The Mark of Athena - XXI Leo

AFTER RAIDING A MUSEUM FULL OF Confederate ghosts, Leo didn’t think his day could get any worse. He was wrong.
They hadn’t found anything in the Civil War sub or elsewhere in the museum; just a few elderly tourists, a dozing security guard, and—when they tried to inspect the artifacts—a whole battalion of glowing zombie dudes in gray uniforms.
The idea that Frank should be able to control the spirits? Yeah…that pretty much failed. By the time Piper sent her Iris-message warning them about the Roman attack, they were already halfway back to the ship, having been chased through downtown Charleston by a pack of angry dead Confederates.
Then—oh, boy!—Leo got to hitch a ride with Frank the Friendly Eagle so they could fight a bunch of Romans. Rumor must’ve gotten around that Leo was the one who had fired on their little city, because those Romans seemed especially anxious to kill him.
But wait! There was more! Coach Hedge shot them out of the sky; Frank dropped him (that was no accident); and they crash-landed in Fort Sumter.
Now, as the Argo II raced across the waves, Leo had to use all his skill just to keep the ship in one piece. Percy and Jason were a little too good at cooking up massive storms.
At one point, Annabeth stood next to him, yelling against the roar of the wind: “Percy says he talked to a Nereid in Charleston Harbor!”
“Good for him!” Leo yelled back.
“The Nereid said we should seek help from Chiron’s brothers.”
“What does that mean? The Party Ponies?” Leo had never met Chiron’s crazy centaur relatives, but he’d heard rumors of Nerf sword-fights, root beer–chugging contests, and Super Soakers filled with pressurized whipped cream.
“Not sure,” Annabeth said. “But I’ve got coordinates. Can you input latitude and longitude in this thing?”
“I can input star charts and order you a smoothie, if you want. Of course I can do latitude and longitude!”
Annabeth rattled off the numbers. Leo somehow managed to punch them in while holding the wheel with one hand. A red dot popped up on the bronze display screen.
“That location is in the middle of the Atlantic,” he said. “Do the Party Ponies have a yacht?”
Annabeth shrugged helplessly. “Just hold the ship together until we get farther from Charleston. Jason and Percy will keep up the winds!”
“Happy fun time!”
It seemed like forever, but finally the sea calmed and the winds died.
“Valdez,” said Coach Hedge, with surprising gentleness. “Let me take the wheel. You’ve been steering for two hours.”
“Two hours?”
“Yeah. Give me the wheel.”
“Coach?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I can’t unclench my hands.”
It was true. Leo’s fingers felt like they had turned to stone. His eyes burned from staring at the horizon. His knees were marshmallows. Coach Hedge managed to pry him from the wheel.
Leo took one last look at the console, listening to Festus chatter and whir a status report. Leo felt like he was forgetting something. He stared at the controls, trying to think, but it was no good. His eyes could hardly focus. “Just watch for monsters,” he told the coach. “And be careful with the damaged stabilizer. And—”
“I’ve got it covered,” Coach Hedge promised. “Now, go away!”
Leo nodded wearily. He staggered across the deck toward his friends.
Percy and Jason sat with their backs against the mast, their heads slumped in exhaustion. Annabeth and Piper were trying to get them to drink some water.
Hazel and Frank stood just out of earshot, having an argument that involved lots of arm waving and head shaking. Leo should not have felt pleased about that, but part of him did. The other part of him felt bad that he felt pleased.
The argument stopped abruptly when Hazel saw Leo. Everybody gathered at the mast.
Frank scowled like he was trying hard to turn into a bulldog. “No sign of pursuit,” he said.
“Or land,” Hazel added. She looked a little green, though Leo wasn’t sure if that was from the rocking of the boat or from arguing.
Leo scanned the horizon. Nothing but ocean in every direction. That shouldn’t have surprised him. He’d spent six months building a ship that he knew would cross the Atlantic. But until today, their embarking on a journey to the ancient lands hadn’t seemed real. Leo had never been outside the U.S. before—except for a quick dragon flight up to Quebec. Now they were in the middle of the open sea, completely on their own, sailing to the Mare Nostrum, where all the scary monsters and nasty giants had come from. The Romans might not follow them, but they couldn’t count on any help from Camp Half-Blood, either.
Leo patted his waist to make sure his tool belt was still there. Unfortunately that just reminded him of Nemesis’s fortune cookie, tucked inside one of the pockets.
You will always be an outsider. The goddess’s voice still wriggled around in his head. The seventh wheel.
Forget her, Leo told himself. Concentrate on the stuff you can fix.
He turned to Annabeth. “Did you find the map you wanted?”
She nodded, though she looked pale. Leo wondered what she’d seen at Fort Sumter that could have shaken her up so badly.
“I’ll have to study it,” she said, as if that was the end of the subject. “How far are we from those coordinates?”
“At top rowing speed, about an hour,” Leo said. “Any idea what we’re looking for?”
“No,” she admitted. “Percy?”
Percy raised his head. His green eyes were bloodshot and droopy. “The Nereid said Chiron’s brothers were there, and they’d want to hear about that aquarium in Atlanta. I don’t know what she meant, but…” He paused, like he’d used up all his energy saying that much. “She also warned me to be careful. Keto, the goddess at the aquarium: she’s the mother of sea monsters. She might be stuck in Atlanta, but she can still send her children after us. The Nereid said we should expect an attack.”
“Wonderful,” Frank muttered.
Jason tried to stand, which wasn’t a good idea. Piper grabbed him to keep him from falling over, and he slid back down the mast.
“Can we get the ship aloft?” he asked. “If we could fly—”
“That’d be great,” Leo said. “Except Festus tells me the port aerial stabilizer got pulverized when the ship raked against the dock at Fort Sumter.”
“We were in a hurry,” Annabeth said. “Trying to save you.”
“And saving me is a very noble cause,” Leo agreed. “I’m just saying, it’ll take some time to fix. Until then, we’re not flying anywhere.”
Percy flexed his shoulders and winced. “Fine with me. The sea is good.”
“Speak for yourself.” Hazel glanced at the evening sun, which was almost to the horizon. “We need to go fast. We’ve burned another day, and Nico only has three more left.”
“We can do it,” Leo promised. He hoped Hazel had forgiven him for not trusting her brother (hey, it had seemed like a reasonable suspicion to Leo), but he didn’t want to reopen that wound. “We can make it to Rome in three days—assuming, you know, nothing unexpected happens.”
Frank grunted. He looked like he was still working on that bulldog transformation. “Is there any good news?”
“Actually, yes,” Leo said. “According to Festus, our flying table, Buford, made it back safely while we were in Charleston, so those eagles didn’t get him. Unfortunately, he lost the laundry bag with your pants.”
“Dang it!” Frank barked, which Leo figured was probably severe profanity for him.
No doubt Frank would’ve cursed some more—busting out the golly gees and the gosh darns—but Percy interrupted by doubling over and groaning.
“Did the world just turn upside down?” he asked.
Jason pressed his hands to his head. “Yeah, and it’s spinning. Everything is yellow. Is it supposed to be yellow?”
Annabeth and Piper exchanged concerned looks.
“Summoning that storm really sapped your strength,” Piper told the boys. “You’ve got to rest.”
Annabeth nodded agreement. “Frank, can you help us get the guys belowdecks?”
Frank glanced at Leo, no doubt reluctant to leave him alone with Hazel.
“It’s fine, man,” Leo said. “Just try not to drop them on the way down the stairs.”
