even know if you can kill him! This isn’t a good plan, it’s not even half of a plan! This is idiocy at its finest! Ignore the daughter of Hades who can literally tell you when you’re going to die! Confront an enemy you don’t know if you can actually kill! Wow! Great idea!”

Reyna grabbed Bianca’s arm and squeezed a warning. “Thank you,” she said to her sister, “for your blessings, but we could use more than that. Couldn’t you provide safe transport for the Athena Parthenos? Get us to Camp Half-Blood before August 1—”

“I can’t,” Hylla said. “If I could, sister, I would, but surely you’ve felt the anger radiating from the statue. We Amazons are honorary daughters of Ares. The Athena Parthenos would never tolerate our interference. Besides, you know how the Fates operate. For your quest to succeed, you have to deliver the statue personally.”

Reyna must’ve looked crestfallen.

Phoebe shoulder-bumped her like an over-friendly cat. “Hey, not so glum. We’ll help you as much as we can. The Amazon service department has repaired those metal dogs of yours. And we have some cool parting gifts!”

Celyn handed Phoebe a leather satchel.

Phoebe rummaged inside. “Let’s see… healing potions. Tranquilizer darts like the ones we used on you. Hmm, what else? Oh, yeah!” Phoebe triumphantly produced a rectangle of folded silvery cloth.

“A handkerchief?” Reyna asked.

“Better. Back up a little.” Phoebe tossed the cloth on the floor. Instantly it expanded into a ten-by- ten camping tent.

“It’s air-conditioned,” Phoebe said. “Sleeps four. It has a buffet table and sleeping bags inside. Whatever extra gear you put in it will collapse with the tent. Um, within reason… don’t try to stick your giant statue in there.”

Celyn snickered. “If your male travelling companions get annoying, you could always leave them inside.”

Naomi frowned. “That wouldn’t work… would it?”

“Anyway,” Phoebe said, “these tents are great. I have one just like it; use it all the time. When you’re ready to close it up, the command word is actaeon.”

The tent collapsed into a tiny rectangle. Phoebe picked it up, stuffed it into the satchel and handed the bag to Reyna.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Reyna stammered. “Thank you.”

“Aww…” Phoebe shrugged. “It’s the least I can do for—”

Fifty feet away, a side door banged open. An Amazon ran straight towards Hylla. The newcomer wore a black trouser suit, her long auburn hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Reyna recognized her from the battle at Camp Jupiter. “Kinzie, isn’t it?”

The girl gave her a distracted nod. “Praetor.” She whispered something in Hylla’s ear.

Hylla’s expression hardened. “I see.” She glanced at Reyna. “Something is wrong. We’ve lost contact with the outer defences. I’m afraid Orion—”

“I told you!” Bianca grumbled.

Behind Reyna, the metal doors exploded.

Chapter Text

REYNA REACHED FOR HER SWORD—then realized she didn’t have one.

“Get out of here!” Phoebe readied her bow.

Bianca growled. She let out a furious yell and threw up her hands. A multicolored wall shot up in front of the doorway. It glistened where the light hit it.

“What?” Celyn gasped.

“I didn’t think that would work,” Bianca said, staring at her hands. “Nico did that once with a black rock, but—”

“What is it?” Naomi asked.

“Diamond,” Bianca said. “Among other things. Toughest mortal substance. It should slow them down. Let’s go!”

Hylla didn’t argue. “This way!” She led them through a side door and into a passageway.

They went up a flight of stairs. They navigated a maze of corridors, then rounded a corner into a locker room. They found themselves face to face with a large grey wolf, but before the beast could even snarl Hylla punched it between the eyes. The wolf crumpled.

“Over here, sister.” Hylla ran to the nearest row of lockers. “Your weapons are inside. Hurry.”

Reyna grabbed her knife, her sword and her pack. Then she followed her sister and the Hunters up a circular metal stairwell.

The top dead-ended at the ceiling. Hylla turned and gave her a stern look. “I won’t have time to explain this, all right? Stay strong. Stay close.”

Reyna wondered what could be worse than the scene they’d just left. Hylla pushed open the trapdoor and they climbed through… into their old home.

The main room was just as Reyna remembered. Opaque skylights glowed on the twenty-foot ceilings. The stark white walls were devoid of decoration. The furniture was oak, steel and white leather—impersonal and masculine. Both sides of the room were overhung with terraces, which had always made Reyna feel like she was being watched (because often, she was).

Their father had done everything he could to make the centuries-old hacienda feel like a modern home. He’d added the skylights, painted everything white to make it brighter and airier. But he’d only succeeded in making the place look like a well-groomed corpse in a new suit.

The trapdoor had opened into the massive fireplace. Why they even had a fireplace in Puerto Rico, Reyna had never understood, but she and Hylla used to pretend the hearth was a secret hideout where their father couldn’t find them. They used to imagine they could step inside and go to other places.

Now, Hylla had made that true. She had linked her underground lair to their childhood home.

“Hylla—”

“I told you, we don’t have time.”

“But—”

“I own the building now. I put the deed in my name.”

“You did what?”

“I was tired of running from the past, Reyna. I decided to reclaim it.”

Reyna stared at her, dumbfounded. You could reclaim a lost phone or a bag at the airport. You could even reclaim a hazardous waste dump. But this house and what had happened here? There was no reclaiming that.

“Sister,” Hylla said, “we’re wasting time. Are you coming or not?”

“We need to get back to the statue,” Bianca warned. She shifted nervously. “I don’t like this place. It feels… off.”

Reyna ignored her, eyeing the balconies, half expecting luminous shapes to flicker at the railing. “Have you seen them?”

“Some of them.”

“Him?”

“Of course not,” Hylla snapped. “You know he’s gone for good.”

“I don’t know anything of the sort. How could you come back? Why?”

“To understand!” Hylla shouted. “Don’t you want to know how it happened to him?”

“No! You can’t learn anything from ghosts, Hylla. You of all people should realize—”

“We’re leaving,” Hylla said. “Your friends are a few blocks away. Are you coming with us, or should I tell them you died because you got lost in the past?”

“I’m not the one who took possession of this place!”

Hylla turned on her heel and marched out of the front door.

Reyna looked around one more time. She remembered her last day here, when she was ten years old. She could almost hear her father’s angry roar echoing through the main room, the chorus of wailing ghosts on the balconies.

She ran for the exit. She burst into warm afternoon sunlight and found that the street hadn’t changed—the crumbling pastel houses, the blue cobblestones, dozens of cats sleeping under cars or in the shade of banana trees.

Reyna might have felt nostalgic… except that her sister stood a few feet away, facing Orion.

“Well, now.” The giant smiled. “Both daughters of Bellona together. Excellent!”

Reyna felt personally offended.

She had worked up an image of Orion as a towering ugly demon, even worse than Polybotes, the giant who had attacked Camp Jupiter.

Instead, Orion could have passed for human—a tall, muscular, handsome human. His skin was the color of wheat toast. His dark hair was undercut, swept into spikes on top. With his black leather breeches and jerkin, his hunting knife and his bow and quiver, he might have been Robin Hood’s evil, better-looking brother.

Only his eyes ruined the image. At first glance, he appeared to be wearing military night-vision goggles. Then Reyna realized they weren’t goggles. They were the work of Hephaestus—bronze mechanical eyes embedded in the giant’s sockets. Focusing rings spun and clicked as he regarded Reyna. Targeting lasers flashed red to green. Reyna got the uncomfortable impression he was seeing much more than her form—her heat signature, her heart rate, her level of fear.

At his side he held a black composite bow almost as fancy as his eyes. Multiple strings ran through a series of pulleys that looked like miniature steam-train wheels. The grip was polished bronze, studded with dials and buttons.

He had no arrow nocked. He made no threatening moves. He smiled so dazzlingly it was hard to remember he was an enemy.

Hylla drew her knives. “Reyna, Bianca, go. We will deal with this monster.”

Orion chuckled. “Hylla Twice-Kill, you have courage. So did your lieutenants. They are dead.”

Hylla took a step forward.

Reyna grabbed her arm. “Orion!” she said. “You have enough Amazon blood on your hands. Perhaps it’s time you try a Roman.”

The giant’s eyes clicked and dilated. Red laser dots floated across Reyna’s breastplate. “Ah, the young praetor. I admit, I’ve been curious. Before I slay you, perhaps you’ll enlighten me. Why would a child of Rome go to such lengths to help the Greeks? You have forfeited your rank, abandoned your legion, made yourself an outlaw—and for what? Jason Grace scorned you. Percy Jackson refused you. Haven’t you been… what’s the word… dumped enough?”

Reyna’s ears buzzed. She recalled Aphrodite’s warning, two years ago in Charleston: You will not find love where you wish or where you hope. No demigod shall heal your heart.

She forced herself to meet the giant’s gaze. “I don’t define myself by the boys who may or may not like me.”

“Brave words.” The giant’s smile was infuriating. “But you are no different from the Amazons, or the Hunters, or Artemis herself. You speak of strength and independence. As soon as you face a man of true prowess, your confidence crumbles. You feel threatened by my dominance and how it attracts you. So you run, or you surrender, or you die.”

“How about none of those,” Bianca said.

“The resurrected one,” Orion said. “My mother is quite disappointed in you. You had potential, Bianca di Angelo. But you chose the wrong side of the war. For that, you will suffer when you return to the Underworld.”

Bianca’s face crumpled. “Gaea… Gaea brought me back?”

“Of course she did,” Orion sneered. “Percy Jackson and Jason Grace, they were out of reach. Hera was protecting them. Thalia Grace, well… she has to go. Nico di Angelo claimed Hazel Levesque and something about that boy…” Orion shook his head. “You were the only one left.”

“You thought I would join Gaea?” Bianca spat.

“And you would have,” Orion said. “But those two… outsiders found you first.”

“Back off, Orion,” Phoebe said evenly, leveling her boy at the giant. “We aren’t outsiders.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, Phoebe,” Orion said.

Hylla shrugged off Reyna’s hand. “I will kill you, giant. I will chop you into pieces so small—”

“Hylla,” Reyna interrupted. Whatever else happened here, she could not watch her sister die. Reyna had to keep the giant focused on her. “Orion, you claim to be strong. Yet you couldn’t keep the vows of the Hunt. You died rejected. And now you’re running errands for your mother. So tell me again, how exactly are you threatening?”

Orion’s jaw muscles clenched. His smile became thinner and colder.

“A good try,” he admitted. “You’re hoping to unbalance me. You think, perhaps, if you keep me talking, reinforcements will save you. Alas, Praetor, there are no reinforcements. I burned your sister’s underground lair with her own Greek fire. No one survived.”

Hylla roared and attacked. Orion hit her with the butt of his bow. She flew backwards into the street. Orion pulled an arrow from his quiver.

“Stop!” Reyna yelled.

Her heart hammered in her ribcage. She needed to find the giant’s weakness.

Barrachina was only a few blocks away. If they could make it that far, Nico and Bianca might be able to shadow-travel them away. And the Hunters couldn’t all be dead… They’d been patrolling the entire perimeter of the old city. Surely some of them were still out there…

“Orion, you asked what motivates me.” She kept her voice level. “Don’t you want your answer before you kill us? Surely it must puzzle you, why women keep rejecting a big handsome guy like you.”

The giant nocked his arrow. “Now you have mistaken me for Narcissus. I cannot be flattered.”

“Of course not,” Reyna said. Hylla rose with a murderous look on her face, but Reyna reached out with her senses, trying to share with her sister the most difficult kind of strength—restraint. “Still… it must infuriate you. First you were dumped by a mortal princess—”

“Merope.” Orion sneered. “A beautiful girl, but stupid. If she’d had any sense, she would have understood I was flirting with her.”

“Let me guess,” Reyna said. “She screamed and called for the guards instead.”

“I was without my weapons at the time. You don’t bring your bow and knives when you’re courting a princess. The guards took me easily. Her father the king had me blinded and exiled.”

Just above Reyna’s head, a pebble skittered across a clay-tiled roof. It might have been her imagination, but she remembered that sound from the many nights Hylla would sneak out of her own locked room and creep across the roof to check on her.

It took all of Reyna’s willpower not to glance up.

“But you got new eyes,” she said to the giant. “Hephaestus took pity on you.”

“Yes…” Orion’s gaze became unfocused. Reyna could tell, because the laser targets disappeared from her chest. “I ended up on Delos, where I met Artemis. Do you know how strange it is to meet your mortal enemy and end up being attracted to her?” He laughed. “Praetor, what am I saying? Of course you know. Perhaps you feel for the Greeks as I felt for Artemis—a guilty fascination, an admiration that turns to love. But too much love is poison, especially when that love is not returned. If you do not understand that already, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano, you soon will.”

Hylla limped forward, her knives still in hand. “Sister, why do you let this beast talk? Let’s put him down.”

“I agree,” Naomi said. She drew her knives.

“Can you?” Orion mused. “Many have tried. Even Artemis’s own brother, Apollo, was not able to kill me back in the ancient times. He had to use trickery to get rid of me.”

“He didn’t like you hanging out with his sister?” Reyna listened for more sounds from the roofs, but heard nothing.

“Apollo was jealous.” The giant’s fingers curled around his bowstring. He drew it back, setting the bow’s wheels and pulleys spinning. “He feared I might charm Artemis into forgetting her vows of maidenhood. And who knows? Without Apollo’s interference, perhaps I would have. She would have been happier.”

“As your servant?” Hylla growled. “Your meek little housewife?”

“It hardly matters now,” Orion said. “At any rate, Apollo inflicted me with madness—a bloodlust to kill all the beasts of the earth. I slaughtered thousands before my mother, Gaea, finally put a stop to my rampage. She summoned a giant scorpion from the earth. It stabbed me in the back and its poison killed me. I owe her for that.”

“You owe Gaea,” Reyna said, “for killing you.”

Orion’s mechanical pupils spiralled into tiny, glowing points. “My mother showed me the truth. I was fighting against my own nature, and it brought me nothing but misery. Giants are not meant to love mortals or gods. Gaea helped me accept what I am. Eventually we all must return home, Praetor. We must embrace our past, no matter how bitter and dark.” He nodded his chin towards the villa behind her. “Just as you have done. You have your own share of ghosts, eh?”

Reyna drew her sword. You can’t learn anything from ghosts, she had told her sister. Perhaps she couldn’t learn anything from giants, either.

“This is not my home,” she said. “And we are not alike.”

“I have seen the truth.” The giant sounded truly sympathetic. “You cling to the fantasy that you can make your enemies love you. You cannot, Reyna. There is no love for you at Camp Half-Blood.”

Aphrodite’s words echoed in her head: No demigod shall heal your heart.

Reyna studied the giant’s handsome, cruel face, his glowing mechanical eyes. For a terrible moment, she could understand how even a goddess, even an eternal maiden like Artemis, might fall for Orion’s honeyed words.

“I could have killed you twenty times by now,” the giant said. “You realize that, don’t you? Let me spare you. A simple show of faith is all I need. Tell me where the statue is.”

Reyna almost dropped her sword. Where the statue is…

Orion hadn’t located the Athena Parthenos. The Hunters’ camouflage had worked. All this time, the giant had been tracking Reyna, which meant that even if she died right now Nico and Coach Hedge might stay safe. The quest was not doomed.

She felt as if she’d shed a hundred pounds of armor. She laughed. The sound echoed down the cobblestone street.

“Phoebe outsmarted you,” she said. “By tracking me, you lost the statue. Now my friends are free to continue their mission.”

Orion curled his lip. “Oh, I will find them, Praetor. After I deal with you.”

“Then I suppose,” Reyna said, “we will have to deal with you first.”

“That is my sister,” Hylla said proudly.

Together they charged.

The giant’s first shot would have skewered Reyna, but Hylla was fast. She sliced the arrow out of the air and lunged at Orion. Reyna stabbed at his chest. The giant intercepted both of their attacks with his bow.

He kicked Hylla backwards into the hood of an old Chevy. Half a dozen cats scattered from underneath it. The giant spun, a dagger suddenly in his hand, and Reyna just managed to dodge the blade.

Phoebe and Bianca lay down covering fire with their bows. For a non-Hunter, Bianca was excellent with a bow and arrow. Perhaps from her time spent with the Hunters, or she was just talented in archery.

Reyna stabbed again, ripping through Orion’s leather jerkin, but only managed to graze his chest.

“You fight well, Praetor,” he admitted. “But not well enough to live.”

Reyna willed her blade to extend into a pilum. “My death means nothing.”

If her friends could continue their quest in peace, she was fully prepared to go down fighting. But first she intended to hurt this giant so badly he would never forget her name.

“What about your sister’s death?” Orion asked. “Does that mean something?”

Faster than Reyna could blink, he sent an arrow flying towards Hylla’s chest. A scream built in Reyna’s throat, but somehow Hylla caught the arrow.

Hylla slid off the hood of the car and snapped the arrow with one hand. “I am the queen of the Amazons, you idiot. I wear the royal belt. With the strength it gives me, I will avenge the Amazons you killed today.”

Hylla grabbed the front bumper of the Chevy and flipped the entire car towards Orion, as easily as if she were splashing him with water in a swimming pool. The Chevy sandwiched Orion against the wall of the nearest house. Stucco cracked. A banana tree toppled. More cats fled.

Reyna ran towards the wreckage, but the giant bellowed and shoved away the car.

“You will die together!” he promised. Two arrows appeared nocked in his bow, the string fully drawn back.

Then the rooftops exploded with noise.

“DIE!” Gleeson Hedge dropped directly behind Orion, smacking his baseball bat over the giant’s head so hard the Louisville Slugger cracked in half.

At the same time, Nico di Angelo dropped in front. He slashed his Stygian sword across the giant’s bowstring, causing pulleys and gears to zip and creak, the string recoiling with hundreds of pounds of force until it whacked Orion in the nose like a hydraulic bullwhip.

“OOOOOOOOW!!” Orion staggered backwards, dropping his bow.

“Stay away from my sisters,” Nico hissed.

Hunters of Artemis appeared along the rooftops, shooting Orion full of silver arrows until he resembled a glowing hedgehog. He staggered blindly, holding his nose, his face streaming with golden ichor.

Someone grabbed Reyna’s arm. “Come on!” Thalia Grace had returned.

“Go with her!” Hylla ordered.

Reyna’s heart felt like it was shattering. “Sister—”

“You have to leave! NOW!” It was exactly what Hylla had said to her six years ago, the night they escaped their father’s house. “I’ll delay Orion as long as possible.”

