THE THING ABOUT PLUMMETING DOWNHILL at fifty miles an hour
on a snack platter – if you realize it’s a bad idea when
you’re halfway down, it’s too late.
Percy narrowly missed a tree, glanced off a boulder, and
spun a three-sixty as he shot towards the highway. The
stupid snack tray did not have power steering.
He heard the gorgon sisters screaming and caught a
glimpse of Euryale’s coral-snake hair at the top of the hill,
but he didn’t have time to worry about it. The roof of the
apartment building loomed below him like the prow of a
battleship. Head-on collision in ten, nine, eight …
He managed to swivel sideways to avoid breaking his
legs on impact. The snack platter skittered across the roof
and sailed through the air. The platter went one way. Percy
went the other.
As he fell towards the highway, a horrible scenario
flashed through his mind: his body smashing against an
SUV’s windshield, some annoyed commuter trying to push
him off with the wipers. Stupid sixteen-year-old kid falling
from the sky! I’m late!
Miraculously, a gust of wind blew him to one side – just
enough to miss the highway and crash into a clump of
bushes. It wasn’t a soft landing, but it was better than
tarmac.
Percy groaned. He wanted to lie there and pass out, but
he had to keep moving.
He struggled to his feet. His hands were scratched up,
but no bones seemed to be broken. He still had his
backpack. Somewhere on the sled ride he’d lost his sword,
but Percy knew it would eventually reappear in his pocket in
pen form. That was part of its magic.
He glanced up the hill. The gorgons were hard to miss,
with their colourful snake hair and their bright green Bargain
Mart vests. They were picking their way down the slope,
going slower than Percy but with a lot more control. Those
chicken feet must’ve been good for climbing. Percy figured
he had maybe five minutes before they reached him.
Next to him, a tall chain-link fence separated the highway
from a neighbourhood of winding streets, cosy houses and
eucalyptus trees. The fence was probably there to keep
people from getting onto the highway and doing stupid
things – like sledding into the fast lane on snack trays – but
the chain-link was full of big holes. Percy could easily slip
through into the neighbourhood. Maybe he could find a car
and drive west to the ocean. He didn’t like stealing cars, but
over the past few weeks, in life-and-death situations, he’d
‘borrowed’ several, including a police cruiser. He’d meant
to return them, but they never seemed to last very long.
He glanced east. Just as he’d figured, a hundred yards
uphill the highway cut through the base of the cliff. Two
tunnel entrances, one for each direction of traffic, stared
down at him like eye sockets of a giant skull. In the middle,
where the nose would have been, a cement wall jutted from
the hillside, with a metal door like the entrance to a bunker.
It might have been a maintenance tunnel. That’s probably
what mortals thought, if they noticed the door at all. But they
couldn’t see through the Mist. Percy knew the door was
more than that.
Two kids in armour flanked the entrance. They wore a
bizarre mix of plumed Roman helmets, breastplates,
scabbards, blue jeans, purple T-shirts and white trainers.
The guard on the right looked like a girl, though it was hard
to tell for sure with all the armour. The one on the left was a
stocky guy with a bow and quiver on his back. Both kids
held long wooden staffs with iron spear tips, like oldfashioned
harpoons.
Percy’s internal radar was pinging like crazy. After so
many horrible days, he’d finally reached his goal. His
instincts told him that if he could make it inside that door he
might find safety for the first time since the wolves had sent
him south.
So why did he feel such dread?
Further up the hill, the gorgons were scrambling over the
roof of the apartment complex. Three minutes away –
maybe less.
Part of him wanted to run to the door in the hill. He’d have
to cross to the median of the highway, but then it would be a
short sprint. He could make it before the gorgons reached
short sprint. He could make it before the gorgons reached
him.
Part of him wanted to head west to the ocean. That’s
where he’d be safest. That’s where his power would be
greatest. Those Roman guards at the door made him
uneasy. Something inside him said: This isn’t my territory.
This is dangerous.
‘You’re right, of course,’ said a voice next to him.
Percy jumped. At first he thought Beano had managed to
sneak up on him again, but the old lady sitting in the bushes
was even more repulsive than a gorgon. She looked like a
hippie who’d been kicked to the side of the road maybe
forty years ago, where she’d been collecting trash and rags
ever since. She wore a dress made of tie-dyed cloth,
ripped-up quilts, and plastic grocery bags. Her frizzy mop of
hair was grey-brown, like root-beer foam, tied back with a
peace-sign headband. Warts and moles covered her face.
When she smiled, she showed exactly three teeth.