Once the others were below, Hazel and Leo faced each other awkwardly. They were alone except for Coach Hedge, who was back on the quarterdeck singing the Pokémon theme song. The coach had changed the words to: Gotta Kill ’Em All, and Leo really didn’t want to know why.
The song didn’t seem to help Hazel’s nausea.
“Ugh…” She leaned over and hugged her sides. She had nice hair—frizzy and golden brown like curls of cinnamon. Her hair reminded Leo of a place in Houston that made excellent churros. The thought made him hungry.
“Don’t lean over,” he advised. “Don’t close your eyes. It makes the queasiness worse.”
“It does? Do you get seasick too?”
“Not seasick. But cars make me nauseous, and…”
He stopped himself. He wanted to say talking to girls, but he decided to keep that to himself.
“Cars?” Hazel straightened with difficulty. “You can sail a ship or fly a dragon, but cars make you sick?”
“I know, right?” Leo shrugged. “I’m special that way. Look, keep your eyes on the horizon. That’s a fixed point. It’ll help.”
Hazel took a deep breath and stared into the distance. Her eyes were lustrous gold, like the copper and bronze disks inside Festus’s mechanical head.
“Any better?” he asked.
“Maybe a little.” She sounded like she was just being polite. She kept her eyes on the horizon, but Leo got the feeling she was gauging his mood, considering what to say.
“Frank didn’t drop you on purpose,” she said. “He’s not like that. He’s just a little clumsy sometimes.”
“Oops,” Leo said, in his best Frank Zhang voice. “Dropped Leo into a squad of enemy soldiers. Dang it!”
Hazel tried to suppress a smile. Leo figured smiling was better than throwing up.
“Go easy on him,” Hazel said. “You and your fireballs make Frank nervous.”
“The guy can turn into an elephant, and I make him nervous?”
Hazel kept her eyes on the horizon. She didn’t look quite so queasy, despite the fact that Coach Hedge was still singing his Pokémon song at the helm.
“Leo,” she said, “about what happened at the Great Salt Lake…”
Here it comes, Leo thought.
He remembered their meeting with the revenge goddess Nemesis. The fortune cookie in his tool belt started to feel heavier. Last night, as they flew from Atlanta, Leo had lain in his cabin and thought about how angry he’d made Hazel. He had thought about ways he could make it right.
Soon you will face a problem you cannot solve, Nemesis had said, though I could help you…for a price.
Leo had taken the fortune cookie out of his tool belt and turned it in his fingers, wondering what price he would have to pay if he broke it open.
Maybe now was the moment.
“I’d be willing,” he told Hazel. “I could use the fortune cookie to find your brother.”
Hazel looked stunned. “What? No! I mean…I’d never ask you to do that. Not after what Nemesis said about the horrible cost. We barely know each other!”
The barely know each other comment kind of hurt, though Leo knew it was true.
“So…that’s not what you wanted to talk about?” he asked. “Uh, did you want to talk about the holding-hands-on-the-boulder moment? Because—”
“No!” she said quickly, fanning her face in that cute way she did when she was flustered. “No, I was just thinking about the way you tricked Narcissus and those nymphs…”
“Oh, right.” Leo glanced self-consciously at his arm. The HOT STUFF tattoo hadn’t completely faded. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“You were amazing,” Hazel said. “I’ve been mulling it over, how much you reminded me of—”
“Sammy,” Leo guessed. “I wish you’d tell me who he is.”
“Who he was,” Hazel corrected. The evening air was warm, but she shivered. “I’ve been thinking…I might be able to show you.”
“You mean like a photo?”
“No. There’s a sort of flashback that happens to me. I haven’t had one in a long time, and I’ve never tried to make one happen on purpose. But I shared one with Frank once, so I thought…”
Hazel locked eyes with him. Leo started to feel jittery, like he’d been injected with coffee. If this flashback was something Frank had shared with Hazel…well, either Leo didn’t want any part of it, or he definitely wanted to try it. He wasn’t sure which.
“When you say flashback…” He swallowed. “What exactly are we talking about? Is it safe?”
Hazel held out her hand. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this, but I’m sure it’s important. It can’t be a coincidence we met. If this works, maybe we can finally understand how we’re connected.”
Leo glanced back at the helm. He still had a nagging suspicion he’d forgotten something, but Coach Hedge seemed to be doing fine. The sky ahead was clear. There was no sign of trouble.
Besides, a flashback sounded like a pretty brief thing. It couldn’t hurt to let the coach be in charge for a few more minutes, could it?
“Okay,” he relented. “Show me.”
He took Hazel’s hand, and the world dissolved.

Categories: The Mark of Athena

The Mark of Athena - XX Annabeth

THE NEW CIVIL WAR HAD BEGUN.
Leo had somehow escaped his fall unharmed. Annabeth saw him ducking from portico to portico, blasting fire at the giant eagles swooping down on him. Roman demigods tried to chase him, tripping over piles of cannonballs and dodging tourists, who screamed and ran in circles.
Tour guides kept yelling, “It’s just a reenactment!” Though they didn’t sound sure. The Mist could only do so much to change what mortals saw.
In the middle of the courtyard, a full-grown elephant—could that be Frank?—rampaged around the flagpoles, scattering Roman warriors. Jason stood about fifty yards away, sword-fighting with a stocky centurion whose lips were stained cherry red, like blood. A wannabe vampire, or maybe a Kool-Aid freak?
As Annabeth watched, Jason yelled, “Sorry about this, Dakota!”
He vaulted straight over the centurion’s head like an acrobat and slammed the hilt of his gladius into the back of the Roman’s head. Dakota crumpled.
“Jason!” Annabeth called.
He scanned the battlefield until he saw her.
She pointed to where the Argo II was docked. “Get the others aboard! Retreat!”
“What about you?” he called.
“Don’t wait for me!”
Annabeth bolted off before he could protest.
She had a hard time maneuvering through the mobs of tourists. Why did so many people want to see Fort Sumter on a sweltering summer day? But Annabeth quickly realized the crowds had saved their lives. Without the chaos of all these panicked mortals, the Romans would have already surrounded their outnumbered crew.
Annabeth dodged into a small room that must have been part of the garrison. She tried to steady her breathing. She imagined what it would have been like to be a Union soldier on this island in 1861. Surrounded by enemies. Dwindling food and supplies, no reinforcements coming.
Some of the Union defenders had been children of Athena. They’d hidden an important map here—something they didn’t want falling into enemy hands. If Annabeth had been one of those demigods, where would she have put it?
Suddenly the walls glistened. The air became warm. Annabeth wondered if she was hallucinating. She was about to run for the exit when the door slammed shut. The mortar between the stones blistered. The bubbles popped, and thousands of tiny black spiders swelled forth.
Annabeth couldn’t move. Her heart seemed to have stopped. The spiders blanketed the walls, crawling over one another, spreading across the floor and gradually surrounding her. It was impossible. This couldn’t be real.
Terror plunged her into memories. She was seven years old again, alone in her bedroom in Richmond, Virginia. The spiders came at night. They crawled in waves from her closet and waited in
the shadows. She yelled for her father, but her father was away for work. He always seemed to be away for work.
Her stepmother came instead.
I don’t mind being the bad cop, she had once told Annabeth’s father, when she didn’t think Annabeth could hear.
It’s only your imagination, her stepmother said about the spiders. You’re scaring your baby brothers.
They’re not my brothers, Annabeth argued, which made her stepmother’s expression harden. Her eyes were almost as scary as the spiders.
Go to sleep now, her stepmother insisted. No more screaming.