Hylla grabbed one of the giant’s legs. She yanked him off balance and tossed him several blocks down the Calle San Jose, to the general consternation of several dozen more cats. The Hunters ran after him along the rooftops, shooting arrows that exploded in Greek fire, wreathing the giant in flames.

“Your sister’s right,” Thalia said. “You need to go.”

Nico and Hedge fell in alongside her, both looking very pleased with themselves. They had apparently gone shopping at the Barrachina souvenir shop, where they’d replaced their dirty tattered shirts with loud tropical numbers.

“Nico,” Reyna said, “you look—”

“Not a word about the shirt,” he warned. “Not one word.”

“Why did you come looking for me?” she demanded. “You could have got away free. The giant has been tracking me. If you had just left—”

“Like I told Orion,” Nico said. “I needed to make sure he stayed away from my sisters.”

Reyna felt a lump in her throat. “Oh,” she choked out.

“You’re welcome, cupcake,” the coach grumbled. “We weren’t about to leave without you. Now let’s get out of…” He glanced over Reyna’s shoulder and his voice faltered.

Reyna turned.

Behind her, the second-storey balconies of her family house were crowded with glowing figures: a man with a forked beard and rusted conquistador armor; another bearded man in eighteenth-century pirate clothes, his shirt peppered with gunshot holes; a lady in a bloody nightgown; a U.S. Navy captain in his dress whites; and a dozen more Reyna knew from her childhood—all of them glaring at her accusingly, their voices whispering in her mind: Traitor. Murderer.

“No…” Reyna felt like she was ten years old again. She wanted to curl up in the corner of her room and press her hands over her ears to stop the whispering.

“What the…” Bianca said.

“Reyna, come on,” Nico urged.

“I can’t,” she pleaded. “I—I can’t.”

She’d spent so many years building a dam inside her to hold back the fear. Now, it broke. Her strength washed away.

“It’s all right.” Nico gazed up at the balconies.

The ghosts disappeared, but Reyna knew they weren’t really gone. They were never really gone.

“We’ll get you out of here,” Nico promised. “Let’s move.”

Thalia took Reyna’s other arm. The five of them ran for the restaurant and the Athena Parthenos.

Behind them, Reyna heard Orion roaring in pain, Greek fire exploding.

And in her mind the voices still whispered: Murderer. Traitor. You can never flee your crime.

Chapter Text

JASON WAS KINDA SICK of gods running around all over them.

First it was the mountain gods throwing boulders at the Argo II. Then it was Cupid and his stupid forced confession. Then Khione and her brothers managed to freeze everyone but Magnus and Piper. Piper was able to defeat them, but still. That had resulted in Leo getting blown away to Ogygia for a long time. After that, Notus kept them sitting around for a while until he finally gave Jason the hint he needed.

Since then, Jason and his friends had enjoyed relative peace from high and mighty gods. Of course this was when another one chose to interfere in their lives.

At least, that’s what he was pretty sure was happening.

He wasn’t sure how he could tell. Maybe it was some smell in the air or just a chill on the back of his neck. Or maybe it was the fact that it was calm. Too calm.

“Anyone else ready for a fight?” he asked.

Alex gave him an unimpressed look. “Uh, no thank you? Dude, like does anyone listen to the Percy Jackson rules of demigodness?”

“I’m sorry,” Leo said, holding up his hands. “Percy has rules named after him?”

Magnus frowned. “Unofficially? You know, the First Law of Percy Jackson is never say something is going to work out, because as soon as you do, it won’t.Then bad things happen.”

Frank shook his head. “You’re making that up. The Percy Jackson part, I mean.” He blushed. “I know the other part is true.”

“But Jason is asking for a fight,” Hazel pointed out.

“The Second Law of Percy Jackson,” Alex said grimly. “You’ll get a fight if you ask for a fight or if you’re hopeful for too long.”

“Well, are we going to be attacked anytime soon?” Jason asked.

Magnus winced. “According to Nico, yes? He said Kymopo-something is supposed to attack with a storm. I don’t really know. All he said was it was sometime after the chained god’s heartbeat.”

Everyone was silent as they pondered this.

“I don’t see any storms,” Leo said, breaking the silence.

“Well, no sh—”

“Anyway,” Jason said loudly, cutting off Magnus. “We should all keep our eyes peeled for any gods or monsters.”

“Who do you think you are to tell us what to do?”

Jason blinked and turned towards the source of the voice. “What?”

Piper was glaring at him with her arms crossed. “I said who—”

“Pipes!” Leo said with a frown. “What’s up with you?”

“What’s up with me is that I don’t think Jason should be bossing us around!” Piper snapped. “I know Annabeth’s not here, but that doesn’t mean you can just step in and be the leader. We didn’t even vote on that, you just elected yourself in charge because you’ve always been in change and you can’t deal with not being in charge.”

“Piper, why are you saying that?” Hazel asked in astonishment. “Jason isn’t bossing us around. Why would you think that?”

Piper snorted derisively. “Why wouldn’t I think that? Just because he thinks he’s close friends with Nico or whatever doesn’t mean he knows everything.”

Jason flinched back. He didn’t understand why Piper was saying these horrible things. He wasn’t bossing them around, was he? And it wasn’t like he wanted to take over for Annabeth as leader. He much preferred having Annabeth in charge. But Annabeth wasn’t here and everyone had started looking to Jason to make the decisions.

“Eidolons?” Jason asked Hazel.

Hazel shook her head. “No. I don’t understand. It’s Piper, but… it doesn’t sound like Piper.”

“Of course I’m Piper, you idiot,” Piper said, rolling her eyes. “Gods, you would think you would all know that after spending time on the same ship as me.”

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Alex muttered.

“Says the demigod who can’t even decide what gender they are,” Piper scoffed.

Alex’s mouth dropped open. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You heard me,” Piper sneered.

A loud roar cut through the air. Frank shifted out of the form of a lion.

“Stop it!” he ordered. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stop!”

Magnus crossed his arms. “It’s not us who need to stop.”

Frank sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? Nico said we’re supposed to be attacked here. Whatever’s going on with Piper—”

“Just because you got promoted, you think you know what’s going on?” Piper interrupted. “News flash. Jason only promoted you because you were the only other Roman demigod.”

Frank ignored Piper, but Jason could see how Piper’s comment had hurt him. “The Piper we know would never say anything like this—”

“Well, clearly something is making her say this,” Alex said icily. “And it kinda feels like she means them.”

“Stop talking about me!” Piper shouted.

Jason felt his lips glue together. Whether or not Piper had meant what she said, she used charmspeak to say it.

Father, I know you’re busy, but if you could send a sign as to what’s wrong with Piper, that would be amazing, Jason prayed. Lady Aphrodite, maybe you could help too?

“Oh, they can’t help,” a voice said.

Jason looked around to see who spoke, but all his friends looked as bewildered as him. Then his heart stopped as a familiar figure took form before them. But he was different too.

Blue jeans in place of white jeans. T-shirt with some cheesy rom-com line instead of a white frock. Wings extended from his back—gold butterfly wings. A quiver of arrows was slung across his back and a bow was held carelessly in his left hand. His hair was straight and black.

“Cupid?” Jason asked in a strangled voice. Oh, I can speak now.

The man’s lips turned upwards. “We do look alike, don’t we. No, Jason Grace. I am not Cupid. I do prefer to call him Eros, if you don’t mind.” He mockingly bowed gracefully. “Anteros. God of requited love.” His eyes connected with Jason’s. “Avenger of unrequited love.”

“What did you do to Piper?” Hazel demanded.

Jason had to hand it to Hazel. There weren’t many who would instantly reach the conclusion that a god made their friend go crazy and then start yelling at said god.

There probably weren’t many people in that situation to be honest.

Anteros looked offended. “What did I do to her? Nothing! She did this to herself.”

Now that Anteros had introduced himself, Jason could see the differences between him and Cupid—Eros, whatever. Anteros looked like Eros’s twin. Same hair color, same facial and body structure, same sadistic idea about love (yeah, okay, so he was guessing on that one, but Jason didn’t think it was too far of a stretch to guess that was true).

But the wings were different shapes. Eros had wings like an angel. Anteros had wings like a butterfly. And the hair. Eros had long black hair, but Anteros had even longer hair that seemed to become weightless at the ends. It floated around the god in an ethereal way. And their eyes. Cupid had poisonous, blood-red eyes. Anteros had red eyes that were softer.

“Fix her,” Jason said steely. He stared Anteros right in the eyes. “Fix. Piper. Now.”

Anteros widened his eyes and held up his hands in protest. “I told you. I didn’t do this. Well, okay, maybe a little.” He smirked. “I did say I’m the avenger of unrequited love, didn’t I? Her heart will never belong to another for the love she threw away.”

Jason’s mouth fell open in horror. “What?”

Even Alex—who had been busy glaring swords, daggers, knives, and spears into Piper—looked at Anteros in astonishment.

“The part of Piper who loves others and can be loved by others is still in there somewhere,” Anteros shrugged. “She’ll watch her own interactions with others, fall in love maybe, but her love can never be returned—never requited. Who could stand to be around her now?”

“Us,” Leo said furiously. “Her best friends! And now that we know you’ve done this to her, we’re going to fix it.”

“There’s nothing to fix.” Until now, Piper had been silently watching the exchange, eyes darting back and forth between Anteros and the demigods. She crossed her arms. “I mean, seriously. I don’t know who any of you think you are. It’s my life and I can act however the Hades I want. I’m done sitting back and smiling and nodding along. I am way more than just a—”

CLANG!

Piper toppled forward and sprawled out on the deck unconscious. A sheepish and apologetic Frank stood behind her holding a metal disc.

“She would have said something else she would regret saying once we fix her,” he said.

Anteros sighed. “I told you, you cannot just fix her.”

“Listen, butterfly boy,” Leo said, pointing a box of breath mints at the god. “We aren’t listening to Gaea when she tells us to give up, so we certainly aren’t listening to you. There’s always a way to fix things. And I’m pretty good at fixing things if I do say so myself.”

“That will be difficult,” a new voice cut in.

Jason blinked. Another winged man stood besides Anteros. If Anteros was the twin of Eros, this man was the exact opposite of the two. His hair was short, blonde, and curly. A colorful headband like what Jason saw in ancient sculptures and coins was tied around his head. His eyes were an inky black.

“Considering it is I who controls the girl’s love,” the new man continued.

“Eros?” Hazel guessed.

Jason shook his head.

“Himeros,” the man corrected. “God of unrequited love and desire.” He smirked. “I receive those who Anteros hits with his lead arrows. And your friend is one such victim.”

Chapter Text

JASON WASN’T SURE WHO WAS WORSE: Cupid or his winged associates Anteros and Himeros.

Himeros frowned at Piper’s crumpled form. “You knocked out someone you claim to be friends with?”

“I knocked her out because she’s my friend,” Frank said firmly. He looked pale, but he stood his ground against the love gods.

“Well that’s certainly not a loving action you took,” Himeros said. “Were there no other ways? Kinder ways? What does it say about your friendship if you immediately chose the most volatile way of shutting her up?”

Frank was chewing his lip now. His eyes darted to Piper uncertainly.

“Piper was saying horrible things,” Hazel took over. She narrowed her eyes at Anteros. “Things you made her say because of your lead arrows.” She looked at Himeros. “You say her love is under your command? Then fix her. Now.”

Himeros smiled at Hazel. “Can you forgive her? Can you forget what she said? What she thought?”

“Idiot is a childish insult,” Hazel said flatly. “Everyone’s been called an idiot and you don’t see us all holding grudges against every person who’s called us that.”

“Can you forgive her?” Himeros asked, turning away from Hazel and towards Alex.

Alex’s face was stoic. She stared down at the ground without answering.

“Can you look her in the eyes and pretend everything is fine after what she said?” Himeros egged on. “Who is she to make those remarks?”

“No,” Alex snapped. She glared at Himeros. “No, I can’t just ignore it, but…” she swallowed. “But it’s you who’s the problem. You two did this. You made her like this. And you’re going to undo it. Then I can figure out what I’m going to forgive or not.”

“Yeah, and we aren’t going to let some discount Cupids tear us apart,” Leo agreed.

Anteros made a strangled noise. “Did you say discount Cupids?”

“Got a problem with that?” Leo asked challengingly.

“No one knows who we are,” Himeros scowled. “Cupid gets all the credit.”

“Why do you even have a bunch of love gods?” Leo continued. “Like Aphrodite is the goddess of love and she’s an Olympian, and I guess there’s Cupid too for some reason, but like… four gods is overkill, don’t you think?”

Jason really wished Leo would stop talking before one of these gods killed him.

“Aphrodite is more of an umbrella love goddess,” Anteros said. “All love. But her Erotes are more specific types of love. Eros is the more, ah, erotic love god. I deal in requited love and avenge unrequited love. Himeros is unrequited love and desire. Hedylogos is the god of sweet-talk and flattery. Hymenaios is the god of marriage ceremonies. Pothos is the god of longing and desire.”

Jason glanced around. “Uh, no one else is coming, right?”

Himeros had a distant look on his face. “One more. Eventually. But, no, he is not one of the Erotes.” A slight look of distaste crossed his face.

That was a relief. Eros had been a nightmare. Yeah, it wasn’t as bad as what Nico had definitely gone through the first time, but it made Jason sick that the love god was planning to out Nico so violently like that. What was even sicker was that Eros had used the scepter of Dioclecian—something Nico and Jason desperately needed—as a bargaining chip to get the response he wanted out of Nico.

With Anteros and Himeros here and Piper apparently attacked by the god who avenges unrequited love, Jason didn’t really like the direction this was heading in. He wasn’t sure if this happened to Percy and Nico in the original timeline. He doubted it since Nico would surely have warned him.

However, Jason didn’t think these Erotes were the worst of their problems. According to Himeros, there was another god coming, but this god was not part of the Erotes. And it didn’t seem like Himeros liked the guy too much.

“Why are you doing this?” Jason tried.

Anteros sighed. “I avenge unrequited love, Jason Grace. I do so by making sure no one will ever return her love the way she does not return your love.”

Jason’s face burned. He could feel all the eyes of his friends on him.

“You had no right,” he hissed. “You had no right to say that. But I would never, never wish this on my worst enemy. Piper deserves love, and I hope she finds it. Because when you… when you love someone,” his voice cracked, “you want what’s best for them. Even if that’s not with you. So fix her right now!”

“Unfortunately, Jason Grace,” Anteros said, “avenging you was not the only reason I did this.” He spread his hands. “Himeros and I were approached by an old acquaintance of ours. He asked for our help. You see, we owe him a favor and he has come to cash it in before the world ends.”

Magnus frowned. “Who? Kronos? You seem like the kind of guy to be friends with an evil Titan.”

“Ah, Magnus Chase,” Anteros said. “He very much would like to kill you. He isn’t happy with you at the moment.”

Jason looked at Magnus. The Norse demigod’s face was drained of color.

“He’s your acquaintance?” Magnus asked shrilly.

There wasn’t time to ask Magnus who the Erotes were talking about before another man appeared on the deck of the Argo II.

The man had tousled dirty blonde feathery hair with hints of red, blonde, and yellow. He would have been quite handsome if it wasn’t for the burn tissue across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones and the row of welts around his mouth. He was wearing a Red Sox jersey which Jason took as a personal offense considering Annabeth owned a Yankees hat—like only Yankees fans allowed on this ship, buddy.

“Mom,” Alex said flatly.

Leo did a double take. “Mom? Like… mom-mom? Your mom?”

“This is…” Hazel trailed off.

“Loki,” Magnus finished.

Chapter Text

LOKI GRINNED WITH HIS SCARRED LIPS. “Hello, Alex, dear. So nice to see you again.” He looked at Magnus. “And the boyfriend too! You lied to me, Magnus Chase. You told me you didn’t know where Sumarbrander was.” He pointed to the pendant on Magnus’s necklace. “I see you’ve had it all along.”

“You’re stuck in a cave,” Alex said, stepping forward. “You have no power. The only reason you captured us was because you could control Sam. Well,” she spread her arms, “you can’t control me.”

“I don’t need to control you, Alex,” Loki said. “You’ll choose to come with me. If you come with me, your… friends will be free to continue on their quest to save the world and I will undo the love magic on the daughter of Aphrodite.” He smiled. “Of course, Magnus Chase will come with us. I need his sword.”

“And if I don’t?” Magnus asked.

Loki looked appalled. “You would deny me a moment with my own child?”

“You forfeited any parenting rights you had when you kidnapped me,” Alex said coldly.

“If you don’t, then I suppose the world will end and there will be nothing you can do about it,” Loki shrugged. “You’d both die of course, that’s what you get for throwing in with the Greeks and their little immortal family spats. Gaea has no love for either of you, but she may forgive you if you come with me.”

“Or we could fight you,” Hazel said, drawing her spatha. “Fix Piper ourselves, and save the world with Magnus and Alex by our sides.”

“Unfortunately, the only way for you to fix your friend is to take Loki’s offer,” Himeros said. “Lead arrows, well, they’re finicky things. Only certain magics can undo them. If you pass up this offer, you won’t find another way unless…” he trailed off when Loki sent him a sharp look.

Jason’s eyes were trained to find his enemy’s weakness. He latched onto the look. There was something Loki didn’t want them to know. Loki needed Alex and Magnus to come willingly, that much was obvious. Which meant that he had to make sure they took his deal.

You won’t find another way unless…

What was this other way? If they could find this other way to save Piper…

“Anteros, you have to stop this,” Jason pleaded. “Don’t let this happen.”

Anteros regarded him with his red eyes. “Why? I am repaying a debt by granting Loki an audience with the Norse ones. Either way, no matter what they choose and no matter what the outcome of the war, love is eternal. I cannot be easily replaced. I do not oppose Gaea. I do not oppose the gods. I will survive into the new world.”

“Surviving isn’t living,” Jason said. “If Gaea let’s you live, what kind of a life is that going to be? I don’t think it’s going to be one with a lot of love. There’s no need for a love god when you live in a world without love.”

“Don’t tell me you guys are considering this,” Leo said, looking at Magnus and Alex worriedly. “We need you.”

“Need them?” Loki scoffed. “What are they doing? Tagging along while the Greek and Roman heroes save the world?” He looked at Magnus and Alex. “You aren’t even part of the Seven of the prophecy. Your presence or lack thereof will not affect the outcome.”