‘It isn’t a maintenance tunnel,’ she confided. ‘It’s the
entrance to camp.’
A jolt went up Percy’s spine. Camp. Yes, that’s where he
was from. A camp. Maybe this was his home. Maybe
Annabeth was close by.
But something felt wrong.
The gorgons were still on the roof of the apartment
building. Then Stheno shrieked in delight and pointed in
Percy’s direction.
The old hippie lady raised her eyebrows. ‘Not much time,
child. You need to make your choice.’
‘Who are you?’ Percy asked, though he wasn’t sure he
wanted to know. The last thing he needed was another
harmless mortal who turned out to be a monster.
‘Oh, you can call me June.’ The old lady’s eyes sparkled
as if she’d made an excellent joke. ‘It is June, isn’t it? They
named the month after me!’
‘Okay … Look, I should go. Two gorgons are coming. I
don’t want them to hurt you.’
June clasped her hands over her heart. ‘How sweet! But
that’s part of your choice!’
‘My choice …’ Percy glanced nervously towards the hill.
The gorgons had taken off their green vests. Wings
sprouted from their backs – small bat wings, which glinted
like brass.
Since when did they have wings? Maybe they were
Ornamental. Maybe they were too small to get a gorgon
into the air. Then the two sisters leaped off the apartment
building and soared towards him.
Great. Just great.
‘Yes, a choice,’ June said, as if she were in no hurry. ‘You
could leave me here at the mercy of the gorgons and go to
the ocean. You’d make it there safely, I guarantee. The
gorgons will be quite happy to attack me and let you go. In
the sea, no monster would bother you. You could begin a
new life, live to a ripe old age, and escape a great deal of
pain and misery that is in your future.’
Percy was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like the second
option. ‘Or?’
‘Or you could do a good deed for an old lady,’ she said.
‘Carry me to the camp with you.’
‘Carry you?’ Percy hoped she was kidding. Then June
hiked up her skirts and showed him her swollen purple feet.
‘I can’t get there by myself,’ she said. ‘Carry me to camp
– across the highway, through the tunnel, across the river.’
Percy didn’t know what river she meant, but it didn’t
sound easy. June looked pretty heavy.
The gorgons were only fifty yards away now – leisurely
gliding towards him as if they knew the hunt was almost
over.
Percy looked at the old lady. ‘And I’d carry you to this
camp because – ?’
‘Because it’s a kindness!’ she said. ‘And if you don’t the
gods will die, the world we know will perish and everyone
from your old life will be destroyed. Of course, you wouldn’t
remember them, so I suppose it won’t matter. You’d be
safe at the bottom of the sea …’
Percy swallowed. The gorgons shrieked with laughter as
they soared in for the kill.
‘If I go to the camp,’ he said, ‘will I get my memory back?’
‘Eventually,’ June said. ‘But be warned, you will sacrifice
much! You’ll lose the mark of Achilles. You’ll feel pain,
misery and loss beyond anything you’ve ever known. But
you might have a chance to save your old friends and
family, to reclaim your old life.’
The gorgons were circling right overhead. They were
Probably studying the old woman, trying to figure out who
the new player was before they struck.
‘What about those guards at the door?’ Percy asked.
June smiled. ‘Oh, they’ll let you in, dear. You can trust
those two. So, what do you say? Will you help a
defenceless old woman?’
Percy doubted June was defenceless. At worst, this was
a trap. At best, it was some kind of test.
Percy hated tests. Since he’d lost his memory, his whole
life was one big fill-in-the-blank. He was
____________________, from ____________________.
He felt like ____________________, and if the monsters
caught him, he’d be ____________________.
Then he thought about Annabeth, the only part of his old
life he was sure about. He had to find her.
‘I’ll carry you.’ He scooped up the old woman.
She was lighter than he expected. Percy tried to ignore
her sour breath and her calloused hands clinging to his
neck. He made it across the first lane of traffic. A driver
honked. Another yelled something that was lost in the wind.
Most just swerved and looked irritated, as if they had to
deal with a lot of ratty teenagers carrying old hippie women
across the highway here in Berkeley.
A shadow fell over him. Stheno called down gleefully,
‘Clever boy! Found a goddess to carry, did you?’
A goddess?
June cackled with delight, muttering, ‘Whoops!’ as a car
almost killed them.
Somewhere off to his left, Euryale screamed, ‘Get them!
Two prizes are better than one!’