The spiders came back as soon as her stepmother had left the room. Annabeth tried to hide under the covers, but it was no good. Eventually she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. She woke up in the morning, freckled with bites, cobwebs covering her eyes, her mouth, and nose.
The bites faded before she even got dressed, so she had nothing to show her stepmother except cobwebs, which her stepmother thought was some sort of clever trick.
No more talk of spiders, her stepmother said firmly. You’re a big girl now.
The second night, the spiders came again. Her stepmother continued to be the bad cop. Annabeth wasn’t allowed to call her father and bother him with this nonsense. No, he would not come home early.
The third night, Annabeth ran away from home.
Later, at Camp Half-Blood, she learned that all children of Athena feared spiders. Long ago, Athena had taught the mortal weaver Arachne a hard lesson—cursing her for her pride by turning her into the first spider. Ever since, spiders had hated the children of Athena.
But that didn’t make her fear easier to deal with. Once, she’d almost killed Connor Stoll at camp for putting a tarantula in her bunk. Years later, she’d had a panic attack at a water park in Denver, when Percy and she were assaulted by mechanical spiders. And the past few weeks, Annabeth had dreamed of spiders almost every night—crawling over her, suffocating her, wrapping her in webs.
Now, standing in the barracks at Fort Sumter, she was surrounded. Her nightmares had come true.
A sleepy voice murmured in her head: Soon, my dear. You will meet the weaver soon.
“Gaea?” Annabeth murmured. She feared the answer, but she asked: “Who—who is the weaver?”
The spiders became excited, swarming over the walls, swirling around Annabeth’s feet like a glistening black whirlpool. Only the hope that it might be an illusion kept Annabeth from passing out from fear.
I hope you survive, child, the woman’s voice said. I would prefer you as my sacrifice. But we must let the weaver take her revenge…
Gaea’s voice faded. On the far wall, in the center of the spider swarm, a red symbol blazed to life: the figure of an owl like the one on the silver drachma, staring straight at Annabeth. Then, just as in her nightmares, the Mark of Athena burned across the walls, incinerating the spiders until the room was empty except for the smell of sickly sweet ashes.
Go, said a new voice—Annabeth’s mother. Avenge me. Follow the Mark.
The blazing symbol of the owl faded. The garrison door burst open. Annabeth stood stunned in the middle of the room, unsure whether she’d seen something real, or just a vision.
An explosion shook the building. Annabeth remembered that her friends were in danger. She’d stayed here much too long.
She forced herself to move. Still trembling, she stumbled outside. The ocean air helped clear her mind. She gazed across the courtyard—past the panicked tourists and fighting demigods—to the edge of the battlements, where a large mortar pointed out to sea.
It might have been Annabeth’s imagination, but the old artillery piece seemed to be glowing red. She dashed toward it. An eagle swooped at her, but she ducked and kept running. Nothing could possibly scare her as much as those spiders.
Roman demigods had formed ranks and were advancing toward the Argo II, but a miniature storm had gathered over their heads. Though the day was clear all around them, thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed above the Romans. Rain and wind pushed them back.
Annabeth didn’t stop to think about it.
She reached the mortar and put her hand on the muzzle. On the plug that blocked the opening, the Mark of Athena began to glow—the red outline of an owl.
“In the mortar,” she said. “Of course.”
She pried at the plug with her fingers. No luck. Cursing, she drew her dagger. As soon as the Celestial bronze touched the plug, the plug shrank and loosened. Annabeth pulled it off and stuck her hand inside the cannon.
Her fingers touched something cold, smooth, and metal. She pulled out a small disk of bronze the size of a tea saucer, etched with delicate letters and illustrations. She decided to examine it later. She thrust it in her pack and turned.
“Rushing off?” Reyna asked.
The praetor stood ten feet away, in full battle armor, holding a golden javelin. Her two metal greyhounds growled at her side.
Annabeth scanned the area. They were more or less alone. Most of the combat had moved toward the docks. Hopefully her friends had all made it on board, but they’d have to set sail immediately or risk being overrun. Annabeth had to hurry.
“Reyna,” she said, “what happened at Camp Jupiter was Gaea’s fault. Eidolons, possessing spirits—”
“Save your explanations,” Reyna said. “You’ll need them for the trial.”
The dogs snarled and inched forward. This time, it didn’t seem to matter to them that Annabeth was telling the truth. She tried to think of an escape plan. She doubted she could take Reyna in one-on-one combat. With those metal dogs, she stood no chance at all.
“If you let Gaea drive our camps apart,” Annabeth said, “the giants have already won. They’ll destroy the Romans, the Greeks, the gods, the whole mortal world.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Reyna’s voice was as hard as iron. “What choice have you left me? Octavian smells blood. He’s whipped the legion into a frenzy, and I can’t stop it. Surrender to me. I’ll bring you back to New Rome for trial. It won’t be fair. You’ll be painfully executed. But it may be enough to stop further violence. Octavian won’t be satisfied, of course, but I think I can convince the others to stand down.”
“It wasn’t me!”
“It doesn’t matter!” Reyna snapped. “Someone must pay for what happened. Let it be you. It’s the better option.”
Annabeth’s skin crawled. “Better than what?”
“Use that wisdom of yours,” Reyna said. “If you escape today, we won’t follow. I told you—not even a madman would cross the sea to the ancient lands. If Octavian can’t have vengeance on your ship, he’ll turn his attention to Camp Half-Blood. The legion will march on your territory. We will raze it and salt the earth.”
Kill the Romans, she heard her mother urging. They can never be your allies.
Annabeth wanted to sob. Camp Half-Blood was the only real home she’d ever known, and in a bid for friendship, she had told Reyna exactly where to find it. She couldn’t leave it at the mercy of the Romans and travel halfway around the world.
But their quest, and everything she’d suffered to get Percy back…if she didn’t go to the ancient lands, it would all mean nothing. Besides, the Mark of Athena didn’t have to lead to revenge.
If I could find the route, her mother had said, the way home…
How will you use your reward? Aphrodite had asked. For war or peace?
There was an answer. The Mark of Athena could lead her there—if she survived.
“I’m going,” she told Reyna. “I’m following the Mark of Athena to Rome.”
The praetor shook her head. “You have no idea what awaits you.”
“Yes, I do,” Annabeth said. “This grudge between our camps…I can fix it.”
“Our grudge is thousands of years old. How can one person fix it?”
Annabeth wished she could give a convincing answer, show Reyna a 3-D diagram or a brilliant schematic, but she couldn’t. She just knew she had to try. She remembered that lost look on her mother’s face: I must return home.
“The quest has to succeed,” she said. “You can try to stop me, in which case we’ll have to fight to the death. Or you can let me go, and I’ll try to save both our camps. If you must march on Camp Half-Blood, at least try to delay. Slow Octavian down.”
Reyna’s eyes narrowed. “One daughter of a war goddess to another, I respect your boldness. But if you leave now, you doom your camp to destruction.”
“Don’t underestimate Camp Half-Blood,” Annabeth warned.
“You’ve never seen the legion at war,” Reyna countered.
Over by the docks, a familiar voice shrieked over the wind: “Kill them! Kill them all!”
Octavian had survived his swim in the harbor. He crouched behind his guards, screaming encouragement at the other Roman demigods as they struggled toward the ship, holding up their shields as if that would deflect the storm raging all around them.
On the deck of the Argo II, Percy and Jason stood together, their swords crossed. Annabeth got a tingle down her spine as she realized the boys were working as one, summoning the sky and the sea to do their bidding. Water and wind churned together. Waves heaved against the ramparts and lightning flashed. Giant eagles were knocked out of the sky. Wreckage of the flying chariot burned in the water, and Coach Hedge swung a mounted crossbow, taking potshots at the Roman birds as they flew overhead.