Oops.

“Considering they are part of the Seven,” Jason said, stepping forward, “I think their presence will affect the outcome.” He thrust his sword in the sky and thunder shook the Argo II . Lightning blasted down towards Loki.

When the blast died down, Loki was nowhere to be found. The only thing left was a singed spot on the deck.

“Uh, hey!” Leo protested. “Look what you just did to my ship!”

“Is he… gone?” Hazel asked, casting confused looks around the ship. “That was really easy. Should it have been that easy?”

“Ouch!”

Jason turned around to see Loki leaning against the rail casually.

“I don’t like the people you associate with, Alex,” Loki said.

“So glad I don’t give a damn,” Alex muttered.

Loki wagged a finger at Jason. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“No!” Jason stormed up to him and held his sword against the god’s throat. “You know what isn’t nice? Using people to get what you want. The Titans did it last summer. Gaea and the giants are doing it. Octavian is doing it. Their buddy Cupid did it. Heck, the gods do it too. And now you’re doing it.”

“If your gods use people, what does that mean for you?” Loki asked slyly. He cocked an eyebrow. “Aren’t you the one they’re using?”

“Maybe they are using me,” Jason said. “But I’m not in this for them. I’m doing this because people I care about are going to die if Gaea wins. The world will end if Gaea wins. No more humans, no more friends, no more love, no more anything.”

He would have liked to have zapped Loki with more lightning for good measure, but when he tried to summon some more lightning, nothing happened. If Jason ever met his dad, he’d have to petition for an increased daily allowance of bolts.

“He is right about that,” Himeros mused. “The amount of people we could make fall in love or fall out of love with would go down drastically. But it’s not like anyone would care. Hardly anyone knows about us.”

“Well, we do,” Frank said. “Which means that if the world ends and we die, there actually will be less people who know about you.”

Jason had to applaud Frank for his deductive thinking.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Anteros challenged.

It was really hard to think up an answer when you were busy pinning Loki between the Argo II’s rails and the pointy end of a sword. Loki’s eyes bored into Jason’s like he was challenging Jason to do his worst. They reminded Jason of a fire, waiting for the right wind to blow and set the world ablaze.

“A shrine,” he said, gaze not leaving Loki. “I will personally arrange a shrine for the Erotes on Temple Hill in New Rome. And I’ll raise one at Camp Half-Blood as well. You’ll be honored and worshipped by Greeks and Romans. They’ll come to you for specific love questions instead of just Aphrodite. But I can only do that if the world doesn’t end. And that means Magnus and Alex come with us, not Loki.” He pressed his blade closer to Loki’s neck.

“You need your friend to help save the world,” Loki spat. “If you want her healed before she has to play her part, you need my help. Otherwise you’ll have doomed your quest. Someone without love cannot hope to accomplish the task she has to complete.”

“There’s another way,” Jason said. “We’re going to find that way. We don’t need your help.”

“I would like a shrine,” Anteros said. “Even if we have to share. The Nine Muses have to share, you know.”

“And we did fulfill our end of the deal,” Himeros added.

“Jason!” Leo called. “Hera in the Wolf House!”

Hera in the Wolf House?

Jason’s eyes widened. He pushed away from a startled Loki and squeezed his eyes shut. A wave of heat seared over his body like someone had decided to shine a hundred heat lamps on him. A roar of outrage campe from the direction Loki was in before it ended abruptly. Then everything stopped. The heat that warmed Jason’s body was gone and he shivered.

Jason opened his eyes.

“Did you kill him?” Alex asked, sounding mildly interested.

“Unfortunately not,” Anteros said. “Loki is not destined to die by our hands as you well know. He needed Himeros and I to lead him to your location, but he is still chained in his cave. He will not be able to return without help.”

Alex shrugged. “Wishful thinking.” She gave Jason an impressed look. “Good going, Grace.”

Jason ignored her. He looked at the two Erotes. “What’s the other way to save Piper?”

Chapter Text

HIMEROS AND ANTEROS EXCHANGED LOOKS.

“Loki was not lying,” Anteros said slowly. “His magic would have healed her instantly.”

Jason swallowed. “But there is another way?”

“An act of love,” Himeros said. “It sounds cliche, but without powerful magic, how else do you expect to return love to someone? Someone must show Piper McLean an act of true love to heal her heart. Romantic, platonic, doesn’t matter. As long as the intention is pure and true love for Piper, that will be enough.”

“Like, true love kiss?” Magnus asked in disbelief.

Anteros threw his hands up in the air. “I hate Disney princesses! Teaching kids that all you need to break a spell is true love’s kiss. You cannot heal her with a kiss, she doesn’t love any of you at the moment. Besides, consent is important,” he said, eyeing them warily.

“So we have to do something to show Piper we love her?” Hazel asked. “That’s easy.”

“Not so,” Himeros said. “You have a selfish intention. You want your friend back to normal. If you do something with that goal in mind, it won’t work. You see now why it seems unlikely that you will heal your friend before it is time to face Gaea and her giants.”

“Loki said Piper had a role to play,” Jason recalled. “She can’t play it if she’s like this, can she?”

“Oh no, she can,” Anteros assured him. “Whether or not she wants to is up to her.”

“She actively hates our guts now,” Frank said. “How are we supposed to get her to help us.”

Anteros sighed. “That initial outburst was the lead arrow settling in. Now that it has had time to diffuse… Have you seen that television show with all the monsters and the angels and the demons?”

“Camp Half-Blood doesn’t have cable,” Leo said.

“I haven’t had access to a TV in a long time,” Magnus added.

“The one with the two brothers,” Anteros said. “No? Well, there’s this one season where one of them loses his soul. She’ll be like that. Soulless.”

“Soulless?” Frank repeated. “Like… in Harry Potter? Like Dementor’s Kiss victims?”

“What the— No!” Himeros snapped. “Not like Harry Potter. She can still function. She just can’t make emotional decisions because she is not capable of having any emotions.”

“Good thing this happened after the chained god’s heartbeat,” Magnus muttered. “Piper made a lot of emotional decisions.”

“And now, Jason Grace,” Anteros said, looking at him. “We need to talk.”

Frank, Leo, and Hazel had carried Piper below decks back to her cabin. Magnus and Alex retreated below decks too, but Jason kinda doubted they were going to sit with Piper until she woke up.

“You shouldn’t have done that to Piper,” Jason said as soon as his friends were gone. “You should not have done that.”

“I avenged an unrequited love,” Anteros said. “Should I not have done my job?”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Jason said. “Whatever Cupid—Eros—told you about what happened… I don’t know. He’s lying. Yeah, I love Piper, but I would never wish something like this.”

“Yes, mother is likely going to be mad at me,” Anteros agreed. “She gets a little touchy when we interfere in her kids’ lives. But that’s not why I held you back.”

“The shrine,” Jason said.

“Yes,” Himeros said cheerfully. “A shrine for the Erotes. You truly mean to deliver what you say?”

Jason didn’t really feel like following through, not for the Erotes. But he didn’t think he’d be doing Piper—or himself—any favors by refusing.

“I will,” Jason said. “When we win this war—and we will win—I’m going to make sure all the gods get recognized. Percy Jackson started that last summer when he asked for cabins for all the gods children. I’m going to finish the job.” Jason didn’t know where these words were coming from, but the idea felt absolutely right. “I’ll make sure none of the gods are forgotten at either camp. Maybe they’ll get temples, or cabins, or at least shrines—”

“Valentine’s Day merchandise,” Himeros suggested. “Eros gets all the credit for that holiday.”

“Yes, because everyone wants to remember you on the day of love,” Anteros said, rolling his eyes.

Himeros ignored him. “I would like Valentine’s Day merch.”

“I’ll look into that,” Jason said with an awkward smile.

Himeros gave Anteros a triumphant look.

“I doubt you will see this as much, but be warned, Jason Grace,” Anteros said. “You have a hard path ahead of you. You will be tricked. You will face unbearable sorrow.”

“Great,” Jason sighed. “Any pointers on defeating Gaea? I might find that helpful.”

“A primordial god has been defeated only once before,” Himeros said. “Your friends in Tartarus nearly made it twice, but they didn’t do it quite right.”

Jason’s insides started swirling faster than a ventus. “Ouranos, the first god of the sky. My friends in Tartarus? Percy and Annabeth? They fought a primordial? But that means—”

“Yes.” Anteros’s red eyes looked almost sad. “Let us hope it does not come to that. If Gaea does wake… well, your task will not be easy. But, if you win, remember your promise, Pontifex.”

Jason took a moment to process his words. “I’m not a priest.”

“If you say so,” Anteros shrugged. “But we must leave. I do,” he looked almost embarrassed, “apologize for your friend. But I’ve never met a more resilient group of heroes. If anyone can heal your friend, I believe you can.”

“Good luck,” Himeros said.

Jason turned away as the two gods flashed out. He looked towards the door to below decks, thinking about what they had told him.

A primordial god has been defeated only once before…

That would be Ouranos when Gaea tricked him into coming down to earth. Their children, the Titans, held Ouranos down while Kronos cut Ouranos into pieces with his scythe. And if what Himeros said about Percy and Annabeth fighting a primordial was correct, that would mean they fought Tartarus himself. But they fought him in Tartarus. Ouranos was away from his home territory when he was defeated.

Was that the key?

Jason recalled a line from the prophecy: To storm or fire the world must fall. He had an idea what that meant now, and he didn’t like it. Today was July 27. In five days, Jason would know if he was right.

He decided not to dwell on that for too long.

Instead, he thought about what Anteros called him. Pontifex. The Romans used to have a Pontifex Maximus, who oversaw all the proper sacrifices and whatnot, to make sure none of the gods got mad. Now that he thought about it, what he offered to do did sound like a pontifex’s job.

He was looking forward to it, to be honest. After Juno—Hera, whatever—did her exchange program thing, Jason couldn’t imagine staying only at Camp Jupiter, but he couldn’t imagine staying only at Camp Half-Blood either. Camp Jupiter was his home for years. Camp Half-Blood was home away from home. Jason liked the idea of going back and forth between the two camps. Assuming they still existed by the end of the week.

Jason headed towards the door to go below deck. He felt better, like he had a clear path ahead of him. He was a Roman demigod, but he couldn’t just push aside the Greek aspect. Like he’d told the ghosts at Ithaca, his family had just got bigger. Now he saw his place in it.

Jason entered Piper’s room to see Frank, Leo, and Hazel sitting around the bed they had laid Piper in. Magnus and Alex were there too—surprisingly. The Norse demigods stood next to each other, Alex leaning back against the cabin wall.

“They gone?” Magnus asked.

Jason nodded.

“Good.”

No one brought up what the Erotes had said about Jason and Piper. Jason wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not.

“She’s waking up,” Hazel whispered. “What do we do?”

Piper’s eyes fluttered open. She sat up quickly. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked. Her tone was sharp, but it wasn’t the poison dipped words from earlier.

“Piper,” Hazel said gently. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Magnus was saying something about Kym-something attacking,” Piper said, rubbing the back of her head. “Ow. Did I get knocked out?”

Frank looked at Jason guiltily.

“It’s a long story,” Jason said.

Chapter Text

PIPER’S WORDS STILL RANG IN HER EARS.

Says the demigod who can’t even decide what gender they are.

Wow, so original. How many times had she heard that before? A handful of times from kids at school? Maybe every other week from her step-mother? Not in so many words from her own father? Yeah, the insult had kinda lost the element of surprise.

The thing that surprised Alex the most was the voice of the person who’d said it. She’d been prepared for monsters to throw it in her face. She’d been prepared for Gaea to taunt her at some point. Even the giants.

But not Piper McLean.

What?

You heard me.

Alex cleared her throat. “I’m going to duck out,” she announced. “Jason, you can handle filling her in on everything she missed, right?”

Jason’s blue eyes screamed apologies at her. He nodded. “Sure. Yeah. Uh, I think it’s safe to say we probably won’t be running into Kym-something this time, so—”

“I’ll keep an eye out anyway,” Alex interrupted. She brushed past the other demigods and exited Piper’s cabin.

Once the door was shut behind her, Alex let out a shuddering breath. She couldn’t rest yet though. Alex took a deep breath and headed down the hall and up the stairs to the deck.

The sun was shining and there wasn’t a storm cloud in sight. Jason was probably right. Kym-what’s-her-name wouldn’t be bothering them today.

“Hey.”

Alex turned to see Magnus following her out onto the deck. He shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

“Hey,” she said back.

They stood at the rail around the deck in silence for a moment.

“Don’t tell me Jason sent you up here to talk to me,” Alex finally said.

“He didn’t.”

“Frank?”

Magnus shook his head. “Nah. I think he might want to give you a big teddy bear hug though. As if that solves the problem.”

“A Frank teddy bear hug might,” Alex allowed with a small smile. “Was it Hazel or Leo?”

“Definitely not Leo,” Magnus said firmly. “But Hazel didn’t send me either. I came by myself.”

Alex traced a finger over the railing. “I appreciate it, but I’m fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before.”

“I know you’re fine,” Magnus agreed. “You can take care of yourself. I—I love that about you, but that doesn’t mean you have to. Besides, I’m your boyfriend, right? Isn’t it my job to beat up anyone who gives you a hard time?”

“You’re going to beat up Piper McLean, Magnus?” Alex snorted.

“I can try.”

Alex’s smile faded. “Magnus? If you’re my boyfriend… what am I?”

“Right now? My girlfriend. Unless you’d prefer something like Nico and Will’s significant annoyance thing.” Magnus raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes, you can be significantly annoying.”

“Haha,” Alex said sarcastically. “And what about tomorrow? What will I be tomorrow?”

“Dunno,” Magnus shrugged casually. “As good as I am about knowing which gender at the moment, I can’t actually tell the future.” He crossed his arms. “If this is about what Piper said—”

“It’s not.”

“—it doesn’t matter,” Magnus finished. “Not to me or anyone who cares.”

“That used to include Piper,” Alex said.

“I’m not going to defend what she said, but… that wasn’t Piper,” Magnus said. “She would never say that.”

Alex ran a hand through her hair. “Yeah. I know. That’s the part that sucks about all this. She never would have said this.”

“Things are changing,” Magnus said quietly. “A lot of things. Whether or not we like them.”

“That sucks too,” Alex sighed.

“I was talking to Piper when we went looking for the heartbeat in Sparta,” Magnus said. “I told her that I was worried we were replacing Percy and Annabeth. That’s what it feels like, you know? She said that we weren’t replacing anyone and she has to believe that the changes we make are for the better. How is this for the better?”

Alex shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sniffed. “Weren’t you coming here to cheer me up or whatever? Why are we talking about this? This is depressing.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m kidding, Magnus. Well, not about the depressing part, but… Thank you.” Alex gave Magus a smile. “For coming out here. You’re a pretty okay guy.”

“I’m overwhelmed by your compliment.”

“Of course you are.”

“Seriously. I don’t know how I could be allowed to bask in your presence. I’m so unworthy.”

Alex elbowed him. “Shut up.”

“Hey!” Frank called, rushing over. He took a minute to catch his breath. “Jason got her all caught up on, you know, the thing with, uh, Loki and the, um, other gods.”

Alex rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to burst into tears, Frank. Don't treat me like I'm made of glass.”

Frank winced. “Sorry. I’m just… um, never mind. Are you okay? I mean, you probably aren’t, but I thought I should ask because you’re my friend and—”

“Frank,” Alex interrupted. She placed her hands on his shoulders. “Deep breaths. I’m cool. You said Jason told Piper about the Erotes and Loki showing up.”

“Right,” Frank nodded. “Uh, so the thing is… She doesn’t remember anything. And we didn’t want to tell her about the initial stage of the lead arrow settling in because if we can fix this then Piper shouldn’t have to remember what she did, I guess. I don’t know. But Jason said we should talk to you two first.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex said. “Piper doesn’t need that on her conscience when we cure her. I’m over it anyway. As dumb as it is, it’s nothing I haven’t heard before. So let’s just… forget about it.”

“I’ll go tell Jason, then,” Frank said. He turned and headed back below decks.

Magnus squeezed Alex’s hand. “You sure?”

“Can’t blame Piper, can I?” Alex asked, staring straight ahead over the blue water. “But I do blame someone. I’m not over it. Mommy dearest thought he could win me over by destroying my friend. I have a countdown started, Magnus. Six months until you’re supposed to die. Six months until we know Loki’s going to get a lot more involved in our lives. When he does, I’m going to make him wish he killed us in Alaska.”

“By the way, I don’t plan to die,” Magnus said.

“I don’t plan to let you die,” Alex said. She gripped his hand tighter.

“Here’s to not dying,” Magnus said.

Alex snorted. “Wish there was mead on this ship. I’d drink to that.”

They headed back down below decks.

Chapter Text

GIVEN A CHOICE between death and the Buford Zippy Mart, Nico would’ve had a tough time deciding. At least he knew his way around the Land of the Dead. Plus the food was fresher.

“I still don’t get it,” Coach Hedge muttered as they roamed the center aisle. “They named a whole town after Leo’s table?”

“I think the town was here first, Coach,” Nico said.

“Huh.” The coach picked up a box of powdered doughnuts. “Maybe you’re right. These look at least a hundred years old. I miss those Portuguese farturas.”

Nico couldn’t think about Portugal without his arms hurting. Across his biceps, the werewolf claw marks were still swollen and red. He figured if this journey didn’t kill him, Will probably would when he got back to Camp.

They bought a first-aid kit, a pad of paper (so Coach Hedge could write more paper airplane messages to his wife), some junk food and soda (since the banquet table in Reyna’s new magic tent only provided healthy food and fresh water) and some miscellaneous camping supplies for Coach Hedge’s useless but impressively complicated monster traps.

Nico had been hoping to find some fresh clothes. Two days since they’d fled San Juan, he was tired of walking around in his tropical ISLA DEL ENCANTORICO shirt, especially since Coach Hedge had a matching one. Unfortunately, the Zippy Mart only carried T-shirts with Confederate flags and corny sayings like KEEP CALM AND FOLLOW THE REDNECK. Nico decided he’d stick with parrots and palm trees.

The tropical shirt was kind of growing on him at this point anyway. But he wouldn’t dare say that outloud.

They walked back to the campsite down a two-lane road under the blazing sun. This part of South Carolina seemed to consist mostly of overgrown fields, punctuated by telephone poles and trees covered in kudzu vines. The town of Buford itself was a collection of portable metal sheds—six or seven, which was probably also the town’s population.