Percy bolted across the remaining lanes. Somehow he
made it to the median alive. He saw the gorgons swooping
down, cars swerving as the monsters passed overhead. He
wondered what the mortals saw through the Mist – giant
pelicans? Off-course hang gliders? The wolf Lupa had told
him that mortal minds could believe just about anything –
except the truth.
Percy ran for the door in the hillside. June got heavier
with every step. Percy’s heart pounded. His ribs ached.
One of the guards yelled. The guy with the bow nocked
an arrow. Percy shouted, ‘Wait!’
But the boy wasn’t aiming at him. The arrow flew over
Percy’s head. A gorgon wailed in pain. The second guard
readied her spear, gesturing frantically at Percy to hurry.
Fifty feet from the door. Thirty feet.
‘Gotcha!’ shrieked Euryale. Percy turned as an arrow
thudded into her forehead. Euryale tumbled into the fast
lane. A truck slammed into her and carried her backwards
a hundred yards, but she just climbed over the cab, pulled
the arrow out of her head, and launched back into the air.
Percy reached the door. ‘Thanks,’ he told the guards.
‘Good shot.’
‘That should’ve killed her!’ the archer protested.
‘Welcome to my world,’ Percy muttered.
‘Frank,’ the girl said. ‘Get them inside, quick! Those are
gorgons.’
‘Gorgons?’ The archer’s voice squeaked. It was hard to
tell much about him under the helmet, but he looked stout
like a wrestler, maybe fourteen or fifteen. ‘Will the door hold
them?’
In Percy’s arms, June cackled. ‘No, no it won’t. Onward,
Percy Jackson! Through the tunnel, over the river!’
‘Percy Jackson?’ The female guard was darker-skinned,
with curly hair sticking out the sides of her helmet. She
looked younger than Frank – maybe thirteen. Her sword
scabbard came down almost to her ankle. Still, she
sounded like she was the one in charge. ‘Okay, you’re
obviously a demigod. But who’s the –?’ She glanced at
June. ‘Never mind. Just get inside. I’ll hold them off.’
‘Hazel,’ the boy said. ‘Don’t be crazy.’
‘Go!’ she demanded.
Frank cursed in another language – was that Latin? –
and opened the door. ‘Come on!’
Percy followed, staggering under the weight of the old
lady, who was definitely getting heavier. He didn’t know
how that girl Hazel would hold off the gorgons by herself, but
he was too tired to argue.
The tunnel cut through solid rock, about the width and
height of a school hallway. At first, it looked like a typical
maintenance tunnel, with electric cables, warning signs,
fuse boxes on the walls and lightbulbs in wire cages along
the ceiling. As they ran deeper into the hillside, the cement
floor changed to tiled mosaic. The lights changed to reed
torches, which burned but didn’t smoke. A few hundred
yards ahead, Percy saw a square of daylight.
The old lady was heavier now than a pile of sandbags.
Percy’s arms shook from the strain. June mumbled a song
in Latin, like a lullaby, which didn’t help Percy concentrate.
Behind them, the gorgons’ voices echoed in the tunnel.
Hazel shouted. Percy was tempted to dump June and run
back to help, but then the entire tunnel shook with the
rumble of falling stone. There was a squawking sound, just
like the gorgons had made when Percy had dropped a
crate of bowling balls on them in Napa. He glanced back.
The west end of the tunnel was now filled with dust.
‘Shouldn’t we check on Hazel?’ he asked.
‘She’ll be okay – I hope,’ Frank said. ‘She’s good
underground. Just keep moving! We’re almost there.’
‘Almost where?’
June chuckled. ‘All roads lead there, child. You should
know that.’
‘Detention?’ Percy asked.
‘Rome, child,’ the old woman said. ‘Rome.’
Percy wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. True, his memory
was gone. His brain hadn’t felt right since he had woken up
at the Wolf House. But he was pretty sure Rome wasn’t in
California.
They kept running. The glow at the end of the tunnel grew
brighter, and finally they burst into sunlight.
Percy froze. Spread out at his feet was a bowl-shaped
valley several miles wide. The basin floor was rumpled with
smaller hills, golden plains and stretches of forest. A small
clear river cut a winding course from a lake in the centre
and round the perimeter, like a capital G.
The geography could’ve been anywhere in northern
California – live oaks and eucalyptus trees, gold hills and
blue skies. That big inland mountain – what was it called,
Mount Diablo? – rose in the distance, right where it should
be.But Percy felt like he’d stepped into a secret world. In the
centre of the valley, nestled by the lake, was a small city of
white marble buildings with red-tiled roofs. Some had
domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments.
domes and columned porticoes, like national monuments.