“You see?” Reyna said bitterly. “The spear is thrown. Our people are at war.”
“Not if I succeed,” Annabeth said.
Reyna’s expression looked the same as it had at Camp Jupiter when she realized Jason had found another girl. The praetor was too alone, too bitter and betrayed to believe anything could go right for her ever again. Annabeth waited for her to attack.
Instead, Reyna flicked her hand. The metal dogs backed away. “Annabeth Chase,” she said, “when we meet again, we will be enemies on the field of battle.”
The praetor turned and walked across the ramparts, her greyhounds behind her.
Annabeth feared it might be some sort of trick, but she had no time to wonder. She ran for the ship.
The winds that battered the Romans didn’t seem to affect her.
Annabeth sprinted through their lines. Octavian yelled, “Stop her!”
A spear flew past her ear. The Argo II was already pulling away from the dock. Piper was at the gangplank, her hand outstretched.
Annabeth leaped and grabbed Piper’s hand. The gangplank fell into the sea, and the two girls tumbled onto the deck.
“Go!” Annabeth screamed. “Go, go, go!”
The engines rumbled beneath her. The oars churned. Jason changed the course of the wind, and Percy called up a massive wave, which lifted the ship higher than the fort’s walls and pushed it out to sea. By the time the Argo II reached top speed, Fort Sumter was only a blot in the distance, and they were racing across the waves toward the ancient lands.

Categories: The Mark of Athena

The Mark of Athena - XIX Annabeth

THEY DIDN’T MAKE IT TO THE SHIP.
Halfway across the dock, three giant eagles descended in front of them. Each deposited a Roman commando in purple and denim with glittering gold armor, sword, and shield. The eagles flew away, and the Roman in the middle, who was scrawnier than the others, raised his visor.
“Surrender to Rome!” Octavian shrieked.
Hazel drew her cavalry sword and grumbled, “Fat chance, Octavian.”
Annabeth cursed under her breath. By himself, the skinny augur wouldn’t have bothered her, but the two other guys looked like seasoned warriors—a lot bigger and stronger than Annabeth wanted to deal with, especially since Piper and she were armed only with daggers.
Piper raised her hands in a placating gesture. “Octavian, what happened at camp was a setup. We can explain.”
“Can’t hear you!” Octavian yelled. “Wax in our ears—standard procedure when battling evil sirens. Now, throw down your weapons and turn around slowly so I can bind your hands.”
“Let me skewer him,” Hazel muttered. “Please.”
The ship was only fifty feet away, but Annabeth saw no sign of Coach Hedge on deck. He was probably below, watching his stupid martial arts programs. Jason’s group wasn’t due back until sunset, and Percy would be underwater, unaware of the invasion. If Annabeth could get on board, she could use the ballistae; but there was no way to get around these three Romans.
She was running out of time. The eagles circled overhead, crying out as if to alert their brethren: Hey, some tasty Greek demigods over here! Annabeth couldn’t see the flying chariot anymore, but she assumed it was close by. She had to figure out something before more Romans arrived.
She needed help…some kind of distress signal to Coach Hedge, or even better—Percy.
“Well?” Octavian demanded. His two friends brandished their swords.
Very slowly, using only two fingers, Annabeth drew her dagger. Instead of dropping it, she tossed it as far as she could into the water.
Octavian made a squeaking sound. “What was that for? I didn’t say toss it! That could’ve been evidence. Or spoils of war!”
Annabeth tried for a dumb-blonde smile, like: Oh, silly me. Nobody who knew her would have been fooled. But Octavian seemed to buy it. He huffed in exasperation.
“You other two…” He pointed his blade at Hazel and Piper. “Put your weapons on the dock. No funny bus—”
All around the Romans, Charleston Harbor erupted like a Las Vegas fountain putting on a show. When the wall of seawater subsided, the three Romans were in the bay, spluttering and frantically trying to stay afloat in their armor. Percy stood on the dock, holding Annabeth’s dagger.
“You dropped this,” he said, totally poker-faced.
Annabeth threw her arms around him. “I love you!”
“Guys,” Hazel interrupted. She had a little smile on her face. “We need to hurry.”
Down in the water, Octavian yelled, “Get me out of here! I’ll kill you!”
“Tempting,” Percy called down.
“What?” Octavian shouted. He was holding on to one of his guards, who was having trouble keeping them both afloat.
“Nothing!” Percy shouted back. “Let’s go, guys.”
Hazel frowned. “We can’t let them drown, can we?”
“They won’t,” Percy promised. “I’ve got the water circulating around their feet. As soon as we’re out of range, I’ll spit them ashore.”
Piper grinned. “Nice.”
They climbed aboard the Argo II, and Annabeth ran to the helm. “Piper, get below. Use the sink in the galley for an Iris-message. Warn Jason to get back here!”
Piper nodded and raced off.
“Hazel, go find Coach Hedge and tell him to get his furry hindquarters on deck!”
“Right!”
“And Percy—you and I need to get this ship to Fort Sumter.”
Percy nodded and ran to the mast. Annabeth took the helm. Her hands flew across the controls. She’d just have to hope she knew enough to operate them.
Annabeth had seen Percy control full-sized sailing ships before with only his willpower. This time, he didn’t disappoint. Ropes flew on their own—releasing the dock ties, weighing the anchor. The sails unfurled and caught the wind. Meanwhile Annabeth fired the engine. The oars extended with a sound like machine-gun fire, and the Argo II turned from the dock, heading for the island in the distance.
The three eagles still circled overhead, but they made no attempt to land on the ship, probably because Festus the figurehead blew fire whenever they got close. More eagles were flying in formation toward Fort Sumter—at least a dozen. If each of them carried a Roman demigod…that was a lot of enemies.
Coach Hedge came pounding up the stairs with Hazel at his hooves.
“Where are they?” he demanded. “Who do I kill?”
“No killing!” Annabeth ordered. “Just defend the ship!”
“But they interrupted a Chuck Norris movie!”
Piper emerged from below. “Got a message through to Jason. Kind of fuzzy, but he’s already on his way. He should be—oh! There!”
Soaring over the city, heading in their direction, was a giant bald eagle, unlike the golden Roman birds.
“Frank!” Hazel said.
Leo was holding on to the eagle’s feet, and even from the ship, Annabeth could hear him screaming and cursing.
Behind them flew Jason, riding the wind.
“Never seen Jason fly before,” Percy grumbled. “He looks like a blond Superman.”
“This isn’t the time!” Piper scolded him. “Look, they’re in trouble!”
Sure enough, the Roman flying chariot had descended from a cloud and was diving straight toward them. Jason and Frank veered out of the way, pulling up to avoid getting trampled by the pegasi. The charioteers fired their bows. Arrows whistled under Leo’s feet, which led to more screaming and cursing. Jason and Frank were forced to overshoot the Argo II and fly toward Fort Sumter.
“I’ll get ’em!” yelled Coach Hedge.
He spun the port ballista. Before Annabeth could yell, “Don’t be stupid!” Hedge fired. A flaming spear rocketed toward the chariot.
It exploded over the heads of the pegasi and threw them into a panic. Unfortunately it also singed Frank’s wings and sent him spiraling out of control. Leo slipped from his grasp. The chariot shot toward Fort Sumter, slamming into Jason.