Nico welcomed the warmth. It reminded him of Will and made him feel more substantial—anchored to the mortal world. With every shadow-jump, coming back got harder and harder. Even in broad daylight his hand passed through solid objects. His belt and sword kept falling around his ankles for no apparent reason. Once, when he wasn’t looking where he was going, he walked straight through a tree.

The first time he’d done this, Nico hadn’t cared if he came back alive. He didn’t have anything keeping him tied to the world of the living. Now, though? Now he had friends and a place at Camp Half-Blood. He had Bianca back. He had Hazel. Most of all, he had Will Solace. If he didn’t come back from this alive, Nico would lose a lot.

Nico and Hedge had no trouble finding their way back to camp. The Athena Parthenos was the tallest landmark for miles around. In its new camouflage netting, it glittered silver like an extremely flashy forty-foot-tall ghost.

Apparently, the Athena Parthenos had wanted them to visit a place with educational value, because she’d landed right next to a historical marker that read MASSACRE OF BUFORD, on a gravel layby at the intersection of Nowhere and Nothing.

Reyna’s tent sat in a grove of trees about thirty yards back from the road. Nearby lay a rectangular cairn—hundreds of stones piled in the shape of an oversized grave with a granite obelisk for a headstone. Scattered around it were faded wreaths and crushed bouquets of plastic flowers, which made the place seem even sadder.

Aurum and Argentum were playing keep-away in the woods with one of the coach’s handballs. Ever since getting repaired by the Amazons, the metal dogs had been frisky and full of energy—unlike their owner.

Reyna sat cross-legged at the entrance of the tent, staring at the memorial obelisk. Bianca was next to her. Reyna hadn’t said much since they fled San Juan two days ago.

They’d also not encountered any monsters, which made Nico uneasy. They’d had no further word from the Hunters or the Amazons. They didn’t know what had happened to Hylla, or Thalia, or the giant Orion.

As much as he didn’t like the Hunters, Nico didn’t want them to die. He did like Thalia, but not what she did. He wished he could have gotten her a better message like Orion is coming, please bring giant killing explosives when you intercept us and maybe a spare god you have lying around just in case.

When Nico had woken up at Barrachina and found the Hunters’ note about kidnapping Reyna and Bianca, he’d torn apart the courtyard in rage. It was stupid. He knew he’d get them back, but a part of him wondered if Thalia meant to force Bianca to rejoin the Hunters. And Reyna… she would one day leave him and join the Hunters too. Nico wasn’t prepared for that to happen anytime soon. He was relieved when that turned out not to be the case.

That relief only lasted until Nico saw how brooding Reyna had become. It reminded him too much of himself. But every time Nico tried to ask Reyna about the incident on the Calle San Jose—those ghosts on the balcony, all staring at her, whispering accusations—Reyna shut him down. She hadn’t even opened up to Bianca during the times Nico’s sister silently sat with her.

And, yeah, okay, so Nico already knew what was up. But he didn’t think Reyna would take too kindly to him blurting out that he knew. When she was ready, she would tell him. Even if it kinda hurt that she wasn’t ready now.

Nico knew it would take time to build up the same relationship he had with Reyna. Despite that, he had blatantly told Reyna she was his sister. Because she was, and nothing could change the fact that he saw her that way. It still hurt that she wouldn’t open up to him though.

Reyna glanced up as they approached. “I figured it out.”

“What historical site this is?” Hedge asked. “Good, ’cause it’s been driving me crazy.”

“The Battle of Waxhaws,” she said.

“Ah, right…” Hedge nodded sagely. “That was a vicious little smackdown.”

Bianca frowned. “Are you sure?”

Nico was sure she was trying to sense for the restless spirits that were normal for a battle ground. He unconsciously had done the same only to find there weren’t any. Something pulled at the back of his mind and alarm bells rang in his head.

He scowled. The downside of time travel was the memories of two different timelines were stored in his normal human sized brain which meant that some things were forgotten at random times. He started to sympathize with Apollo’s “cramming thousands of years of immortal life into a mortal brain causes memory loss” plight.

“In 1780,” Reyna said. “The American Revolution. Most of the Colonial leaders were Greek demigods. The British generals were Roman demigods.”

“Because England was like Rome back then,” Nico said. “A rising empire.”

Reyna picked up a crushed bouquet. “I think I know why we landed here. It’s my fault.”

“Ah, come on,” Hedge scoffed. “The Buford Zippy Mart isn’t anybody’s fault. Those things just happen.”

Reyna picked at the faded plastic flowers. “During the Revolution, four hundred Americans got overtaken here by British cavalry. The Colonial troops tried to surrender, but the British were out for blood. They massacred the Americans even after they threw down their weapons. Only a few survived.”

“Unless Bellona shoved you into the Lotus Casino for a year I don’t see how you could be responsible for something you weren’t even alive to impact,” Nico said.

Reyna’s eyes flicked to him. “The British commander was Banastre Tarleton.”

Hedge snorted. “I’ve heard of him. Crazy dude. They called him Benny the Butcher.”

“Yes…” Reyna took a shaky breath. “He was a son of Bellona.”

“Oh.” Nico stared at the oversized grave. It still bothered him that he couldn’t sense any spirits and he didn’t know why that was setting off the alarms in his head. Hundreds of soldiers massacred at this spot… that should’ve sent out some kind of death vibe. He sat next to Reyna and decided to take a risk. “So you think we were drawn here because you have some sort of connection to the ghosts. Like what happened in San Juan?”

For a count of ten she said nothing, turning the plastic bouquet in her hand. “I don’t want to talk about San Juan.”

“You should,” Nico said. “Trust me. I know a lot about ghosts. The thing about ghosts—most of them have lost their voices. In Asphodel, millions of them wander around aimlessly, trying to remember who they were. You know why they end up like that? Because in life they never took a stand one way or another. They never spoke out, so they were never heard. Your voice is your identity. If you don’t use it,” he said with a shrug, “you’re halfway to Asphodel already.”

Reyna scowled. “Is that your idea of a pep talk?”

Coach Hedge cleared his throat. “This is getting too psychological for me. I’m going to write some letters.” He took his notepad and headed into the woods.

The last day or so, he’d been writing a lot—apparently not just to Mellie. The coach wouldn’t share details, but he hinted that he was calling in some favors to help with the quest.

Nico opened his shopping bag. He pulled out a box of Little Debbie Oatmeal Creme Pies and offered one to Reyna.

She wrinkled her nose. “Those look like they went stale in dinosaur times.”

“Stale food is better than no food,” Bianca said seriously.

Nico glanced at her quizzically.

“Just because we weren’t poor doesn’t mean I didn’t see what was going on around us,” she said.

Nico’s mouth twisted. His memories were still a jumbled mess. Bianca’s had all been returned to her in death and she carried them with her now. According to history books and Bianca’s memories, around the time they had moved from Italy to America, the United States was in the tailend of it’s Great Depression. Hades undoubtedly had provided Maria di Angelo with whatever money she needed, but that hadn’t done much for the population around them.

“Well, you’re right about that,” Nico mumbled. “I’ve got a big appetite these days. Any kind of food tastes good… except pomegranate seeds. If I can live the rest of my life without seeing or eating those again, I’ll die happy.”

“Hopefully that’s when you’re a hundred years old,” Bianca said.

Nico raised an eyebrow. “Eighteen short years from now?”

“Shut up.”

Reyna picked out a creme pie and took a bite. “The ghosts in San Juan… they were my ancestors.”

Nico waited. The breeze ruffled the camouflage netting over the Athena Parthenos.

“The Ramírez-Arellano family goes back a long way,” Reyna continued. “I don’t know the whole story. My ancestors lived in Spain when it was a Roman province. My great-great-something-something-grandfather was a conquistador. He came over to Puerto Rico with Ponce de León.”

“One of the ghosts on the balcony was wearing conquistador armor,” Nico recalled.

“That’s him.”

“So… is your whole family descended from Bellona?” Bianca asked. “I thought you and Hylla were her daughters, not legacies.”

A look of despair passed over Reyna’s face, though she managed to hide it quickly.

“We are her daughters,” Reyna said. “We’re the first actual children of Bellona in the Ramírez-Arellano family. And Bellona has always favored our clan. Millennia ago, she decreed that we would play pivotal roles in many battles.”

“Like you’re doing now,” Nico said.

Reyna brushed crumbs from her chin. “Perhaps. Some of my ancestors have been heroes. Some have been villains. You saw the ghost with the gunshot wounds in the chest?”

Nico nodded. “A pirate?”

“The most famous in Puerto Rican history. He was known as the Pirate Cofresí, but his family name was Ramírez de Arellano. Our house, the family villa, was built with money from treasure that he buried.”

Bianca grinned at Nico. “Pirates.”

Nico gave her a dry look. “Haha.” He turned back to Reyna. “The other ghosts?”

Reyna took another bite of creme pie. “The guy in the U.S. Navy uniform… he’s my great-great-uncle from World War Two, the first Latino submarine commander. You get the idea. A lot of warriors. Bellona was our patron goddess for generations.”

“But she never had demigod children in your family—until you.”

“The goddess… she fell in love with my father, Julian. He was a soldier in Iraq. He was—” Reyna’s voice broke. She tossed aside the plastic bouquet of flowers. “I can’t do this. I can’t talk about him.”

A cloud passed overhead, blanketing the woods in shadows.

Nico set down his oatmeal creme pie… and noticed that his fingertips were turning to smoke. The sunlight returned. His hands became solid again, but Nico’s nerves jangled. He felt as if he’d been pulled back from the edge of a high balcony. He took a calming breath to steel himself.

“My dad gave me a present once,” Nico said. “It was a zombie.”

Reyna stared at him. “What?”

“You have a zombie?” Bianca asked, sounding insulted. “When did he give you a zombie?”

“His name is Jules-Albert,” Nico said. “He’s French. And it was, like, after he asked me to covertly join the Romans. I don’t know, I think it was an apology and a gift at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, you have a French zombie?” Reyna clarified.

Nico shrugged. “Hades isn’t the greatest dad, but occasionally he has these want to know my son moments. I guess he thought the zombie was a peace offering. Like sorry I’m making you do this really stressful thing, but thank you and here’s a reward. He said Jules-Albert could be my chauffeur.”

The corner of Reyna’s mouth twitched. “A French zombie chauffeur.”

“Well, mortal parents usually drive their kids around a lot,” Nico said. “But it’s not like Hades can do that. So… zombie.”

“To take you to the mall,” Reyna said. “Or the drive-through at In-N-Out Burger.”

“Mostly he cleans my cabin at Camp Half-Blood,” Nico admitted. “But yeah. He takes me on my midnight McDonalds runs.”

Bianca rolled her eyes. “You are unnaturally addicted to that grease pit.”

“And you’ve been talking to Will too much.”

Reyna smiled. “McDonalds?”

Nico threw his arms up. “I like the food, okay?”

“Sorry,” Reyna laughed.

“It’s okay. Point is… I don’t like talking about my dad either. We haven’t always had a good relationship. But sometimes,” he said, looking her in the eyes, “you have to.”

Reyna’s expression turned serious. “I never knew my father in his better days. Hylla said he used to be gentler when she was very small, before I was born. He was a good soldier—fearless, disciplined, cool under fire. He was handsome. He could be very charming. Bellona blessed him, as she had with so many of my ancestors, but that wasn’t enough for my dad. He wanted her for his wife.”

Over in the woods, Coach Hedge muttered to himself as he wrote. Three paper airplanes were already spiralling upward in the breeze, heading to gods knew where.

“My father dedicated himself completely to Bellona,” Reyna continued. “It’s one thing to respect the power of war. It’s another thing to fall in love with it. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to win Bellona’s heart. My sister was born just before he went to Iraq for his last tour of duty. He was honorably discharged, came home a hero. If… if he’d been able to adjust to civilian life, everything might have been all right.”

“But he couldn’t,” Bianca guessed.

Reyna shook her head. “Shortly after he got back, he had one last encounter with the goddess… that’s the, um, reason I was born. Bellona gave him a glimpse of the future. She explained why our family was so important to her. She said the legacy of Rome would never fail as long as one of our bloodline remained, fighting to defend our homeland. Those words… I think she meant them to be reassuring, but my father became fixated on them.”

“War is hard to get over,” Nico said. I know first hand.

Despite the heat, Reyna drew her cloak around her. “Part of the problem was post-traumatic stress. He couldn’t stop thinking about the war. And then there was the constant pain—a roadside bomb had left shrapnel in his shoulder and chest. But it was more than that. Over the years, as I was growing up, he… he changed.”

Alarm bells rang. Changed… Nico barely kept himself from reacting.

How the Hades did he forget Bryce Lawrence of all things?

He shot Bianca a panicked look, but she didn’t see it. She was too focused on Reyna. Nico had no idea what to do. He couldn’t stop Reyna. If he did, she’d never open up like this again. But he really didn’t want to do what he did to Bryce. At least not in front of Bianca.

“He became paranoid,” Reyna said. “He thought Bellona’s words were a warning that our bloodline would be exterminated and the legacy of Rome would fail. He saw enemies everywhere. He collected weapons. He turned our house into a fortress. At night, he would lock Hylla and me in our rooms. If we sneaked out, he would yell at us and throw furniture and… well, he terrified us. At times, he even thought we were the enemies. He became convinced we were spying on him, trying to undermine him. Then the ghosts started appearing. I guess they’d always been there, but they picked up on my father’s agitation and began to manifest. They whispered to him, feeding his suspicions. Finally one day… I can’t tell you for sure when, I realized he had ceased to be my father. He had become one of the ghosts.”

“A mania,” Bianca said.

“Whatever he was,” Reyna said, “he became impossible to live with. Hylla and I escaped the house as often as we could, but eventually we’d come… back… and face his rage. We didn’t know what else to do. He was our only family. The last time we returned, he—he was so angry he was literally glowing. He couldn’t physically touch things any more, but he could move them… like a poltergeist, I guess. He tore up the floor tiles. He ripped open the sofa. Finally he tossed a chair and it hit Hylla. She collapsed. She was only knocked unconscious, but I thought she was dead. She’d spent so many years protecting me… I just lost it. I grabbed the nearest weapon I could find—a family heirloom, the Pirate Confresí’s sabre. I—I didn’t know it was Imperial gold. I ran at my father’s spirit and…”

“You vaporized him,” Nico said with growing dread. Not because of what Reyna had done, but because of who had overheard what she had done.

Reyna’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I killed my own father.”

“No. Reyna, no. That wasn’t him. That was a ghost. Even worse: a mania. You were protecting your sister.”

She twisted the silver ring on her finger. “You don’t understand. Patricide is the worst crime a Roman can commit. It’s unforgivable.”

“You didn’t kill your father. The man was already dead,” Nico insisted. “You dispelled a ghost.”

“It doesn’t matter!” Reyna sobbed. “If word of this got out at Camp Jupiter—”

“You’d be executed,” said a new voice.

At the edge of the woods stood a Roman legionnaire in full armor, holding a pilum. A mop of brown hair hung in his eyes. His nose had obviously been broken at least once, which made his smile look even more sinister. “Thank you for your confession, former praetor. You’ve made my job much easier.”

Chapter Text

IF IT WASN’T FOR BIANCA, Nico would have run Bryce through then and there. Nico stood up, hand on the hilt of his sword. Bianca pulled him back.

“Don’t,” she said lowly.

Coach Hedge chose that moment to burst into the clearing, waving a paper airplane and yelling, “Good news, everyone!”

He froze when he saw the Roman. “Oh… never mind.”

He quickly crumpled the airplane and ate it.

Reyna and Bianca got to their feet. Bianca maintained her steely grip on Nico’s arm. Aurum and Argentum scampered to Reyna’s side and growled at the intruder.

How this guy had got so close without the dogs noticing, Nico didn’t understand.

“Bryce Lawrence,” Reyna said. “Octavian’s newest attack dog.”

The Roman inclined his head. His eyes were green, but not sea green like Percy’s… more like pond-scum green.

“The augur has many attack dogs,” Bryce said. “I’m just the lucky one who found you. Your Graecus friends here—” he pointed his chin at Nico and Bianca “—were easy to track. They stink of the Underworld.”

Nico unsheathed his sword. “You know the Underworld? Would you like me to arrange a visit?”

“Nico!” Bianca hissed. She yanked him back.

Bryce laughed. His front teeth were two different shades of yellow. “Do you think you can frighten me? I’m a descendant of Orcus, the god of broken vows and eternal punishment. I’ve heard the screams in the Fields of Punishment first hand. They’re music to my ears. Soon, I’ll be adding one more damned soul to the chorus.”

He grinned at Reyna. “Patricide, eh? Octavian will love this news. You are under arrest for multiple violations of Roman law.”

“You being here is against Roman law,” Reyna said. “Romans don’t quest alone. A mission has to be led by someone of centurion rank or higher. You’re in probatio, and even giving you that rank was a mistake. You have no right to arrest me.”

Bryce shrugged. “In times of war, some rules have to be flexible. But don’t worry. Once I bring you in for trial, I’ll be rewarded with full membership in the legion. I imagine I’ll be promoted to centurion, too. Doubtless there will be vacancies after the coming battle. Some officers won’t survive, especially if their loyalties aren’t in the right place.”

Coach Hedge hefted his bat. “I don’t know the proper Roman etiquette, but can I bash this kid now?”

“A faun,” Bryce said. “Interesting. I heard the Greeks actually trusted their goat men.”

Hedge bleated. “I’m a satyr. And you can trust I’m going to put this bat upside your head, you little punk.”

The coach advanced, but, as soon as his foot touched the cairn, the stones rumbled like they were coming to the boil. Out of the grave site, skeletal warriors erupted—spartoi in the tattered remains of British redcoat uniforms. Hedge scrambled away, but the first two skeletons grabbed his arms and lifted him off the ground.

The coach dropped his bat and kicked his hooves.

“Lemme go, ya stupid boneheads!” he bellowed.

Bianca let out a gasp as the grave spewed forth more dead British soldiers—five, ten, twenty, multiplying so quickly that Reyna and her metal dogs were surrounded before anyone could raise a weapon.

“I forgot to mention,” Bryce said, “I’m actually not alone on this quest. As you can see, I have backup. These redcoats promised quarter to the colonials. Then they butchered them. Personally, I like a good massacre, but, because they broke their oaths, their spirits were damned and they are perpetually under the power of Orcus. Which means they are also under my control.” He pointed to Reyna. “Seize the girl.”