Others looked like palaces, with golden doors and large
gardens. He could see an open plaza with freestanding
columns, fountains and statues. A five-storey-tall Roman
coliseum gleamed in the sun, next to a long oval arena like
a racetrack.
Across the lake to the south, another hill was dotted with
even more impressive buildings – temples, Percy guessed.
Several stone bridges crossed the river as it wound through
the valley and, in the north, a long line of brickwork arches
stretched from the hills into the town. Percy thought it
looked like an elevated train track. Then he realized it must
be an aqueduct.
The strangest part of the valley was right below him.
About two hundred yards away, just across the river, was
some sort of military encampment. It was about a quarter
mile square, with earthen ramparts on all four sides, the
tops lined with sharpened spikes. Outside the walls ran a
dry moat, also studded with spikes. Wooden watchtowers
rose at each corner, manned by sentries with oversized
mounted crossbows. Purple banners hung from the towers.
A wide gateway opened on the far side of camp, leading
towards the city. A narrower gate stood closed on the
riverbank side. Inside, the fortress bustled with activity:
dozens of kids going to and from barracks, carrying
weapons, polishing armour. Percy heard the clank of
hammers at a forge and smelled meat cooking over a fire.
Something about this place felt very familiar, yet not quite
right.
‘Camp Jupiter,’ Frank said. ‘We’ll be safe once –’
Footsteps echoed in the tunnel behind them. Hazel burst
into the light. She was covered with stone dust and
breathing hard. She’d lost her helmet, so her curly brown
hair fell around her shoulders. Her armour had long slash
marks in front from the claws of a gorgon. One of the
monsters had tagged her with a 50% OFF sticker.
‘I slowed them down,’ she said. ‘But they’ll be here any
second.’
Frank cursed. ‘We have to get across the river.’
June squeezed Percy’s neck tighter. ‘Oh, yes, please. I
can’t get my dress wet.’
Percy bit his tongue. If this lady was a goddess, she
must’ve been the goddess of smelly, heavy, useless
hippies. But he’d come this far. He’d better keep lugging
her along.
It’s a kindness, she’d said. And if you don’t the gods will
die, the world we know will perish and everyone from your
old life will be destroyed.
If this was a test, he couldn’t afford to get an F.
He stumbled a few times as they ran for the river. Frank
and Hazel kept him on his feet.
They reached the riverbank, and Percy stopped to catch
his breath. The current was fast, but the river didn’t look
deep. Only a stone’s throw across stood the gates of the
fort.
‘Go, Hazel.’ Frank nocked two arrows at once. ‘Escort
Percy so the sentries don’t shoot him. It’s my turn to hold off
the baddies.’
Hazel nodded and waded into the stream.
Percy started to follow, but something made him
hesitate. Usually he loved the water, but this river
seemed … powerful, and not necessarily friendly.
‘The Little Tiber,’ said June sympathetically. ‘It flows with
the power of the original Tiber, river of the empire. This is
your last chance to back out, child. The mark of Achilles is a
Greek blessing. You can’t retain it if you cross into Roman
territory. The Tiber will wash it away.’
Percy was too exhausted to understand all that, but he
got the main point. ‘If I cross, I won’t have iron skin any
more?’
June smiled. ‘So what will it be? Safety, or a future of
pain and possibility?’
Behind him, the gorgons screeched as they flew from the
tunnel. Frank let his arrows fly.
From the middle of the river, Hazel yelled, ‘Percy, come
on!’ Up on the watchtowers, horns blew. The sentries shouted
and swivelled their crossbows towards the gorgons.
Annabeth, Percy thought. He forged into the river. It was
icy cold, much swifter than he’d imagined, but that didn’t
bother him. New strength surged through his limbs. His
senses tingled like he’d been injected with caffeine. He
reached the other side and put the old woman down as the
camp’s gates opened. Dozens of kids in armour poured
out. Hazel turned with a relieved smile. Then she looked over
Percy’s shoulder, and her expression changed to horror.
‘Frank!’
Frank was halfway across the river when the gorgons
caught him. They swooped out of the sky and grabbed him
by either arm. He screamed in pain as their claws dug into
his skin.
The sentries yelled, but Percy knew they couldn’t get a
clear shot. They’d end up killing Frank. The other kids drew
swords and got ready to charge into the water, but they’d
be too late.
There was only one way.