Annabeth watched in horror as Jason—obviously dazed and in pain—lunged for Leo, caught him, then struggled to gain altitude. He only managed to slow their fall. They disappeared behind the ramparts of the fort. Frank tumbled after them. Then the chariot dropped somewhere inside and hit with a bone-shattering CRACK! One broken wheel spun into the air.
“Coach!” Piper screamed.
“What?” Hedge demanded. “That was just a warning shot!”
Annabeth gunned the engines. The hull shuddered as they picked up speed. The docks of the island were only a hundred yards away now, but a dozen more eagles were soaring overhead, each carrying a Roman demigod in its claws.
The Argo II’s crew would be outnumbered at least three to one.
“Percy,” Annabeth said, “we’re going to come in hard. I need you to control the water so we don’t smash into the docks. Once we’re there, you’re going to have to hold off the attackers. The rest of you help him guard the ship.”
“But—Jason!” Piper said.
“Frank and Leo!” Hazel added.
“I’ll find them,” Annabeth promised. “I’ve got to figure out where the map is. And I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who can do that.”
“The fort is crawling with Romans,” Percy warned. “You’ll have to fight your way through, find our friends—assuming they’re okay—find this map, and get everybody back alive. All on your own?”
“Just an average day.” Annabeth kissed him. “Whatever you do, don’t let them take this ship!”

Categories: The Mark of Athena

The Mark of Athena - XVIII Annabeth

THAT NIGHT, ANNABETH SLEPT without nightmares, which just made her uneasy when she woke up—like the calm before a storm.
Leo docked the ship at a pier in Charleston Harbor, right next to the seawall. Along the shore was a historical district with tall mansions, palm trees, and wrought-iron fences. Antique cannons pointed at the water.
By the time Annabeth came up on deck, Jason, Frank, and Leo had already left for the museum. According to Coach Hedge, they’d promised to be back by sunset. Piper and Hazel were ready to go, but first Annabeth turned to Percy, who was leaning on the starboard rail, gazing over the bay.
Annabeth took his hand. “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”
“Jump into the harbor,” he said casually, like another kid might say, I’m going to get a snack. “I want to try communicating with the local Nereids. Maybe they can give me some advice about how to free those captives in Atlanta. Besides, I think the sea might be good for me. Being in that aquarium made me feel…unclean.”
His hair was dark and tangled as usual, but Annabeth thought about the streak of gray he used to have on one side. When the two of them were fourteen, they’d taken turns (unwillingly) holding the weight of the sky. The strain left them both with some gray hair. Over the last year, while Percy had been missing, the gray streaks had finally disappeared from both of them, which made Annabeth sad and a little worried. She felt like she’d lost a symbolic bond with Percy.
Annabeth kissed him. “Good luck, Seaweed Brain. Just come back to me, okay?”
“I will,” he promised. “You do the same.”
Annabeth tried to push down her growing unease.
She turned to Piper and Hazel. “Okay, ladies. Let’s find the ghost of the Battery.”
Afterward, Annabeth wished she’d jumped into the harbor with Percy. She even would’ve preferred a museum full of ghosts.
Not that she minded hanging out with Hazel and Piper. At first, they had a pretty good time walking along the Battery. According to the signs, the seaside park was called White Point Gardens. The ocean breeze swept away the muggy heat of the summer afternoon, and it was pleasantly cool under the shade of the palmetto trees. Lining the road were old Civil War cannons and bronze statues of historical figures, which made Annabeth shudder. She thought about the statues in New York City during the Titan War, which had come to life thanks to Daedalus’s command sequence twenty-three. She wondered how many other statues around the country were secretly automatons, waiting to be triggered.
Charleston Harbor glittered in the sun. To the north and south, strips of land stretched out like arms enclosing the bay, and sitting in the mouth of the harbor, about a mile out, was an island with a stone fort. Annabeth had a vague memory of that fort being important in the Civil War, but she didn’t spend much time thinking about it.
Mostly she breathed in the sea air and thought about Percy. Gods forbid she ever had to break up with him. She’d never be able to visit the sea again without remembering her broken heart. She was relieved when they turned away from the seawall and explored the inland side of the gardens.
The park wasn’t crowded. Annabeth imagined that most of the locals had gone on summer vacation, or were holed up at home taking a siesta. They strolled along South Battery Street, which was lined with four-story Colonial mansions. The brick walls were blanketed with ivy. The facades had soaring white columns like Roman temples. The front gardens were bursting with rosebushes, honeysuckle, and flowering bougainvillea. It looked like Demeter had set the timer on all the plants to grow several decades ago, then forgotten to come back and check on them.
“Kind of reminds me of New Rome,” Hazel said. “All the big mansions and the gardens. The columns and arches.”
Annabeth nodded. She remembered reading how the American South had often compared itself to Rome back before the Civil War. In the old days their society had been all about impressive architecture, honor, and codes of chivalry. And on the evil side, it had also been about slavery. Rome had slaves, some Southerners had argued, so why shouldn’t we?
Annabeth shivered. She loved the architecture here. The houses and the gardens were very beautiful, very Roman. But she wondered why beautiful things had to be wrapped up with evil history. Or was it the other way around? Maybe the evil history made it necessary to build beautiful things, to mask the darker aspects.
She shook her head. Percy would hate her getting so philosophical. If she tried to talk to him about stuff like that, his eyes glazed over.
The other girls didn’t say much.
Piper kept looking around like she expected an ambush. She had said she’d seen this park in the blade of her knife, but she wouldn’t elaborate. Annabeth guessed she was afraid to. After all, the last time Piper had tried to interpret a vision from her knife, Percy and Jason had almost killed each other in Kansas.
Hazel also seemed preoccupied. Maybe she was taking in their surroundings, or maybe she was worrying about her brother. In less than four days, unless they found him and freed him, Nico would be dead.
Annabeth felt that deadline weighing on her, too. She’d always had mixed feelings about Nico di Angelo. She suspected that he’d had a crush on her ever since they rescued him and his big sister Bianca from that military academy in Maine; but Annabeth had never felt any attraction to Nico. He was too young and too moody. There was a darkness in him that made her uneasy.
Still, she felt responsible for him. Back when they had met, neither of them had known about his half sister, Hazel. At the time, Bianca had been Nico’s only living family. When she had died, Nico became a homeless orphan, drifting through the world alone. Annabeth could relate to that.
She was so deep in thought, she might have kept walking around the park forever, but Piper grabbed her arm.
“There.” She pointed across the harbor. A hundred yards out, a shimmering white figure floated on the water. At first, Annabeth thought it might be a buoy or a small boat reflecting the sunlight, but it was definitely glowing, and it was moving more smoothly than a boat, making a straight line toward them. As it got closer, Annabeth could tell it was the figure of a woman.
“The ghost,” she said.
“That’s not a ghost,” Hazel said. “No kind of spirit glows that brightly.”
Annabeth decided to take her word for it. She couldn’t imagine being Hazel, dying at such a young age and coming back from the Underworld, knowing more about the dead than the living.
As if in a trance, Piper walked across the street toward the edge of the seawall, narrowly avoiding a horse-drawn carriage.
“Piper!” Annabeth called.
“We’d better follow her,” Hazel said.
By the time Annabeth and Hazel caught up to her, the ghostly apparition was only a few yards away.
Piper glared at it like the sight offended her.
“It is her,” she grumbled.
Annabeth squinted at the ghost, but it blazed too brightly to make out details. Then the apparition floated up the seawall and stopped in front of them. The glow faded.
Annabeth gasped. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful and strangely familiar. Her face was hard to describe. Her features seemed to shift from those of one glamorous movie star to another. Her eyes sparkled playfully—sometimes green or blue or amber. Her hair changed from long, straight blond to dark chocolatey curls.