The spartoi surged forward. Aurum and Argentum took down the first few, but they were quickly wrestled to the ground, skeletal hands clamped over their muzzles. The redcoats grabbed Reyna’s arms. For undead creatures, they were surprisingly quick.

Nico slashed at the spartoi, but his sword passed harmlessly through them. He exerted his will, ordering the skeletons to dissolve. They acted as if he didn’t exist.

Next to him, Bianca tried stabbing a few with her Stygian iron knife, but she wasn’t having any more luck than Nico.

“What’s wrong, children of Hades?” Bryce’s voice was filled with fake sympathy. “Losing your grip?”

Nico tried to push his way through the skeletons. There were too many. Bryce, Reyna and Coach Hedge might as well have been behind a metal wall.

“What do we do?” Bianca asked Nico worriedly.

Nico gritted his teeth. I know…

This was exactly why he didn’t want Bianca to come along.

“Nico, Bianca, get out of here!” Reyna said. “Get to the statue and leave.”

“Yes, off you go!” Bryce agreed. “Of course, you realize that your next shadow-jump will be your last. You know you don’t have the strength to survive another. But, by all means, take the Athena Parthenos.”

Nico glanced down. He still held his Stygian sword, but his hands were dark and transparent like smoky glass. Even in the direct sunlight, he was dissolving.

Bianca followed his gaze. Her eyes widened. “Oh my gods.”

“I am curious what will happen,” Bryce said. “If you take the statue, you’ll disappear with it forever, right into oblivion. If you don’t take it… well, I have orders to bring Reyna in alive to stand trial for treason. I have no orders to bring you in alive, or the faun.”

“Satyr!” the coach yelled. He kicked a skeleton in its bony crotch, which seemed to hurt Hedge more than the redcoat. “Ow! Stupid British dead guys!”

Bryce lowered his javelin and poked the coach in the belly. “I wonder what this one’s pain tolerance would be. I’ve experimented on all kinds of animals. I even killed my own centurion once. I’ve never tried a faun… excuse me, a satyr. You reincarnate, don’t you? How much pain can you take before you turn into a patch of daisies?”

Nico really hadn’t needed that to turn his anger cold and dark as his blade. He still held all the ire for Bryce Lawrence he had from the original timeline. He hated people like Bryce Lawrence, who inflicted pain just for fun.

“Leave him alone,” Nico warned.

Bryce raised an eyebrow. “Or what? By all means, try something Underworldy, Nico. I’d love to see it. I have a feeling anything major will make you fade out permanently. Go ahead. Or your sister. Can she even do anything with her powers?”

“Yes, I can!” Bianca snapped.

Reyna struggled. “Bryce, forget about them. If you want me as your prisoner, fine. I’ll go willingly and face Octavian’s stupid trial.”

“A fine offer.” Bryce turned his javelin, letting the tip hover a few inches from Reyna’s eyes. “You really don’t know what Octavian has planned, do you? He’s been busy pulling in favors, spending the legion’s money.”

Reyna clenched her fists. “Octavian has no right—”

“He has the right of power,” Bryce said. “You forfeited your authority when you ran off to the ancient lands. On August first, your Greek friends at Camp Half-Blood will find out what a powerful enemy Octavian is. I’ve seen the designs for his machines… Even I’m impressed.”

And that. A reminder of the evil scheme Octavian had concocted to destroy the Greeks further fueled Nico’s anger. His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword and his free hand curled into a fist.

Then he locked eyes with Reyna. Her strength surged through him—a wave of courage and resilience that made him feel substantial again, anchored to the mortal world. Even surrounded by the dead and facing execution, Reyna Ramírez-Arellano had a huge reservoir of bravery to share.

“Nico,” she said, “do what you need to do. I’ve got your back.”

Bryce chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, Reyna. You’ve got his back? It’s going to be so fun dragging you before a tribunal, forcing you to confess that you killed your father. I hope they’ll execute you in the ancient way—sewn into a sack with a rabid dog, then thrown into a river. I’ve always wanted to see that. I can’t wait until your little secret comes out.”

Oh yeah. Nico forgot Bryce said that. Regardless of how he felt about his own “little secret” now, Nico still didn’t appreciate others handing out people’s secrets.

Bryce Lawrence was all the things Nico hated rolled into one package. And he was threatening Nico’s sister in all but blood.

Bryce flicked the point of his pilum across Reyna’s face, leaving a line of blood.

And Nico’s rage exploded.

Chapter Text

NICO HAD A LOT OF SECRETS. Time travel being the biggest one of all. Bryce Lawrence wanted secrets? He could have all of Nico’s.

The air around Nico dropped to freezing. The ground blackened. In one horrible cry, Nico unleashed a flood of pain and anger on everyone in the clearing. Reyna, Bianca, and the coach experienced his first journey through Tartarus, his capture by the giants, his days wasting away inside that bronze jar. They felt the anguish from his encounter with Cupid in the ruins of Salona. And the memories kept coming.

The wave of pain and the pull in his gut when Jason died. Whispering voices in his head calling for help, calling for him to return to the pit, filling his head until he couldn’t figure out what was real and what was fake.

And then he was back on that snowy hill in Maine and Bianca was alive. Elation filled him until dread settled in because the prophecy hadn’t changed and Bianca was still going to die. Anger for Daedalus when they couldn’t prevent the Battle of the Labyrinth and campers—his friends—died. Guilt he felt when the Battle of Manhattan started and he wasn’t there because he had to convince Hades to join the fight.

They felt his stomach drop when he volunteered to go back to Tartarus and Annabeth had let him go. They felt the utter terror Nico felt standing at the edge of the pit and the hopelessness that crushed him piece by piece until he was back in that bronze jar. Even then, the hopelessness hadn’t gone away. What if he didn’t have enough seeds this time? What if he wasn’t in the same place and Percy led the others to the wrong spot? They felt his fear that this time he wouldn’t make it back to Camp Half-Blood, and gods, he just wanted to see Will so bad—just one last time.

The spartoi disintegrated into ashes. The rocks of the cairn turned white with frost. Bryce Lawrence stumbled, clutching his head, both nostrils bleeding.

Nico marched towards him. He grabbed Bryce’s probatio tablet and ripped it off his neck.

“You aren’t worthy of this,” Nico growled.

The earth split under Bryce’s feet. He sank up to his waist. “Stop!” Bryce clawed at the ground and the plastic bouquets, but his body kept sinking.

“You took an oath to the legion.” Nico’s breath steamed in the cold. “You broke its rules. You inflicted pain. You killed your own centurion.”

“I—I didn’t! I—”

“You should’ve died for your crimes,” Nico continued. “That was the punishment. Instead you got exile. You should have stayed away. Your father Orcus may not approve of broken oaths. But my father Hades really doesn’t approve of those who escape punishment.”

“Please!”

Please didn’t excuse what Bryce had done. Please didn’t bring back that dead centurion. Please didn’t heal that cut on Reyna’s cheek. Please didn’t stop Octavian’s onagers.

“You’re already dead,” Nico said. “You’re a ghost with no tongue, no memory. You won’t be sharing any secrets.”

“No!” Bryce’s body turned dark and smoky. He slipped into the earth, up to his chest. “No, I am Bryce Lawrence! I’m alive!”

“Who are you?” Nico asked.

The next sound from Bryce’s mouth was a chattering whisper. His face became indistinct. He could have been anyone—just another nameless spirit among millions.

“Begone,” Nico said.

The spirit dissipated. The earth closed.

Nico looked back and saw that his friends were safe. Reyna and the coach stared at him in horror. Bianca’s face was pale, her eyes wide and fearful. Reyna’s face was bleeding. Aurum and Argentum turned in circles, as if their mechanical brains had short-circuited.

Nico collapsed.

His dreams made no sense, which was almost a relief.

A flock of ravens circled in a dark sky. Then the ravens turned into horses galloping through the surf.

He saw his sister Bianca sitting in the dining pavilion at Camp Half-Blood with the Hunters of Artemis. She smiled and laughed with her new group of friends. Then Bianca changed into Hazel, who kissed Nico on the cheek and said, “I want you to be an exception.”

He saw the harpy Ella with her shaggy red hair and red feathers, her eyes like dark coffee. She perched on the couch of the Big House’s living room. Propped next to her was the magical stuffed leopard head Seymour. Ella rocked back and forth, feeding the leopard Cheetos.

“Cheese is not good for harpies,” she muttered. Then she scrunched up her face and chanted one of her memorized lines of prophecy: “The fall of the sun, the final verse.” She fed Seymour more Cheetos. “Cheese is good for leopard heads.”

Seymour roared in agreement.

Ella changed into a dark-haired, extremely pregnant cloud nymph, writhing in pain on a camp bunk bed. Clarisse La Rue sat next to her, wiping the nymph’s head with a cool cloth. “Mellie, you’ll be fine,” Clarisse said, though she sounded worried.

“No, nothing is fine!” Mellie wailed. “Gaea is rising!”

The scene shifted. Nico stood with Hades in the Berkeley Hills on the day Hades first led him to Camp Jupiter. “Go to them,” said the god. “Introduce yourself as a child of Pluto. It is important you make this connection.”

“Why?” Nico asked.

Hades dissolved. Nico found himself in a dark tunnel looking at Percy and Annabeth who were holding hands and giving each other fearful looks. They stood outside the mouth of a cave. Nico thought he could hear running water echoing from the cave.

Will’s face streaked with black paint swam in his mind.

Nico gasped.

His eyes flew open.

He was flat on his back, staring at the sunlight in the tree branches.

“Thank the gods.” Reyna leaned over him, her hand cool on his forehead. The bleeding cut on her face was completely gone.

“Nico!” Bianca cried. A relieved smile was on her face. “Oh my gods, don’t ever do that to me again! I didn’t think you were ever going to wake up and—” she cut off.

Next to her, Coach Hedge scowled. Sadly, Nico had a great view right up his nostrils.

“Good,” said the coach. “Just a few more applications.”

He held up a large square bandage coated with sticky brown gunk and plastered it over Nico’s nose.

“What is…? Ugh.”

The gunk smelled like potting soil, cedar chips, grape juice and just a hint of fertilizer. Nico didn’t have the strength to remove it.

His senses started to work again. He realized he was lying on a sleeping bag outside the tent. He was wearing nothing but his boxer shorts and a thousand gross, brown-plastered bandages all over his body. His arms, legs and chest were itchy from the drying mud.

“Are—are you trying to plant me?” he murmured.

“It’s sports medicine with a little nature magic,” said the coach. “Kind of a hobby of mine.”

Nico tried to focus on Reyna’s face. “You approved this?”

She looked like she was about to pass out from exhaustion, but she managed a smile. “Coach Hedge brought you back from the brink. The unicorn draught, ambrosia, nectar… we couldn’t use any of it. You were fading so badly.”

“Don’t worry about that now, kid.” Hedge put a drinking straw next to Nico’s mouth. “Have some Gatorade.”

Nico took the proffered Gatorade. He drank it all in a matter of seconds. The Gatorade reminded him of Will. Nico swallowed the last of the drink. It didn’t really taste so good anymore.

“What happened?” Nico asked quietly. “I—I didn’t…?”

Bianca’s smile faded. “He’s not here anymore.”

“There’s good news and bad news,” Reyna said. “But first eat something. You’ll need your strength back before you hear the bad news.”

Chapter Text

“WHY IS IT ALWAYS THREE DAYS?” NICO WONDERED.

Reyna sent him an odd look. “Does this have anything to do with… what we saw?”

Coach Hedge snorted. “You mean the kid time traveling? Don’t sugar-coat it, cupcake.”

“Yes,” Reyna said slowly. “Time travel.”

Nico glanced up at her. “I would have told you.”

“Not before we finished the mission though,” Reyna said sharply. “I need to be able to trust my companions, Nico. I trusted you—do trust you—to deliver us and the statue. But you didn’t trust me with at least knowing you were from the future? I—I felt what you feel for me. And I better understand why you called me sister. Yet you didn’t tell me.”

“If you felt what I felt and saw what I saw,” Nico said quietly, “then you would know that our bond doesn’t really cement until after the war. Trust me, it’s something I’ve struggled with this whole time. You… no one is the same as who they were before. We would have liked to have gotten through the war without telling anyone, but that obviously wasn’t possible. We didn’t even tell the Seven until we had to.”

Reyna sighed. “I do understand, but… Nico, we could have planned better. I could have helped you plan for what was going to happen. The Hunters and the Amazons…”

“I tried to warn them better,” Nico said. “And Bianca… well, let’s just say Phoebe, Naomi, and Celyn would be dead.”

Reyna exhaled. “I suppose I am grateful for that.”

“The Romans are going to attack Camp Half-Blood at sunrise on August 1,” Nico said, grateful he could speak openly about what he knew. “If today is July 30, that’s the day after tomorrow. I also had a dream about some things.”

He recounted his weird dreams—the mutterings of Ella the harpy, the glimpse of Mellie the cloud nymph (which worried the coach).

“Mellie’s going to be fine,” Nico assured the coach. “I won’t spoil the surprise, but she and the baby will be just fine.” He grinned. “I actually know for a fact the doctor that’s going to deliver the baby is the best medic at Camp.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow. “Will? Will Solace the fourteen year old kid is going to deliver a baby?”

“First of all, he’s almost fifteen,” Nico said. “Second, don’t ruin this for me. Third, we need to get going.”

“No.” Reyna pressed her hand against his forearm, making the bandages crinkle. “Any more shadow-travel would kill you.”

“Bryce Lawrence was right about that,” Coach Hedge agreed.

At the mention of Bryce, Reyna’s metallic dogs pricked up their ears and snarled.

Reyna stared at the cairn of rocks, her eyes full of torment, as if more unwelcome spirits might emerge from the grave.

Nico took a breath, getting a nose full of Hedge’s fragrant home remedy. “Reyna, I… I didn’t mean to do that to Bryce.”

“You did it the first time,” Reyna said. “I felt your anger of that moment. You didn’t want to do that in front of Bianca or I. But you didn’t care if you did that to him or not.”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Nico said.

“I understand why you did it,” Reyna admitted. “Bryce… he had to go.” She managed a small smile. “I’ve had three days to think about this.” She placed a hand on Nico’s. “I recognize that you probably already knew about what happened with my father, but I respect that you allowed me to tell you myself. It’s something I’ve never shared with anyone. And what I said about trust earlier… I do trust you, Nico. We’re friends.” She hesitated. “Brother and sister.”

“Brother and sisters,” Bianca corrected.

Reyna smiled a real genuine smile. “Brother and sisters.”

“And satyr,” Coach Hedge barked. “Don’t forget about me, cupcakes.”

“Brother, sisters, and satyr,” Nico said.

“As your sister,” Reyna began with a smirk, “what’s this about Will Solace?”

Nico glared. “I’m not doing this.”

“Do I need to have a talk with him after this is all over?”

“No,” Nico said pointedly. “And on that note, don’t say a word until I tell Hazel. I’m waiting until we actually have time to sit down and have a proper conversation.”

“We’re demigods,” Reyna pointed out. “You might be waiting a long time. But I won’t say a word, Nico.” She cleared her throat. “While you were asleep, there were no signs of other Romans, nor did we get a sign of Orion.”

“He’s not dead,” Nico told her. “But Hylla’s alive. Bianca’s intervention… it wasn’t enough to save everyone, but most Hunters and Amazons got out alive. That much I can feel.”

“Now for the best news,” Coach Hedge grinned.

Reyna frowned. “It’s hard to believe, but Coach Hedge thinks he’s found another way to transport the statue. It’s all he’s talked about for the past three days. But so far we’ve seen no sign of—”

“Hey, it’ll happen!” Coach grinned at Nico. “Right? You remember that paper airplane I got right before Creepmeister Lawrence showed up? It was a message from one of Mellie’s contacts in the palace of Aeolus. This harpy, Nuggets—she and Mellie go way back. Anyway… she knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a horse who knows a goat who knows another horse—”

“Coach,” Reyna chided, “you’ll make him sorry he came out of his coma. He probably already knows this anyway.”

“Go on, Coach,” Nico said. He didn’t have the heart to steal the satyrs thunder.

Coach Hedge shot Nico a brilliant smile. “Long story short, I pulled in a lot of favors. I got word to the right wind-type spirits that we needed help. The letter I ate? Confirmation that the cavalry is coming. They said it would take a while to organize, but he should be here soon—any minute, in fact.”

“I believe him,” Nico said, looking at Reyna.

Reyna rolled her eyes. Then she stood abruptly. She stared towards the north, her face slack with awe. “No way…”

Nico followed her gaze. A flock of birds was approaching—large birds. They got closer, and Nico realized they were horses with wings—at least half a dozen in V formation, without riders. Flying on point was a massive stallion with a golden coat and multicolored plumage like an eagle’s, his wingspan twice as wide as the other horses’.

“Pegasus,” Nico said, smile spreading across his face. “You got the Pegasus, immortal lord of horses to come give us an escort.”

Coach Hedge grinned. “Yes, I did.”

Chapter Text

“GOOD MORNING,” A VOICE ANNOUNCED, waking Percy from his sleep.

Percy blinked blearily at the figure for a second. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the figure and when he did, he jumped up, grabbing for Riptide as he did.

“Whoa!” Annabeth said, grabbing his arm.

“Empousa!” Percy yelled.

The figure rolled her eyes. “We established this yesterday, didn’t we?”

Percy tilted his head. “Oh. Elaine.”

“ Oh, ” Elaine mocked. “ Elaine. Yes, that’s my name. Now if you’re interested, I’m supposed to be taking you to get some real food and then I’ll be accompanying you to the Labyrinth entrance.”

“Food?” Percy repeated. His stomach rumbled.

Annabeth exhaled. “Food sounds really good. Leto’s sandwiches are the only thing we’ve eaten since Damasen’s hut.”

“Damasen?” Elaine said. “You were at his hut?”

“Why do you think we sent him through the Doors?” Annabeth asked. “He’s a friend. Do you know him?”

Elaine shook her head. “I know of him. I’m just… surprised. I can’t figure you two out at all. Most demigods wouldn’t help a Titan and a giant escape here if it meant they had to stay behind too. Most demigods despise monsters. You two… you let them go even though they are monsters by your definition. You befriended them. Yet, you seem leary about this camp full of peaceful monsters.”