Percy thrust out his hands. An intense tugging sensation
filled his gut, and the Tiber obeyed his will. The river
surged. Whirlpools formed on either side of Frank. Giant
watery hands erupted from the stream, copying Percy’s
movements. The giant hands grabbed the gorgons, who
dropped Frank in surprise. Then the hands lifted the
squawking monsters in a liquid vice grip.
Percy heard the other kids yelping and backing away, but
he stayed focused on his task. He made a smashing
gesture with his fists, and the giant hands plunged the
gorgons into the Tiber. The monsters hit bottom and broke
into dust. Glittering clouds of gorgon essence struggled to
re-form, but the river pulled them apart like a blender. Soon
every trace of the gorgons was swept downstream. The
whirlpools vanished, and the current returned to normal.
Percy stood on the riverbank. His clothes and his skin
steamed as if the Tiber’s waters had given him an acid
bath. He felt exposed, raw … vulnerable.
In the middle of the Tiber, Frank stumbled around,
looking stunned but perfectly fine. Hazel waded out and
helped him ashore. Only then did Percy realize how quiet
the other kids had become.
Everyone was staring at him. Only the old lady June
looked unfazed.
‘Well, that was a lovely trip,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Percy
Jackson, for bringing me to Camp Jupiter.’
One of the girls made a choking sound.
‘Percy … Jackson?’
‘Percy … Jackson?’
She sounded as if she recognized his name. Percy
focused on her, hoping to see a familiar face.
She was obviously a leader. She wore a regal purple
cloak over her armour. Her chest was decorated with
medals. She must have been about Percy’s age, with dark,
piercing eyes and long black hair. Percy didn’t recognize
her, but the girl stared at him as if she’d seen him in her
nightmares.
June laughed with delight. ‘Oh, yes. You’ll have such fun
together!’
Then, just because the day hadn’t been weird enough
already, the old lady began to glow and change form. She
grew until she was a shining seven-foot-tall goddess in a
blue dress, with a cloak that looked like goat’s skin over her
shoulders. Her face was stern and stately. In her hand was
a staff topped with a lotus flower.
If it was possible for the campers to look more stunned,
they did. The girl with the purple cloak knelt. The others
followed her lead. One kid got down so hastily he almost
impaled himself on his sword.
Hazel was the first to speak. ‘Juno.’
She and Frank also fell to their knees, leaving Percy the
only one standing. He knew he should probably kneel too,
but after carrying the old lady so far, he didn’t feel like
showing her that much respect.
‘Juno, huh?’ he said. ‘If I passed your test, can I have my
memory and my life back?’
The goddess smiled. ‘In time, Percy Jackson, if you
succeed here at camp. You’ve done well today, which is a
good start. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet.’
She turned to the other kids. ‘Romans, I present to you
the son of Neptune. For months he has been slumbering,
but now he is awake. His fate is in your hands. The Feast of
Fortune comes quickly, and Death must be unleashed if
you are to stand any hope in the battle. Do not fail me!’
Juno shimmered and disappeared. Percy looked at
Hazel and Frank for some kind of explanation, but they
seemed just as confused as he was. Frank was holding
something Percy hadn’t noticed before – two small clay
flasks with cork stoppers, like potions, one in each hand.
Percy had no idea where they’d come from, but he saw
Frank slip them into his pockets. Frank gave him a look
like: We’ll talk about it later.
The girl in the purple cloak stepped forward. She
examined Percy warily, and Percy couldn’t shake the
feeling that she wanted to run him through with her dagger.
‘So,’ she said coldly, ‘a son of Neptune, who comes to us
with the blessing of Juno.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘my memory’s a little fuzzy. Um, it’s gone,
actually. Do I know you?’
The girl hesitated. ‘I am Reyna, praetor of the Twelfth
Legion. And … no, I don’t know you.’
That last part was a lie. Percy could tell from her eyes.
But he also understood that if he argued with her about it
here, in front of her soldiers, she wouldn’t appreciate it.
‘Hazel,’ said Reyna, ‘bring him inside. I want to question
him at the principia. Then we’ll send him to Octavian. We
must consult the auguries before we decide what to do with
him.’
‘What do you mean,’ Percy asked, ‘“decide what to do
with” me?’
Reyna’s hand tightened on her dagger. Obviously she
was not used to having her orders questioned. ‘Before we
accept anyone into camp, we must interrogate them and
read the auguries. Juno said your fate is in our hands. We
have to know whether the goddess has brought us a new
recruit …’
Reyna studied Percy as if she found that doubtful.
‘Or,’ she said more hopefully, ‘if she’s brought us an
enemy to kill.’
<3
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