Annabeth was instantly jealous. She’d always wished she had dark hair. She felt like nobody took her seriously as a blonde. She had to work twice as hard to get recognition as a strategist, an architect, a senior counselor—anything that had to do with brains.
The woman was dressed like a Southern belle, just as Jason had described. Her gown had a low-cut bodice of pink silk and a three-tiered hoop skirt with white scalloped lace. She wore tall white silk gloves, and held a feathered pink-and-white fan to her chest.
Everything about her seemed calculated to make Annabeth feel inadequate: the easy grace with which she wore her dress, the perfect yet understated makeup, the way she radiated feminine charm that no man could possibly resist.
Annabeth realized that her jealousy was irrational. The woman was making her feel this way. She’d had this experience before. She recognized this woman, even though her face changed by the second, becoming more and more beautiful.
“Aphrodite,” she said.
“Venus?” Hazel asked in amazement.
“Mom,” Piper said, with no enthusiasm.
“Girls!” The goddess spread her arms like she wanted a group hug.
The three demigods did not oblige. Hazel backed into a palmetto tree.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Aphrodite said. “War is coming. Bloodshed is inevitable. So there’s really only one thing to do.”
“Uh…and that is?” Annabeth ventured.
“Why, have tea and chat, obviously. Come with me!”
Aphrodite knew how to do tea.
She led them to the central pavilion in the gardens—a white-pillared gazebo, where a table was set with silverware, china cups, and of course a steaming pot of tea, the fragrance shifting as easily as Aphrodite’s appearance—sometimes cinnamon, or jasmine, or mint. There were plates of scones, cookies, and muffins, fresh butter and jam—all of which, Annabeth figured, were incredibly fattening; unless, of course, you were the immortal goddess of love.
Aphrodite sat—or held court, rather—in a wicker peacock chair. She poured tea and served cakes without getting a speck on her clothes, her posture always perfect, her smile dazzling.
Annabeth hated her more and more the longer they sat.
“Oh, my sweet girls,” the goddess said. “I do love Charleston! The weddings I’ve attended in this gazebo—they bring tears to my eyes. And the elegant balls in the days of the Old South. Ah, they were lovely. Many of these mansions still have statues of me in their gardens, though they called me Venus.”
“Which are you?” Annabeth asked. “Venus or Aphrodite?”
The goddess sipped her tea. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Annabeth Chase, you’ve grown into quite a beautiful young lady. You really should do something with your hair, though. And, Hazel Levesque, your clothes—”
“My clothes?” Hazel looked down at her rumpled denim, not self-consciously, but baffled, as if she couldn’t imagine what was wrong with them.
“Mother!” Piper said. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“Well, I don’t see why,” the goddess said. “Just because you don’t appreciate my fashion tips, Piper, doesn’t mean the others won’t. I could do a quick makeover for Annabeth and Hazel, perhaps silk ball gowns like mine—”
“Mother!”
“Fine,” Aphrodite sighed. “To answer your question, Annabeth, I am both Aphrodite and Venus. Unlike many of my fellow Olympians, I changed hardly at all from one age to the other. In fact, I like to think I haven’t aged a bit!” Her fingers fluttered around her face appreciatively. “Love is love, after all, whether you’re Greek or Roman. This civil war won’t affect me as much as it will the others.”
Wonderful, Annabeth thought. Her own mother, the most levelheaded Olympian, was reduced to a raving, vicious scatterbrain in a subway station. And of all the gods who might help them, the only ones not affected by the Greek–Roman schism seemed to be Aphrodite, Nemesis, and Dionysus. Love, revenge, wine. Very helpful.
Hazel nibbled a sugar cookie. “We’re not in a war yet, my lady.”
“Oh, dear Hazel.” Aphrodite folded her fan. “Such optimism, yet you have heartrending days ahead of you. Of course war is coming. Love and war always go together. They are the peaks of human emotion! Evil and good, beauty and ugliness.”
She smiled at Annabeth as if she knew what Annabeth had been thinking earlier about the Old South.
Hazel set down her sugar cookie. She had a few crumbs on her chin, and Annabeth liked the fact that Hazel either didn’t know or didn’t care.
“What do you mean,” Hazel asked, “heartrending days?”
The goddess laughed as if Hazel were a cute puppy. “Well, Annabeth could give you some idea. I once promised to make her love life interesting. And didn’t I?”
Annabeth almost snapped the handle off her teacup. For years, her heart had been torn. First there was Luke Castellan, her first crush, who had seen her only as a little sister; then he’d turned evil and decided he liked her—right before he died. Next came Percy, who was infuriating but sweet, yet he had seemed to be falling for another girl named Rachel, and then he almost died, several times. Finally Annabeth had gotten Percy to herself, only to have him vanish for six months and lose his memory.
“Interesting,” Annabeth said, “is a mild way of putting it.”
“Well, I can’t take credit for all your troubles,” the goddess said. “But I do love twists and turns in a love story. Oh, all of you are such excellent stories—I mean, girls. You do me proud!”
“Mother,” Piper said, “is there a reason you’re here?”
“Hmm? Oh, you mean besides the tea? I often come here. I love the view, the food, the atmosphere—you can just smell the romance and heartbreak in the air, can’t you? Centuries of it.”
She pointed to a nearby mansion. “Do you see that rooftop balcony? We had a party there the night the American Civil War began. The shelling of Fort Sumter.”
“That’s it,” Annabeth remembered. “The island in the harbor. That’s where the first fighting of the Civil War happened. The Confederates shelled the Union troops and took the fort.”
“Oh, such a party!” Aphrodite said. “A string quartet, and all the men in their elegant new officers’ uniforms. The women’s dresses—you should’ve seen them! I danced with Ares—or was he Mars? I’m afraid I was a little giddy. And the beautiful bursts of light across the harbor, the roar of the cannons giving the men an excuse to put their arms around their frightened sweethearts!”
Annabeth’s tea was cold. She hadn’t eaten anything, but she felt like she wanted to throw up. “You’re talking about the beginning of the bloodiest war in U.S. history. Over six hundred thousand people died—more Americans than in World War One and World War Two combined.”
“And the refreshments!” Aphrodite continued. “Ah, they were divine. General Beauregard himself made an appearance. He was such a scoundrel. He was on his second wife, then, but you should have seen the way he looked at Lisbeth Cooper—”
“Mother!” Piper tossed her scone to the pigeons.
“Yes, sorry,” the goddess said. “To make the story short, I’m here to help you, girls. I doubt you’ll be seeing Hera much. Your little quest has hardly made her welcome in the throne room. And the other gods are rather indisposed, as you know, torn between their Roman and Greek sides. Some more than others.” Aphrodite fixed her gaze on Annabeth. “I suppose you’ve told your friends about your falling-out with your mother?”
Heat rose to Annabeth’s cheeks. Hazel and Piper looked at her curiously.
“Falling-out?” Hazel asked.
“An argument,” Annabeth said. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing!” the goddess said. “Well, I don’t know about that. Athena was the most Greek of all goddesses. The patron of Athens, after all. When the Romans took over…oh, they adopted Athena after a fashion. She became Minerva, the goddess of crafts and cleverness. But the Romans had other war gods who were more to their taste, more reliably Roman—like Bellona—”
“Reyna’s mom,” Piper muttered.