“Never met a monster that didn’t want to kill us,” Annabeth said. “Can you blame us for being cautious. And I didn’t trust Bob or Damasen right away. It took time.”

“And that,” Elaine said, “is why you are so confounding. I have not been to the mortal world since shortly after the Titan’s failed uprising. Unless things have changed for you, do you or do you not have a Cyclops for a brother?” she directed at Percy. “And you are both friends with him, yes? But he is by definition a monster. Has he tried to kill you then? Bob and Damasen too. Have they tried to kill you before?”

Annabeth flinched back as if she was slapped.

Elaine shrugged. “You see what I mean? You have double standards. You pick and choose when monsters are good and when they are bad.”

Percy didn’t really like what Elaine was saying about him and Annabeth. But wasn’t she right about them? He had a Cyclops for a brother and a hellhound for a pet. He was friends with a Titan and a giant. Friends he was willing to risk his life in Tartarus to save.

Yet he still held onto the belief that monsters were bad and it was his job as a demigod to stop them from hurting people. Annabeth was almost right in saying they had never met a monster who hadn’t tried to kill them. Tyson never tried to kill them. Mrs. O’Leary never tried to either. And wasn’t it possible that the only reason they came across monsters who tried to kill them were because those were the monsters that sought out demigods to kill them? The monsters that didn’t want to kill demigods remained unseen because they didn’t go looking for demigods to kill.

But not all these monsters were completely innocent. Some of them were just tired of getting killed over the millenia. They’d done their fair share of killing demigods. Elaine was part of this category as far as Percy knew.

“Are you hungry or not?” Elaine asked, cutting through Percy’s thoughts. “Breakfast is like a two hour window, so if you want to get the good stuff—”

“We’re coming,” Percy said quickly.

The similarities between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Tartarus (as Percy had privately been calling it in his head) were quite astounding. The differences too. It looked so much like the demigod camp, but at the same time, not at all like it.

Rather than cabins, there were either small huts or simple houses. A few apartment looking buildings were erected off to one side and it looked like there was continuing construction to build more. But the buildings and the set up all gave off a campy feel.

Much like Camp Half-Blood, Camp Tartarus had a dining pavilion that was open at the top. It wasn’t likely to rain in Tartarus, Percy assumed, just like how the power of the gods kept the rain out of Camp Half-Blood.

No one gave Percy or Annabeth a second look. Cyclopes, empousai, telkhines, dracaena, and other monsters sat at tables, casually chatting with friends—or demigod killing associates, whichever these monsters were—and eating gourmet breakfast meals.

Percy blinked at a plate of scrambled eggs. “Those are from chickens, right?”

“What do you think they’re from?” Elaine asked, rolling her eyes. “Of course they’re from chickens. They lay the eggs, then we get the eggs, crack the eggs, scramble them on a pan over heat. How else do you get eggs?”

“Uh… monster chickens?”

Elaine snorted. “Yeah, okay.” She gestured to the next table. “Here.”

Annabeth sat down after giving the bench seat a quick once over. Percy followed her lead and sat next to her.

“I figured we could hash out a plan over breakfast,” Elaine said, scooping some eggs onto her plate. “Then we can pack you some food since you’ll probably spend what seems like at least three days in the Labyrinth.”

“Three days?” Annabeth repeated. “How do you know that?”

Elaine speared a stack of pancakes with a fork. “I don’t. But you say you have Ariadne’s string and a map of the maze. Those will speed up your travel and give you a decently accurate path out of the maze. Most people would be wandering for… weeks, months, years? Three days is a guess. I mean, worst case scenario, you just hop out at the nearest exit for a quick meal, right?”

“No,” Annabeth shook her head. “No, worst case is we end up leaving the maze years after the war with Gaea. I don’t think you understand. We need to get out of here by August 1. We have to be in Athens when our friends face the giants. I get that maybe you don’t understand what it means to have people who depend on you and you don’t know what it’s like to care about people, but we do and we promised people that we’d find a way out before the fight.”

Elaine’s expression turned icy. “Don’t talk like you know me.” She stood abruptly, her plate of food half untouched. “I will go prepare your bags. When I return, we set out for the Labyrinth entrance.” She stalked off.

Percy exchanged a look with Annabeth. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

“Bait her like that.”

Annabeth sighed. “I know, I’m just… I’m frustrated, Percy. I had a dream last night. Bianca di Angelo is with them.”

“What?” Percy asked. “What do you mean Bianca’s with them? With who?”

“Nico, Reyna, and Hedge,” Annabeth answered. She poked at her food and pushed it around her plate. “I saw them. They were fighting Lycaon. They got away before my dream changed, but… I’m worried about him. He made this journey once and it almost killed him. I know Bianca can help, but… she can’t shadow travel yet. Not by herself at least. And Nico knows what’s going to happen on the journey. Do you honestly believe for one second that he’d let Bianca do much of the work? He just got her back, he’s not going to risk losing her again.”

“Hey, they’re alive,” Percy told her. “And Nico’s going to be fine. I mean, Will might strangle him, but if all Nico has to worry about is his… whatever they are—killing him? I’d say he’s doing pretty good.” He frowned. “You said your dream changed. What else?”

“Apparently Allegra Nakamura brought Bianca to Epirus,” Annabeth said. “I saw her and Ethan talking about it. Oh, and get this, they’re thinking about asking some of Kronos’s demigods for help against the Romans.”

Percy’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding? Is that a good idea? You remember how strained things were right after the war when we got some of them arriving. Now they want to bring demigods who we kinda tried to kill or seriously maim a year ago to help fight the Romans?”

“They mentioned someone in particular,” Annabeth grimaced. “Alabaster Torrington.”

“Son of Hecate?” Percy asked. “Will’s Alabaster? The one that wants to give me a sword through the Achilles weak spot?

“That’s the one,” Annabeth confirmed. “Please don’t call him Will’s Alabaster though. That’s just… wrong.” She sighed. “I don’t know, Percy. I think… I think this could be good. They can unite all the Greek demigods against a common, well, not enemy, but yeah, enemy. This might be the final push we need to resolve any differences between us. I think it could be good for Kronos’s demigods and I think it could be good for Camp Half-Blood. Maybe after all is said and done, Alabaster will only want to take a swing at your invulnerable spots.”

“I’d kind of rather he didn’t.”

Annabeth laughed.

Chapter Text

“HERE YOU GO, DEARS,” LETO SAID, handing Percy and Annabeth two backpacks that looked suspiciously like they were made out of drakon hide.

Elaine had a similar backpack, though Percy suspected hers wasn’t filled to the brim with sandwiches or water bottles like his and Annabeth’s were. The empousa was busy sharpening a Celestial bronze knife.

“I thought you said no killing here,” Percy said.

Elaine glanced at him. “Outsiders can wander in, you know. I mean, you two did. Anyway, we don’t know what to expect from the Labyrinth. I’m not heading there unprepared.”

“Will I be seeing you back here later, Elaine?” Leto asked evenly.

Elaine didn’t answer.

“Elaine?” Leto prompted a little more sternly.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Hmph,” Leto huffed. “Well, I’ll be here. You’ll always be welcomed here, Elaine. You too,” she said, looking at Percy and Annabeth. “If you’re ever near Tartarus again, you’re welcome to come say hello.”

“Assuming he doesn’t kill us the second we step foot in the pit,” Percy said.

Leto chuckled. “Yes, perhaps you should use the Labyrinth to do that.”

Percy nodded. He had no intention of ever coming back to Tartarus, but he wasn’t about to tell the Titaness that.

“I’d still appreciate a heads up though,” Leto said to Elaine. “You know I support whatever decision you make, but I don’t thinks she would approve of fading—”

“I get it,” Elaine snapped. She sheathed her knife. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They walked in relative silence for a few minutes. If Percy strained hard enough, he could hear monstrous roars from the non-peaceful area of Tartarus.

He glanced at Annabeth. He could see her studying Elaine carefully. Percy could practically hear the gears turning in her mind.

Finally, he couldn’t stand the tension.

“For someone who doesn’t like talking about her reasons for being at Camp Tartarus, that subject seems to come up a lot around you,” he said.

Elaine frowned at him. “Well, I’m not the one bringing it up.”

“Let me guess,” Percy said. “You had a sister? She faded away and you’re struggling to figure out if you should join her?”

Elaine’s lips pinched. “Not even close. Now shut up.”

“Empousa charm only works on guys who aren’t in love,” Percy reminded her.

For some reason, this caused Elaine to flinch. She stopped walking and turned to face Percy.

“I said, shut up,” Elaine hissed. “I just want to get you to the entrance so I can be free of you.”

“We have a friend who kept his emotions bottled up,” Percy continued. “He still does actually. It’s nice to be able to talk to people though. He just had to find someone to talk to. You could talk to us.”

Elaine balled her fists. “I don’t really think you’d understand.”

“Doesn’t matter if I understand,” Percy said. “Just matters that it makes you feel better. Maybe it will help you figure out what you want to do after this.”

Elaine sighed. She turned around and started walking again. “I was part of Kronos’s monster army during the war,” she said.

Percy looked at Annabeth. I can’t believe that worked.

Annabeth rolled her eyes and gestured for him to fall in next to Elaine.

“Obviously,” Elaine said. “Wasn’t like Camp Half-Blood or Camp Jupiter was asking monsters to join the cause and at the time…” she hesitated. “At the time I was already starting to become disenchanted with the monster life. I should have died. There was a lone half-blood and she spotted me. I might have been trying to be found so I could come back to Tartarus to die. I don’t really remember anymore. The half-blood, she was following me, so I turned down an alley. Less attention, less trouble for her.” Elaine paused. “I didn’t fight back. Like you said, empousa charm only works on guys and I was probably looking for death. She didn’t kill me. Instead she started badgering me with all these questions.”

“You became friends,” Annabeth said.

“More or less,” Elaine said. “Her name was Chloe. Daughter of Melpomene, Muse of tragedy.” She snorted bitterly. “Fitting, isn’t it? Oh, Chloe’s dead now if you didn’t already work that out.”

“What happened?” Annabeth asked gently.

“Kronos happened,” Elaine sneered. “Chloe wanted to join his army. I told her it would be better if we stayed out of this war, but no. She said she had to fight for her mother. I said the Muses were already very honored by the Olympians. Everyone knows them. Everyone likes them. But Chloe was insistent on doing this. She said… she said you have to fight for what you believe in. I’m pretty sure she copied that from somewhere.” She shook her head. “I went with her. I wasn’t about to let her get herself killed. Chloe was the first person who made me feel like I was more than what I was. And she saw the real me. Like you said, my charm only works on single guys or guys who aren’t in love. So everything was real. It was genuine.” Elaine fixed her eyes on Percy. “And then someone blew up a bridge in her face.”

Percy felt his face drain of color. “Blew up a bridge? Which… which bridge?”

“Williamsburg,” Elaine said matter-of-factly. “Yes, I am aware that you did that. But I can’t blame you. You didn’t know that she was important to anyone. You didn’t know that a piece of debris would fall on her head.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy managed.

Williamsburg Bridge… gods he hated that bridge. It had been hard enough to send the Apollo cabin there knowing what had happened the first time. When he and Will had managed to save Michael from, well, whatever happened to him, Percy had felt relieved. When Jack had saved Annabeth from having to jump in to save Percy from Ethan’s attack, Percy wanted to kiss the Fates. The fight on the bridge couldn’t have gone any better.

Now he was learning that while it had gone better for his side, it hadn’t gone very well at all for Elaine and Chloe.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“I was mad for a long time,” Elaine said. “I talked to mom—Leto—and she helped. I got over it. I didn’t know you, you didn’t know me. You certainly didn’t know Chloe. You were just fighting us because you were doing exactly what Chloe was doing. Fighting for what you believe in. I just… I wish it wasn’t at Chloe’s expense.”

“You loved her,” Annabeth said. It wasn’t a question.

Elaine stilled. “Maybe. I don’t know. I only knew her for a year. That’s hardly long enough to know.”

“You loved her,” Annabeth said firmly. “Friends don’t just join a war for their friend. You loved her enough to join a war. And there’s no set time. I didn’t figure out I was in love with Percy until I was almost fifteen and we’ve known each other since we were twelve. My cousin didn’t realize he was in love with his friend until three or four months after they met. And two of our friends got together about two months after they met.”

“Even if they didn’t use the L-word for a long time after that,” Percy grinned.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Point is, it doesn’t matter if it’s a year, a month, or a week. Maybe you didn’t realize it, but you were in love.”

“It matters if I never told her,” Elaine said quietly.

“She knows,” Percy said. “Promise you that. She knows.” He glanced at Elaine. “If you got out you could go see her in Elysium.”

“I doubt Hades would have put her there,” Elaine said shortly. “She fought for the ‘wrong’ side.”

“She fought for what she believed in,” Percy said. “If you believe in something, how can it be wrong…” he trailed off. “Good and evil isn’t defined. Yeah, killing people just to kill is evil. Helping the poor and elderly just to help is good. But there’s no cut off line. It’s a spectrum. I think she’s in Elysium. Fighting for your mom seems like a worthy cause.”

Elaine swallowed. “I hope you’re right.”

Chapter Text

A HEART-TO-HEART WITH AN EMPOUSA hadn’t been on Percy’s to-do list, but then again, neither had befriending an empousa.

Befriending…

Was that really what they were? Friends? It was a strange concept considering until now Percy’s only experience with empousai was Kelli and Tammi. Both of whom had tried to kill him, so the bar wasn’t exactly set very high.

Elaine led them over jagged rocks and rolling hills. If the landscape wasn’t so dark, red, angry, and deadly, it might have been a nice nature walk. Definitely worthy of the Tartarus exotic destinations trip.

Percy snorted.

“What?” Annabeth asked.

“Just thinking about what we told Nyx. About the Tartarus tour.”

Annabeth gave him an incredulous look. “What, you want to open one?”

“We could lead tours,” Percy mused. “Maybe employ some of the Camp Tartarus campers. Maybe these primordials wouldn’t be so angry if they got to sign some autographs every weekend. You know?”

Elaine rolled her eyes. “Go for it. I’ll enjoy watching you get brutally murdered by some primordial for suggesting this.”

“Do you think that would work for Gaea?” Percy continued. “Like Hey, Gaea, we’re cool with you waking up, but maybe ditch the taking over the world idea? How about having fans fawn over you on the weekends when our exotic destinations tours are open. Like if she wasn’t an evil goddess who wanted to take over the world, I think she’d be pretty chill.”

“Let’s not and say we did,” Annabeth said. “I don’t think Gaea would go for that.”

“Worth a shot,” Percy said.

“Labyrinth entrance this way?” Elaine said loudly and very pointedly.

Percy sighed. “Right. Coming, coming.”

They walked for what felt like miles before Elaine brought them to a stop at the bottom of a cliff wall. A small crack in the cliff wall with a glowing blue Δ stood out. The blue Δ looked out of place amidst the reddish background of Tartarus.

“This is it,” Elaine announced. She eyed them. “You’ll need to open it. Demigods are the only ones capable of doing this. You ready?”

Annabeth unslung her backpack and pulled out a red ball of string. She handed it to Percy. “You hold this. I’ll hold the map.”

Percy took the string and examined it. “How does this work exactly? Like, Rachel could see a glowing blue line that led us to where we needed to go. Will I just be able to see the line now or what?”

Elaine’s lips twitched. “The string will guide you. It’s not as accurate as a mortal, but at the very least you won’t get lost.” She gestured to the loose end. “Once you enter the maze, the string will point you in the direction you must go. But it’s not exact. The string points to the direction of your final location. You have to pick the twists and turns.”

“So it might point us to a wall, but that just means our destination is that way,” Annabeth reasoned. “So we use the map to figure out which way to go.”

Elaine nodded. “Good luck, demigods. I hope you find your friends.”

Annabeth pressed a hand to the Δ. The rocks split apart with a low rumble. Elaine turned to leave.

“Elaine!” Percy called.

The empousa looked back. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything. But Chloe was right about a lot. If you believe in something, it’s always worth fighting for. And you’re worth more than you know. If you ever get out of here, if you ever need a place to go… find us. But whatever you do, don’t fade away.”

Elaine gave him a small smile. “Thank you, Percy Jackson. I… I think I’ll stick around—what did you call it? Camp Tartarus—for a little while longer. But when I do leave, I’ll hold you to that. I look forward to seeing you again. Just make sure there’s still an earth for that to happen on.”

“We’ll do our best,” Annabeth promised. “Goodbye, Elaine.”

Elaine cast them one last look before she trotted off into the gloom.

Percy and Annabeth faced the Labyrinth entrance.

“Together?” Annabeth asked.

“Always,” Percy replied.

They laced their fingers and stepped into the maze.

Chapter Text

IT WAS DARK IN THE LABYRINTH. Percy shivered, remembering the only two times he had been in the maze. Once in the original timeline and then again in the new timeline. Now he was back a third time.

Water rushed along either side of the Labyrinth floor. None of it seemed very Underworldy to Percy, but considering the general direction the water was flowing in was back the way they’d come, Percy thought it was a pretty good assumption that these waters emptied into the Rivers of the Underworld.

The tunnel they were in was wide and open, nothing like the previous tunnels of the Labyrinth. The maze didn’t seem as malevolent as it had the other times Percy had been in there. He vaguely remembered Nico and Will saying something about that from the previous time when Camp Half-Blood was doing the three-legged death races. He also remembered the mortal face of Lester Papadopoulos grudgingly agreeing that the Labyrinth wasn’t so evil.

Of course, it was the Labyrinth that got Jason killed in the end. Maybe Caligula delivered the fatal blow, but if there wasn’t a Labyrinth, if there wasn’t a Burning Maze, then Percy’s friend wouldn’t have gone looking for Caligula. Percy scowled at the far away walls.

In his hands the string pointed directly ahead. Annabeth squinted at the faintly glowing screen that had the map of the Labyrinth.

“It’s like a demigod proof iPod touch,” Percy said. His voice echoed through the cave and he regretted saying anything.

Annabeth smiled. “Kind of,” she said quietly. Her voice still echoed eerily. “But it just has the map on it. I bet Leo and Beckendorf could come up with a way to demigod proof some tech though. Maybe we should suggest that when we get back.”

Annabeth didn’t bring up the fact that Leo would be sacrificing himself a matter of minutes after they defeated the giants. Percy didn’t either.

Finally, they reached the end of the tunnel. The walls bent in, creating a cave-like entrance. A roar of water like a waterfall echoed from inside. Percy squeezed Annabeth’s hand.

“The waterfall room,” Annabeth said. She looked scared and Percy couldn’t blame her. He wanted to turn around.

After a moment, they both started forward. By unspoken consensus or just to get it over with, Percy didn’t know.

They entered a circular chamber. Four waterfalls streamed down and flowed out to run into the sides of the tunnel Percy and Annabeth had come from. Two framed the sides of the doorway and two were directly across from those. The roar of the water was deafening.

“Can you guide us up?” Annabeth yelled over the water.

Percy stared at the water and focused. Nothing happened.

“There’s too much pressure!” Percy said, shaking his head. “Too much force. We’re going to have to climb!”

Annabeth shot him an incredulous look. Percy understood what she meant. Even for a son of Poseidon it was incredibly risky climbing a slippery wet cliff like that. One wrong move and SPLAT. No more Percy and Annabeth.

“I’ll go first,” Percy said. “I can’t force the water to move us up, but I can create a barrier that directs the water around us. Plus, I can try to dry the wall. But,” he grimaced, “I think we should tie ourselves together somehow. Worst case, you fall and I don’t realize it. If I fall with you… I should be able to cushion our fall since we’ll be moving in the same direction as the water. Do you have any rope?”

Annabeth reached into her backpack and pulled out a coil of rope. “Extra from when I was in the cavern under Rome. Knew I didn’t need to try and mark my progress, so… Anyway, this should work.” She gave Percy a worried look. “Are you going to be able to climb and keep us dry?”

Percy wished he had a better answer to that. Truthfully, he didn’t know.

“The Curse of Achilles gives me enhanced endurance,” Percy said.

Annabeth didn’t point out that he hadn’t really given her an answer. Percy was grateful for that.

“It’s the only way we’re going to get out,” Percy said. “Here, I’ll tie this end around my waist, you tie the other end.”

They left eight feet of slack between them since there would probably be about six feet difference from Percy’s waist to Annabeth’s waist.

Percy stepped up between the two waterfalls opposite the mouth of the cave. He reached out a hand towards the wall and willed the water away. His hand found a dry handhold. He took a deep breath and began to climb.

Chapter Text

PROBABLY THE HIGHLIGHT OF THE QUEST was the stop at the island of Mykonos. Which probably meant it was time for them to get bashed to pieces again. Or attacked by more crazy gods.

Frank and Hazel went ashore to scout. When they returned, they came bearing wonderful gifts.

The whole crew sat on deck, without a storm or a monster attack to worry about for the first time in days, and ate ice cream. Well, except for Frank, who was lactose intolerant. He got an apple. The day was hot and windy. The sea glittered with chop, but the stabilizers were working well enough that Hazel didn’t look too seasick.

“I love gelato,” Leo sighed happily as he ate a spoonful. “Praise the Italians. Hey, do you think Bianca or Nico can make gelato this good?”

“Just because they’re Italian doesn’t mean they can make gelato,” Piper said in a well-duh tone.

Leo didn’t really like the new Piper. Okay, so maybe he was stereotyping the di Angelos and maybe Piper was just defending them, but ever since the incident with the Erotes and the whole Piper doesn’t really have a soul or whatever, the daughter of Aphrodite had been getting on Leo’s nerves.

The obvious tension must have been seen by Alex because she spoke up, “Nah, but Nico knows this place in Maine that apparently has amazing gelato.” She had two small cups of gelato—one pink and one green. Because of course she did.

“I’ve never been there,” Alex continued. “He just promised to take us all one day if we survive this war. So no one better die,” she added, narrowing her eyes. “At least not permanently.”

Leo avoided looking at Alex. He focused on his gelato. It was really out of this world.

Curving off to their starboard side was the town of Mykonos—a collection of white stucco buildings with blue roofs, blue windows and blue doors.

“We saw these pelicans walking around town,” Hazel reported. “Like, just going through the shops, stopping at the bars. We thought they might be monsters in disguise, but…”

“Apparently they’re like the town mascots,” Frank said. “They’re just regular pelicans. And there’s a ‘Little Italy’ section of town. That’s why the gelato is so good.” He grinned sheepishly. “Well, I assume it’s good.”

“Europe is messed up.” Leo shook his head. “First we go to Rome for Spanish steps. Then we go to Greece for Italian ice cream.”

But he couldn’t argue with the gelato. He ate his double chocolate delight and tried to imagine that he and his friends were just chilling on a vacation. Which made him wish Calypso was with him, which made him wish the war was over and everybody was alive… which made him sad. It was July 30. Less than forty-eight hours until G-Day, when Gaea, the Princess of Potty Sludge, would awaken in all her dirt-faced glory.

The strange thing was, the closer they got to August 1, the more upbeat his friends acted. Or maybe upbeat wasn’t the right word. They seemed to be pulling together for the final lap—aware that the next two days would make or break them. There was no point moping around when you faced imminent death. The end of the world made gelato taste a lot better.

Of course, the rest of the crew hadn’t been down in the stables with Leo, talking with the victory goddess Nike over the past three days…

Piper set down her ice-cream cup. “So, the island of Delos is right across the harbor. Artemis and Apollo’s home turf. Who’s going?”

“Me,” Leo said immediately.

Everybody stared at him.

“What?” Leo demanded. “I’m diplomatic and stuff. Frank and Hazel volunteered to back me up.”

“We did?” Frank lowered his half-eaten apple. “I mean… sure we did.”

Magnus snorted. “Yeah, that’s convincing.”

Hazel’s gold eyes flashed in the sunlight. “Leo, did you have a dream about this or something?”

“Yes,” Leo blurted. “Well… no. Not exactly. But… you got to trust me on this, guys. I need to talk to Apollo and Artemis. I’ve got an idea I need to bounce off them.”

“Yeah, okay,” Piper shrugged. “Frank, Leo, and Hazel. Just try not to get them mad like what happened with Nike.”

Frank and Hazel didn’t look hurt so much as they looked uncomfortable. Piper’s carelessness and blatant way of speaking now was something they all knew she couldn’t help, but that didn’t mean they could just ignore it.

“That sounds good,” Jason spoke up. “If you have an idea, I trust you.”

Leo felt guilty about that, especially considering what his idea was, but he mustered a smile. “Thanks, man.” He clasped his hands. “Okay, guys, if they have a souvenir shop on Delos, I’m totally bringing you back some Apollo and Artemis bobbleheads!”

Apollo wasn’t selling bobbleheads.

Frank had turned into a giant eagle to fly to Delos, but Leo hitched a ride with Hazel on Arion’s back. No offence to Frank, but after the fiasco at Fort Sumter Leo had become a conscientious objector to riding giant eagles. He had a one hundred percent failure rate.

They found the island deserted, maybe because the seas were too choppy for the tourist boats. The windswept hills were barren except for rocks, grass and wildflowers—and, of course, a bunch of crumbling temples. The rubble was probably very impressive, but, ever since Olympia, Leo had been on ancient ruins overload. He was so done with white marble columns. He wanted to get back to the U.S., where the oldest buildings were the public schools and Ye Olde McDonald’s.

They walked down an avenue lined with white stone lions, the faces weathered almost featureless.

“It’s eerie,” Hazel said.

“You sense any ghosts?” Frank asked.

She shook her head. “The lack of ghosts is eerie. Back in ancient times, Delos was sacred ground. No mortal was allowed to be born here or die here. There are literally no mortal spirits on this whole island.”

“Cool with me,” Leo said. “Does that mean nobody’s allowed to kill us here?”

“I didn’t say that.” Hazel stopped at the summit of a low hill. “Look. Down there.”

Below them, the hillside had been carved into an amphitheatre. Scrubby plants sprouted between the rows of stone benches, so it looked like a concert for thorn bushes. Down at the bottom, sitting on a block of stone in the middle of the stage, the god Apollo hunched over a ukulele, plucking out a mournful tune.

At least, Leo assumed it was Apollo. The dude looked about seventeen, with curly blond hair and a perfect tan. He wore tattered jeans, a black T-shirt and a white linen jacket with glittering rhinestone lapels, like he was trying for an Elvis/Ramones/Beach Boys hybrid look. Leo didn’t usually think of the ukulele as a sad instrument. (Pathetic, sure. But not sad.) Yet the tune Apollo strummed was so melancholy it broke Leo’s feels.

Sitting in the front row was a young girl of about thirteen, wearing black leggings and a silver tunic, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was whittling on a long piece of wood—making a bow.

“Those are the gods?” Frank asked. “They don’t look like twins.”

“Well, think about it,” Hazel said. “If you’re a god, you can look like whatever you want. If you had a twin—”

“I’d choose to look like anything but my sibling,” Frank agreed. “So what’s the plan?”

“Don’t shoot!” yelled Leo. It seemed like a good opening line, facing two archery gods. He raised his arms and headed down to the stage.

Neither god looked surprised to see them.

Apollo sighed and went back to playing his ukulele.

When they got to the front row, Artemis muttered, “There you are. We were beginning to wonder.”

That took the pressure out of Leo’s pistons. He’d been ready to introduce himself, explain how they’d come in peace, maybe tell a few jokes and offer breath mints.

“So you were expecting us, then,” Leo said. “I can tell, because you’re both so excited.”

Apollo plucked a tune that sounded like the funeral version of ‘Camptown Races’. “We were expecting to be found, bothered and tormented. We didn’t know by whom. Can you not leave us to our misery?”

“You know they can’t, brother,” Artemis chided. “They require our help with their quest, even if the odds are hopeless.”

“You two are full of good cheer,” Leo said. “Why are you hiding out here anyway? Shouldn’t you be… I dunno, fighting giants or something?”

Artemis’s pale eyes made Leo feel like he was a deer carcass about to be gutted.

“Delos is our birthplace,” said the goddess. “Here, we are unaffected by the Greek–Roman schism. Believe me, Leo Valdez, if I could, I would be with my Hunters, facing our old enemy Orion. Unfortunately, if I stepped off this island, I would become incapacitated with pain. All I can do is watch helplessly while Orion slaughters my followers. Many gave their lives to protect your friends and that accursed Athena statue.”

Hazel made a strangled sound. “You mean Nico? And Bianca? Reyna and Coach Hedge? Are they all right?”

“All right?” Apollo sobbed over his ukulele. “None of us are alright, girl! Gaea is rising!”

Artemis glared at Apollo. “Hazel Levesque, your brother and sister are still alive. They are brave fighters, like you. I wish I could say the same for my brother.”

“You wrong me!” Apollo wailed. “I was misled by Gaea and that horrible Roman child!”

Frank cleared his throat. “Uh, Lord Apollo, you mean Octavian?”

“Do not speak his name!” Apollo strummed a minor chord. “Oh, Frank Zhang, if only you were my child. I heard your prayers, you know, all those weeks you wanted to be claimed. But alas! Mars gets all the good ones. I get… that creature as my descendant. He filled my head with compliments. He told me of the great temples he would build in my honor.”

Artemis snorted. “You are easily flattered, brother.”

“Because I have so many amazing qualities to praise! Octavian said he wanted to make the Romans strong again. I said fine! I gave him my blessing.”

“As I recall,” said Artemis, “he also promised to make you the most important god of the legion, above even Zeus.”

“Well, who was I to argue with an offer like that? Does Zeus have a perfect tan? Can he play the ukulele? I think not! But I never thought Octavian would start a war! Gaea must have been clouding my thoughts, whispering in my ear.”

Leo remembered the crazy wind dude Aeolus, who’d gone homicidal after hearing Gaea’s voice.

“So fix it,” he said. “Tell Octavian to stand down. Or, you know, shoot him with one of your arrows. That would be fine, too.”

“I cannot!” Apollo wailed. “Look!”

His ukulele turned into a bow. He aimed at the sky and shot. The golden arrow sailed about two hundred feet, then disintegrated into smoke.

“To shoot my bow, I would have to step off Delos,” Apollo cried. “Then I would be incapacitated, or Zeus would strike me down. Father never liked me. He hasn’t trusted me for millennia!”

“Well,” Artemis said, “to be fair, there was that time you conspired with Hera to overthrow him.”

“That was a misunderstanding!”

“And you killed some of Zeus’s Cyclopes.”

“I had a good reason for that! At any rate, now Zeus blames me for everything—Octavian’s schemes, the fall of Delphi—”

“Wait.” Hazel made a time-out sign. “The fall of Delphi?”

Apollo’s bow turned back into a ukulele. He plucked a dramatic chord. “When the schism began between Greek and Roman, while I struggled with confusion, Gaea took advantage! She raised my old enemy Python, the great serpent, to repossess the Delphic Oracle. That horrible creature is now coiled in the ancient caverns, blocking the magic of prophecy. I am stuck here, so I can’t even fight him.”

“Bummer,” Leo said, though secretly he thought that no more prophecies might be a good thing. His to-do list was already pretty full.

“Bummer indeed!” Apollo sighed. “Zeus was already angry with me for appointing that new girl, Rachel Dare, as my Oracle. Zeus seems to think I hastened the war with Gaea by doing so, since Rachel issued the Prophecy of Seven as soon as I blessed her. But prophecy doesn’t work that way! Father just needed someone to blame. So of course he picked the handsomest, most talented, hopelessly awesome god.”

Artemis made a gagging gesture.

“Oh, stop it, sister!” Apollo said. “You’re in trouble, too!”

“Only because I stayed in touch with my Hunters against Zeus’s wishes,” Artemis said. “But I can always charm Father into forgiving me. He’s never been able to stay mad at me. It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I’m worried about me, too!” Apollo agreed. “We have to do something. We can’t kill Octavian. Hmm. Perhaps we should kill these demigods.”

“Whoa there, Music Man.” Leo resisted the urge to hide behind Frank and yell, Take the big Canadian dude! “We’re on your side, remember? Why would you kill us?”

“It might make me feel better!” Apollo said. “I have to do something!”

“Or,” Leo said quickly, “you could help us. See, we’ve got this plan…”

He told them how Hera had directed them to Delos, and how Nike had described the ingredients for the physician’s cure.

“The physician’s cure?” Apollo stood and smashed his ukulele on the stones. “That’s your plan?”

Leo raised his hands. “Hey, um, usually I’m all for smashing ukuleles, but—”

“I cannot help you!” Apollo cried. “If I told you the secret of the physician’s cure, Zeus would never forgive me!”

“You’re already in trouble,” Leo pointed out. “How could it get worse?”

Apollo glared at him. “If you knew what my father is capable of, mortal, you would not ask. It would be simpler if I just smote you all. That might please Zeus—”

“Brother…” Artemis said.

The twins locked eyes and had a silent argument. Apparently Artemis won. Apollo heaved a sigh and kicked his broken ukulele across the stage.

Artemis rose. “Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, come with me. There are things you should know about the Twelfth Legion. As for you, Leo Valdez—” The goddess turned those cold silver eyes on him. “Apollo will hear you out. See if you can strike a deal. My brother always likes a good bargain.”

Frank and Hazel both glanced at him, like Please don’t die. Then they followed Artemis up the steps of the amphitheatre and over the crest of the hill.

“Well, Leo Valdez?” Apollo folded his arms. His eyes glowed with golden light. “Let us bargain, then. What can you offer that would convince me to help you rather than kill you?”

Chapter Text

“A BARGAIN.” Leo's fingers twitched. “Yeah. Absolutely.”

His hands went to work before his mind knew what he was doing. He started pulling things out of the pockets of his magic tool belt—copper wire, some bolts, a brass funnel. For months he’d been stashing away bits and pieces of machinery, because he never knew what he might need. And the longer he used the belt, the more intuitive it became. He’d reach in and the right items would simply appear.

“So the thing is,” Leo said as his hands twisted wire, “Zeus is already P.O.’ed at you, right? If you help us defeat Gaea, you could make it up to him.”

Apollo wrinkled his nose. “I suppose that’s possible. But it would be easier to smite you.”

“What kind of ballad would that make?” Leo’s hands worked furiously, attaching levers, fastening the metal funnel to an old gear shaft. “You’re the god of music, right? Would you listen to a song called ‘Apollo Smites a Runty Little Demigod’? I wouldn’t. But ‘Apollo Defeats the Earth Mother and Saves the Freaking Universe’… that sounds like a Billboard chart-topper!”

Apollo gazed into the air, as if envisioning his name on a marquee. “What do you want exactly? And what do I get out of it?”

“First thing I need: advice.” Leo strung some wires across the mouth of the funnel. “I want to know if a plan of mine will work.”

Leo explained what he had in mind. He’d been chewing on the idea for days, ever since Jason came back from the bottom of the sea and Leo started talking with Nike.

A primordial god has been defeated only once before, Himeros had said.

Jason had answered, Ouranos, the first god of the sky. And everyone knew how that turned out.

Leo’s conversations with Nike had helped him fine-tune the plan, but he still wanted a second opinion from another god. Because, once Leo committed himself, there would be no going back. He half hoped Apollo would laugh and tell him to forget it.

Instead, the god nodded thoughtfully. “I will give you this advice for free. You might be able to defeat Gaea in the way you describe, similar to the way Ouranos was defeated eons ago. However, any mortal close by would be utterly…” Apollo’s voice faltered. “What is that you have made?”

Leo looked down at the contraption in his hands. Layers of copper wires, like multiple sets of guitar strings, crisscrossed inside the funnel. Rows of striking pins were controlled by levers on the outside of the cone, which was fixed to a square metal base with a bunch of crank handles.

“Oh, this…?” Leo’s mind raced furiously. The thing looked like a music box fused with an old- fashioned phonograph, but what was it?

A bargaining chip.

Artemis had told him to make a deal with Apollo.

Leo remembered a story the kids in Cabin Eleven used to brag about: how their father, Hermes, had avoided punishment for stealing Apollo’s sacred cows. When Hermes got caught, he made a musical instrument—the first lyre—and traded it to Apollo, who immediately forgave him.

A few days ago, Piper mentioned seeing the cave on Pylos where Hermes hid those cows. That must’ve triggered Leo’s subconscious. Without even meaning to, he’d built a musical instrument, which kind of surprised him, since he knew nothing about music.

“Um, well,” Leo said, “this is quite simply the most amazing instrument ever!”

“How does it work?” asked the god.

Good question, Leo thought.