“Yes, indeed,” the goddess agreed. “I had a lovely talk with Reyna a while back, right here in the park. And the Romans had Mars, of course. And later, there was Mithras—not even properly Greek or Roman, but the legionnaires were crazy about his cult. I always found him crass and terribly nouveau dieu, personally. At any rate, the Romans quite sidelined poor Athena. They took away most
of her military importance. The Greeks never forgave the Romans for that insult. Neither did Athena.”
Annabeth’s ears buzzed.
“The Mark of Athena,” she said. “It leads to a statue, doesn’t it? It leads to…to the statue.”
Aphrodite smiled. “You are clever, like your mother. Understand, though, your siblings, the children of Athena, have been searching for centuries. None has succeeded in recovering the statue. In the meantime, they’ve been keeping alive the Greek feud with the Romans. Every civil war…so much bloodshed and heartbreak…has been orchestrated largely by Athena’s children.”
“That’s…” Annabeth wanted to say impossible, but she remembered Athena’s bitter words in Grand Central Station, the burning hatred in her eyes.
“Romantic?” Aphrodite offered. “Yes, I supposed it is.”
“But…” Annabeth tried to clear the fog from her brain. “The Mark of Athena, how does it work? Is it a series of clues, or a trail set by Athena—”
“Hmm.” Aphrodite looked politely bored. “I couldn’t say. I don’t believe Athena created the Mark consciously. If she knew where her statue was, she’d simply tell you where to find it. No…I’d guess the Mark is more like a spiritual trail of bread crumbs. It’s a connection between the statue and the children of the goddess. The statue wants to be found, you see, but it can only be freed by the most worthy.”
“And for thousands of years,” Annabeth said, “no one has managed.”
“Hold on,” Piper said. “What statue are we talking about?”
The goddess laughed. “Oh, I’m sure Annabeth can fill you in. At any rate, the clue you need is close by: a map of sorts, left by the children of Athena in 1861—a remembrance that will start you on your path, once you reach Rome. But as you said, Annabeth Chase, no one has ever succeeded in
following the Mark of Athena to its end. There you will face your worst fear—the fear of every child of Athena. And even if you survive, how will you use your reward? For war or for peace?”
Annabeth was glad for the tablecloth, because under the table, her legs were trembling. “This map,” she said, “where is it?”
“Guys!” Hazel pointed to the sky.
Circling above the palmetto trees were two large eagles. Higher up, descending rapidly, was a flying chariot pulled by pegasi. Apparently Leo’s diversion with Buford the end table hadn’t worked—at least not for long.
Aphrodite spread butter on a muffin as if she had all the time in the world. “Oh, the map is at Fort Sumter, of course.” She pointed her butter knife toward the island across the harbor. “It looks like the Romans have arrived to cut you off. I’d get back to your ship in a hurry if I were you. Would you care for some tea cakes to go?”

Categories: The Mark of Athena

The Mark of Athena - XVII Annabeth

ANNABETH WAS TRYING TO CHEER UP HAZEL, regaling her with Percy’s greatest Seaweed Brain moments, when Frank stumbled down the hall and burst into her cabin.
“Where’s Leo?” he gasped. “Take off! Take off!”
Both girls shot to their feet.
“Where’s Percy?” Annabeth demanded. “And the goat?”
Frank grabbed his knees, trying to breathe. His clothes were stiff and damp, like they’d been washed in pure starch. “On deck. They’re fine. We’re being followed!”
Annabeth pushed past him and took the stairs three at a time, Hazel right behind her and Frank trailing, still gasping for air. Percy and Hedge lay on the deck, looking exhausted. Hedge was missing his shoes. He grinned at the sky, muttering, “Awesome. Awesome.” Percy was covered with nicks and scratches, like he’d jumped through a window. He didn’t say anything, but he grasped Annabeth’s hand weakly as if to say, Be right with you, as soon as the world stops spinning.
Leo, Piper, and Jason, who’d been eating in the mess hall, came rushing up the stairs.
“What? What?” Leo cried, holding a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich. “Can’t a guy even take a lunch break? What’s wrong?”
“Followed!” Frank yelled again.
“Followed by what?” Jason asked.
“I don’t know!” Frank panted. “Whales? Sea monsters? Maybe Kate and Porky!”
Annabeth wanted to strangle the guy, but she wasn’t sure her hands would fit around his thick neck. “That makes absolutely no sense. Leo, you’d better get us out of here.”
Leo put his sandwich between his teeth, pirate style, and ran for the helm.
Soon the Argo II was rising into the sky. Annabeth manned the aft crossbow. She saw no sign of pursuit by whales or otherwise, but Percy, Frank, and Hedge didn’t start to recover until the Atlanta skyline was a hazy smudge in the distance.
“Charleston,” Percy said, hobbling around the deck like an old man. He still sounded pretty shaken up. “Set course for Charleston.”
“Charleston?” Jason said the name as if it brought back bad memories. “What exactly did you find in Atlanta?”
Frank unzipped his backpack and starting bringing out souvenirs. “Some peach preserves. A couple of T-shirts. A snow globe. And, um, these not-really-Chinese handcuffs.”
Annabeth forced herself to stay calm. “How about you start from the top—of the story, not the backpack.”
They gathered on the quarterdeck so Leo could hear the conversation as he navigated. Percy and Frank took turns relating what had happened at the Georgia Aquarium, with Coach Hedge interjecting from time to time: “That was awesome!” or “Then I kicked her in the head!”
At least the coach seemed to have forgotten about Percy and Annabeth falling asleep in the stable the night before. But judging from Percy’s story, Annabeth had worse problems to worry about than being grounded.
When Percy explained about the captive sea creatures in the aquarium, she understood why he seemed so upset.
“That’s terrible,” she said. “We need to help them.”
“We will,” Percy promised. “In time. But I have to figure out how. I wish…” He shook his head. “Never mind. First we have to deal with this bounty on our heads.”
Coach Hedge had lost interest in the conversation—probably because it was no longer about him—and wandered toward the bow of the ship, practicing his roundhouse kicks and complimenting himself on his technique.
Annabeth gripped the hilt of her dagger. “A bounty on our heads…as if we didn’t attract enough monsters already.”
“Do we get WANTED posters?” Leo asked. “And do they have our bounties, like, broken down on a price list?”
Hazel wrinkled her nose. “What are you talking about?”
“Just curious how much I’m going for these days,” Leo said. “I mean, I can understand not being as pricey as Percy or Jason, maybe…but am I worth, like, two Franks, or three Franks?”
“Hey!” Frank complained.
“Knock it off,” Annabeth ordered. “At least we know our next step is to go to Charleston, to find this map.”
Piper leaned against the control panel. She’d done her braid with white feathers today, which looked good with her dark brown hair. Annabeth wondered how she found the time. Annabeth could barely remember to brush her hair.
“A map,” Piper said. “But a map to what?”
“The Mark of Athena.” Percy looked cautiously at Annabeth, like he was afraid he’d overstepped. She must have been putting out a strong I don’t want to talk about it vibe.
“Whatever that is,” he continued. “We know it leads to something important in Rome, something that might heal the rift between the Romans and Greeks.”
“The giants’ bane,” Hazel added.
Percy nodded. “And in my dream, the twin giants said something about a statue.”
“Um…” Frank rolled his not-exactly-Chinese handcuffs between his fingers. “According to Phorcys, we’d have to be insane to try to find it. But what is it?”
Everyone looked at Annabeth. Her scalp tingled, as if the thoughts in her brain were agitating to get out: a statue…Athena…Greek and Roman, her nightmares, and her argument with her mom. She saw how the pieces were coming together, but she couldn’t believe it was true. The answer was too big, too important, and much too scary.