He turned the crank handles, hoping the thing wouldn’t explode in his face. A few clear tones rang out—metallic yet warm. Leo manipulated the levers and gears. He recognized the song that sprang forth—the same wistful melody Calypso sang for him on Ogygia about homesickness and longing. But, through the strings of the brass cone, the tune sounded even sadder, like a machine with a broken heart—the way Festus might sound if he could sing.

Leo forgot Apollo was there. He played the song all the way through. When he was done, his eyes stung. He could almost smell the fresh-baked bread from Calypso’s kitchen. He could taste the only kiss she’d ever given him.

Apollo stared in awe at the instrument. “I must have it. What is it called? What do you want for it?”

Leo had a sudden instinct to hide the instrument and keep it for himself. But he swallowed his melancholy. He had a task to complete.

Calypso… Calypso needed him to succeed.

“This is the Valdezinator, of course!” He puffed out his chest. “It works by, um, translating your feelings into music as you manipulate the gears. It’s really meant for me, a child of Hephaestus, to use, though. I don’t know if you could—”

“I am the god of music!” Apollo cried. “I can certainly master the Valdezinator. I must! It is my duty!”

“So let’s wheel and deal, Music Man,” Leo said. “I give you this; you give me the physician’s cure.”

“Oh…” Apollo bit his godly lip. “Well, I don’t actually have the physician’s cure.”

“I thought you were the god of medicine.”

“Yes, but I’m the god of many things! Poetry, music, the Delphic Oracle—” He broke into a sob and covered his mouth with his fist. “Sorry. I’m fine, I’m fine. As I was saying, I have many spheres of influence. Then, of course, I have the whole ‘sun god’ gig, which I inherited from Helios. The point is, I’m rather like a general practitioner. For the physician’s cure, you would need to see a specialist—the only one who has ever successfully cured death: my son Asclepius, the god of healers.”

Leo’s heart sank into his socks. The last thing they needed was another quest to find another god who would probably demand his own commemorative T-shirt or Valdezinator.

“That’s a shame, Apollo. I was hoping we could make a deal.” Leo turned the levers on his Valdezinator, coaxing out an even sadder tune.

“Stop!” Apollo wailed. “It’s too beautiful! I’ll give you directions to Asclepius. He’s really very close!”

“How do we know he’ll help us? We’ve only got two days until Gaea wakes.”

“He’ll help!” Apollo promised. “My son is very helpful. Just plead with him in my name. You’ll find him at his old temple in Epidaurus.”

“What’s the catch?”

“Ah… well, nothing. Except, of course, he’s guarded.”

“Guarded by what?”

“I don’t know!” Apollo spread his hands helplessly. “I only know Zeus is keeping Asclepius under guard so he doesn’t go running around the world resurrecting people. The first time Asclepius raised the dead… well, he caused quite an uproar. It’s a long story. But I’m sure you can convince him to help.”

“This isn’t sounding like much of a deal,” Leo said. “What about the last ingredient—the curse of Delos. What is it?”

Apollo eyed the Valdezinator greedily. Leo worried the god might just take it, and how could Leo stop him? Blasting the sun god with fire probably wouldn’t do much good.

“I can give the last ingredient to you,” Apollo said. “Then you’ll have everything you need for Asclepius to brew the potion.”

Leo played another verse. “I dunno. Trading this beautiful Valdezinator for some Delos curse—”

“It’s not actually a curse! Look…” Apollo sprinted to the nearest patch of wildflowers and picked a yellow one from a crack between the stones. “This is the curse of Delos.”

Leo stared at it. “A cursed daisy?”

Apollo sighed in exasperation. “That’s just a nickname. When my mother, Leto, was ready to give birth to Artemis and me, Hera was angry, because Zeus had cheated on her again. So she went around to every single landmass on earth. She made the nature spirits in each place promise to turn my mother away so she couldn’t give birth anywhere.”

“Sounds like something Hera would do.”

“I know, right? Anyway, Hera exacted promises from every land that was rooted on the earth—but not from Delos, because back then Delos was a floating island. The nature spirits of Delos welcomed my mother. She gave birth to my sister and me, and the island was so happy to be our new sacred home it covered itself in these little yellow flowers. The flowers are a blessing, because we’re awesome. But they also symbolize a curse, because once we were born Delos got rooted in place and wasn’t able to drift around the sea any more. That’s why yellow daisies are called the curse of Delos.”

“So I could have just picked a daisy myself and walked away.”

“No, no! Not for the potion you have in mind. The flower would have to be picked by either my sister or me. So what do you say, demigod? Directions to Asclepius and your last magical ingredient in exchange for that new musical instrument—do we have a deal?”

Leo hated to give away a perfectly good Valdezinator for a wildflower, but he saw no other choice. “You drive a hard bargain, Music Man.”

They made the trade.

“Excellent!” Apollo turned the levers of the Valdezinator, which made a sound like a car engine on a cold morning. “Hmm… perhaps it’ll take some practice, but I’ll get it! Now let us find your friends. The sooner you leave, the better!”

Hazel and Frank waited at the Delos docks. Artemis was nowhere in sight.

When Leo turned to tell Apollo goodbye, the god was gone, too.

“Man,” Leo muttered, “he was really anxious to practice his Valdezinator.”

“His what?” Hazel asked.

Leo told them about his new hobby as a genius inventor of musical funnels.

Frank scratched his head. “And in exchange you got a daisy?”

“It’s the final ingredient to cure death, Zhang. It’s a super daisy! How about you guys? Learn anything from Artemis?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Hazel gazed across the water, where the Argo II bobbed at anchor. “Artemis knows a lot about missile weapons. She told us Octavian has ordered some… surprises for Camp Half-Blood. He’s used most of the legion’s treasure to purchase Cyclopes-built onagers.”

“Oh, no, not onagers!” Leo said. “Also, what’s an onager?”

Frank scowled. “You build machines. How can you not know what an onager is? It’s just the biggest, baddest catapult ever used by the Roman army.”

“Fine,” Leo said. “But onager is a stupid name. They should’ve called them Valdezapults.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “Leo, this is serious. If Artemis is right, six of these machines will be rolling into Long Island tomorrow night. That’s what Octavian has been waiting for. At dawn on August first, he’ll have enough firepower to completely destroy Camp Half-Blood without a single Roman casualty. He thinks that’ll make him a hero.”

Frank muttered a Latin curse. “Except he’s also summoned so many monstrous ‘allies’ that the legion is completely surrounded by wild centaurs, tribes of dog-headed cynocephali, and who knows what else. As soon as the legion destroys Camp Half-Blood, the monsters will turn on Octavian and destroy the legion.”

“And then Gaea rises,” Leo said. “And bad stuff happens.”

In his head, gears turned as the new information clicked into place. “All right… this just makes my plan even more important. Once we get this physician’s cure, I’m going to need your help. Both of you.”

Frank glanced nervously at the cursed yellow daisy. “What kind of help?”

Leo told them his plan. The more he talked, the more shocked they looked, but when he was done neither of them told him he was crazy. A tear glistened on Hazel’s cheek.

“It has to be this way,” Leo said. “Nike confirmed it. Apollo confirmed it. The others would never accept it, but you guys… you’re Romans. That’s why I wanted you to come to Delos with me. You get the whole sacrifice thing – doing your duty, jumping on your sword.”

Frank sniffled. “I think you mean falling on your sword.”

“Whatever,” Leo said. “You know this has to be the answer.”

“Leo…” Frank choked up.

Leo himself wanted to cry like a Valdezinator, but he kept his cool. “Hey, big guy, I’m counting on you. Remember you told me about that conversation with Mars? Your dad said you’d have to step up, right? You’d have to make the call nobody else was willing to make.”

“Or the war would go sideways,” Frank remembered. “But still—”

“And Hazel,” Leo said. “Crazy Mist-magicky Hazel, you’ve got to cover for me. You’re the only one who can. My great-granddad Sammy saw how special you were. He blessed me when I was a baby, because I think somehow he knew you were going to come back and help me. Our whole lives, mi amiga, they’ve been leading up to this.”

“But… do Alex and Magnus know?” Hazel asked quietly. “Isn’t there another way?”

Leo swallowed. “Alex and I talked about it. She told me what she knows. Look, there’s no other way. Besides, it’s going to work, right? They’ve met me. I mean, other me. Me from their timeline. You know what I mean.”

“Oh, Leo…” Hazel really did burst into tears then. She grabbed him and hugged him, which was sweet until Frank started crying too and wrapped them both in his arms.

That got a little weird.

“Okay, well…” Leo gently extricated himself. “So we’re in agreement?”

“I hate this plan,” Frank said.

“I despise it,” Hazel said.

“Think how I feel,” Leo said. “But you know it’s our best shot.”

Neither of them argued. Leo kind of wished they had.

“Let’s get back to the ship,” he said. “We have a healer god to find.”

Chapter Text

LEO SPOTTED THE SECRET ENTRANCE IMMEDIATELY.

“Oh, that’s beautiful.” He manoeuvred the ship over the ruins of Epidaurus.

The Argo II really wasn’t in good shape to fly, but Leo had got her airborne after only one night of work. With the world ending tomorrow morning, he was highly motivated.

He’d primed the oar flaps. He’d injected Styx water into the samophlange. He’d treated Festus the figurehead to his favorite brew—thirty-weight motor oil and Tabasco sauce. Even Buford the Wonder Table had pitched in, rattling around belowdecks while his holographic Mini-Hedge yelled, “GIVE ME THIRTY PUSH-UPS!” to inspire the engine.

Now, at last, they hovered over the ancient temple complex of the healing god Asclepius, where they could hopefully find the physician’s cure and maybe also some ambrosia, nectar and Fonzies, because Leo’s supplies were running low.

Next to him on the quarterdeck, Magnus peered over the railing.

“Looks like more rubble,” he noted.

Piper followed Magnus’s gaze. “I’m with Magnus on this. It’s just rubble, Leo.”

“Nah,” Alex said, pointing to the disc-shaped structure about fifty yards off their port side. “There. See, look at that.”

Leo smiled. “Artist eye for detail.”

The rest of the crew gathered around.

“What are we looking at?” Frank asked.

“Ah, Señor Zhang,” Leo said, “you know how you’re always saying, ‘Leo, you are the only true genius among demigods’?”

“I’m pretty sure I never said that.”

“Well, turns out there are other true geniuses! Because one of them must have made that work of art down there.”

“It’s a stone circle,” Frank said. “Probably the foundation of an old shrine.”

Alex shook her head. “No, it’s more than that. Look at the ridges and grooves carved around the rim.”

“Like the teeth of a gear,” Jason offered.

“And those concentric rings.” Hazel pointed to the center of the structure, where curved stones formed a sort of bull’s-eye. “The pattern reminds me of Pasiphaë’s pendant: the symbol of the Labyrinth.”

“Huh.” Leo scowled. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that. But think mechanical. Frank, Hazel… where did we see concentric circles like that before?”

“The laboratory under Rome,” Frank said.

“The Archimedes lock on the door,” Hazel recalled. “It had rings within rings.”

Piper snorted. “You’re telling me that’s a massive stone lock? It’s, like, fifty feet in diameter.”

“Hey,” Magnus said pointedly.

Piper sighed. “Right. Sorry.”

That probably would have meant more if Piper actually meant the words—if she could mean the words. But given her current state, all she could do was give out meaningless apologies whenever someone pointed out that she was being rude.

“Annabeth had a lot of books,” Magnus said. “Like, a lot. So I’ve been reading. She must have tried to leave relevant information because I found a book on Asclepius. In ancient times, the temple of Asclepius was like the General Hospital of Greece. Everybody came here for the best healing. Aboveground, it was the size of a major city, but supposedly the real action happened belowground. That’s where the high priests had their intensive-care super-magical-type compound, accessed by a secret passage.”

“Nerd,” Alex said.

Magnus threw her a dirty look. “You’re welcome.”

“Now what?” Hazel asked.

Leo turned to Jason and Piper. “You guys remember the giant Archimedes grabber arm I told you I was building?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were kidding.”

“Oh, my friend, I never kid about giant grabber arms!” Leo rubbed his hands in anticipation. “It’s time to go fishing for prizes! Besides, if we do have to use this arm to grab our friends from the pits of hell, I’m going to need to test it out!”

Compared to the other modifications Leo had made to the ship, the grabber arm was a piece of cake. Originally, Archimedes had designed it to pluck enemy ships out of the water. Now Leo found another use for it.

He opened the hull’s forward access vent and extended the arm, guided by the console monitor and Jason, who flew outside, yelling directions.

“Left!” Jason called. “A couple of inches—yeah! Okay, down. Keep it coming. You’re good.”

Using his trackpad and turntable controls, Leo opened the claw. Its prongs settled around the grooves in the circular stone structure below. He checked the aerial stabilizers and the monitor’s video feed.

“Okay, little buddy.” Leo patted the Archimedes sphere embedded in the helm. “This is all you.” He activated the sphere.

The grabber arm began to turn like a corkscrew. It rotated the outer ring of stone, which ground and rumbled but thankfully didn’t shatter. Then the claw detached, fixed itself around the second stone ring and turned it in the opposite direction.

“Huh,” Piper said, staring at the monitor. “It’s working.”

Leo ignored the tiny prick of hurt that came when he heard the disbelief in Piper’s voice. He offered her a small smile. “Of course it did.”

He was about to make a comment about his own awesomeness, then he remembered the plan he had worked out with Hazel and Frank—and the fact that he might never see Piper as her normal self again after tomorrow. The joke sort of died in his throat.

Below them, the last stone ring turned and settled with a deep pneumatic hiss. The entire fifty-foot pedestal telescoped downward into a spiral staircase.

Hazel exhaled. “Leo, even from up here, I’m sensing bad stuff at the bottom of those stairs. Something… large and dangerous. You sure you don’t want me to come along?”

“Thanks, Hazel, but we’ll be good.” He patted Piper on the back. “Me and Piper and Jason—we’re old pros at large and dangerous.”

Frank held out the vial of Pylosian mint. “Don’t break it.”

Leo nodded gravely. “Don’t break the vial of deadly poison. Man, I’m glad you said that. Never would have occurred to me.”

“Shut up, Valdez.” Frank gave him a bear hug. “And be careful.”

“Ribs,” Leo squeaked.

“Sorry.”

Alex and Magnus wished them good luck.

Jason summoned the winds and whisked Piper and Leo down to the surface.

The stairs spiralled downward about sixty feet before opening into a chamber as large as Bunker Nine—which is to say, ginormous.

The polished white tiles on the walls and floor reflected the light of Jason’s sword so well that Leo didn’t need to make a fire. Rows of long stone benches filled the entire chamber, reminding Leo of one of those mega-churches they always advertised back in Houston. At the far end of the room, where the altar would have been, stood a ten-foot-tall statue of pure white alabaster—a young woman in a white robe, a serene smile on her face. In one hand she raised a cup, while a golden serpent coiled around her arm, its head poised over the brim as if ready to drink.

“Large and dangerous,” Jason guessed.

Piper scanned the room. “This must have been the sleeping area.” Her voice echoed a little too loudly for Leo’s comfort. “The patients stayed here overnight. The god Asclepius was supposed to send them a dream, telling them what cure to ask for.”

“How do you know that?” Leo asked. “Magnus told you?”

Piper sent him a scathing look. “Now who’s the insensitive soulless one? I know stuff too, okay? That statue over there is Hygeia, the daughter of Asclepius. She’s the goddess of good health. That’s where we get the word hygiene.”

Jason studied the statue warily. “What’s with the snake and the cup?”

“Uh, not sure,” Piper admitted. “But back in the day this place—the Asclepeion—was a medical school as well as a hospital. All the best doctor-priests trained here. They would’ve worshipped both Asclepius and Hygeia.”

Leo wanted to say, Okay, good tour. Let’s leave.

The silence, the gleaming white tiles, the creepy smile on Hygeia’s face… it all made him want to crawl out of his skin. But Jason and Piper headed down the center aisle towards the statue, so Leo figured he’d better follow.

Strewn across the benches were old magazines: Highlights for Children, Autumn, 20 B.C.E.; Hephaestus-TV Weekly—Aphrodite’s Latest Baby Bump; A: The Magazine of Asclepius—Ten Simple Tips to Get the Most out of Your Leeching!

“It’s a reception area,” Leo muttered. “I hate reception areas.”

Here and there, piles of dust and scattered bones lay on the floor, which did not say encouraging things about the average wait time.

“Check it out.” Jason pointed. “Were those signs here when we walked in? And that door?”

Leo didn’t think so. On the wall to the right of the statue, above a closed metal door, were two electronic sign boards. The top one read:

THE DOCTOR IS:

INCARCERATED.

The sign below that read:

NOW SERVING NUMBER: 0000000

Jason squinted. “I can’t read it that far away. The doctor is…”

“Incarcerated,” Leo said. “Apollo warned me that Asclepius was being held under guard. Zeus didn’t want him sharing his medical secrets or something.”

“Twenty bucks and the souls of the innocent that statue is the guardian,” Piper said.

“First of all, I’m not taking that bet,” Leo said, staring at Piper. “Second of all, what was that?”

Piper blinked. “A joke?”

“Just because you’re soulless doesn’t mean you get to make Nico tier dark humor jokes,” Leo shivered. “That was just… creepy.” He glanced at the nearest pile of waiting-room dust. “Well… I guess we take a number.”

The giant statue had other ideas.

When they got within five feet, she turned her head and looked at them. Her expression remained frozen. Her mouth didn’t move. But a voice issued from somewhere above, echoing through the room.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“Does your mouth work?” Piper fired back.

Jason slapped a hand over Piper’s mouth. He tried for a grin. “Haha, my friend is kidding. Um, we’re actually here to see Asclepius. Apollo sent us.”

The alabaster statue stepped off her dais. She might have been mechanical, but Leo couldn’t hear any moving parts. To be certain, he’d actually have to touch her, and he didn’t want to get that close.

“I see.” The statue kept smiling, though she didn’t sound pleased. “May I make a copy of your insurance cards?”

“Lady, we’re teenages,” Piper said. Apparently she managed to free herself from Jason’s grip. “Do you think we carry our insurance cards?”

“No insurance cards?” The statue shook her head. An exasperated sigh echoed through the chamber. “I suppose you haven’t prepared for your visit, either. Have you washed your hands thoroughly?”

“Yes,” Jason said quickly before Piper could say anything snarky.

Leo looked at his hands, which, as usual, were streaked with grease and grime. He hid them behind his back.

“Are you wearing clean underwear?” the statue asked.

“Hey, lady,” Leo said, “that’s getting personal.”