She noticed Jason studying her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking and didn’t like it any more than she did. Again she couldn’t help but wonder: Why does this guy make me so nervous? Is he really on my side? Or maybe that was her mom talking.…
“I—I’m close to an answer,” she said. “I’ll know more if we find this map. Jason, the way you reacted to the name Charleston…have you been there before?”
Jason glanced uneasily at Piper, though Annabeth wasn’t sure why.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Reyna and I did a quest there about a year ago. We were salvaging Imperial gold weapons from the C.S.S. Hunley.”
“The what?” Piper asked.
“Whoa!” Leo said. “That’s the first successful military submarine. From the Civil War. I always wanted to see that.”
“It was designed by Roman demigods,” Jason said. “It held a secret stash of Imperial gold torpedoes—until we rescued them and brought them back to Camp Jupiter.”
Hazel crossed her arms. “So the Romans fought on the Confederate side? As a girl whose grandmother was a slave, can I just say…not cool?”
Jason put his hands in front of him, palms up. “I personally was not alive then. And it wasn’t all Greeks on one side and all Romans on the other. But, yes. Not cool. Sometimes demigods make bad choices.” He looked sheepishly at Hazel. “Like sometimes we’re too suspicious. And we speak without thinking.”
Hazel stared at him. Slowly it seemed to dawn on her that he was apologizing.
Jason elbowed Leo.
“Ow!” Leo yelped. “I mean, yeah…bad choices. Like not trusting people’s brothers who, you know, might need saving. Hypothetically speaking.”
Hazel pursed her lips. “Fine. Back to Charleston. Are you saying we should check that submarine again?”
Jason shrugged. “Well…I can think of two places in Charleston we might search. The museum where they keep the Hunley—that’s one of them. It has a lot of relics from the Civil War. A map could be hidden in one. I know the layout. I could lead a team inside.”
“I’ll go,” Leo said. “That sounds cool.”
Jason nodded. He turned to Frank, who was trying to pull his fingers out of the Chinese handcuffs. “You should come too, Frank. We might need you.”
Frank looked surprised. “Why? Not like I was much good at that aquarium.”
“You did fine,” Percy assured him. “It took all three of us to break that glass.”
“Besides, you’re a child of Mars,” Jason said. “The ghosts of defeated causes are bound to serve you. And the museum in Charleston has plenty of Confederate ghosts. We’ll need you to keep them in line.”
Frank gulped. Annabeth remembered Percy’s comment about Frank turning into a giant goldfish, and she resisted the urge to smile. She would never be able to look at the big guy again without seeing him as a koi.
“Okay.” Frank relented. “Sure.” He frowned at his fingers, trying to pull them out of the trap. “Uh, how do you—?”
Leo chuckled. “Man, you’ve never seen those before? There’s a simple trick to getting out.”
Frank tugged again with no luck. Even Hazel was trying not to laugh.
Frank grimaced with concentration. Suddenly, he disappeared. On the deck where he’d been standing, a green iguana crouched next to an empty set of Chinese handcuffs.
“Well done, Frank Zhang,” Leo said dryly, doing his impression of Chiron the centaur. “That is exactly how people beat Chinese handcuffs. They turn into iguanas.”
Everybody busted out laughing. Frank turned back to human, picked up the handcuffs, and shoved them in his backpack. He managed an embarrassed smile.
“Anyway,” Frank said, clearly anxious to change the subject. “The museum is one place to search. But, uh, Jason, you said there were two?”
Jason’s smile faded. Whatever he was thinking about, Annabeth could tell it wasn’t pleasant.
“Yeah,” he said. “The other place is called the Battery—it’s a park right by the harbor. The last time I was there…with Reyna…” He glanced at Piper, then rushed on. “We saw something in the park. A ghost or some sort of spirit, like a Southern belle from the Civil War, glowing and floating along. We tried to approach it, but it disappeared whenever we got close. Then Reyna had this
feeling—she said she should try it alone. Like maybe it would only talk to a girl. She went up to the spirit by herself, and sure enough, it spoke to her.”
Everyone waited.
“What did it say?” Annabeth asked.
“Reyna wouldn’t tell me,” Jason admitted. “But it must have been important. She seemed…shaken up. Maybe she got a prophecy or some bad news. Reyna never acted the same around me after that.”
Annabeth considered that. After their experience with the eidolons, she didn’t like the idea of approaching a ghost, especially one that changed people with bad news or prophecies. On the other hand, her mom was the goddess of knowledge, and knowledge was the most powerful weapon. Annabeth couldn’t turn down a possible source of information.
“A girls’ adventure, then,” Annabeth said. “Piper and Hazel can come with me.”
Both nodded, though Hazel looked nervous. No doubt her time in the Underworld had given her enough ghost experiences for two lifetimes. Piper’s eyes flashed defiantly, like anything Reyna could do, she could do.
Annabeth realized that if six of them went on these two quests, it would leave Percy alone on the ship with Coach Hedge, which was maybe not a situation a caring girlfriend should put him in. Nor was she eager to let Percy out of her sight again—not after they’d been apart for so many months. On the other hand, Percy looked so troubled by his experience with those imprisoned sea creatures, she thought maybe he could use a rest. She met his eyes, asking him a silent question. He nodded as if to say, Yeah. It’ll be fine.
“So that’s settled.” Annabeth turned to Leo, who was studying his console, listening to Festus creak and click over the intercom. “Leo, how long until we reach Charleston?”
“Good question,” he muttered. “Festus just detected a large group of eagles behind us—long-range radar, still not in sight.”
Piper leaned over the console. “Are you sure they’re Roman?”
Leo rolled his eyes. “No, Pipes. It could be a random group of giant eagles flying in perfect formation. Of course they’re Roman! I suppose we could turn the ship around and fight—”
“Which would be a very bad idea,” Jason said, “and remove any doubt that we’re enemies of Rome.”
“Or I’ve got another idea,” Leo said. “If we went straight to Charleston, we could be there in a few hours. But the eagles would overtake us, and things would get complicated. Instead, we could send out a decoy to trick the eagles. We take the ship on a detour, go the long way to Charleston, and get there tomorrow morning—”
Hazel started to protest, but Leo raised his hand. “I know, I know. Nico’s in trouble and we have to hurry.”
“It’s June twenty-seventh,” Hazel said. “After today, four more days. Then he dies.”
“I know! But this might throw the Romans off our trail. We still should have enough time to reach Rome.”
Hazel scowled. “When you say should have enough…”
Leo shrugged. “How do you feel about barely enough?”
Hazel put her face in her hands for a count of three. “Sounds about typical for us.”
Annabeth decided to take that as a green light. “Okay, Leo. What kind of decoy are we talking about?”
“I’m so glad you asked!” He punched a few buttons on the console, rotated the turntable, and repeatedly pressed the A button on his Wii controller really, really fast. He called into the intercom, “Buford? Report for duty, please.”
Frank took a step back. “There’s somebody else on the ship? Who is Buford?”
A puff of steam shot from the stairwell, and Leo’s automatic table climbed on deck.
Annabeth hadn’t seen much of Buford during the trip. He mostly stayed in the engine room. (Leo insisted that Buford had a secret crush on the engine.) He was a three-legged table with a mahogany top. His bronze base had several drawers, spinning gears, and a set of steam vents. Buford was toting a bag like a mail sack tied to one of his legs. He clattered to the helm and made a sound like a train whistle.
“This is Buford,” Leo announced.
“You name your furniture?” Frank asked.
Leo snorted. “Man, you just wish you had furniture this cool. Buford, are you ready for Operation End Table?”
Buford spewed steam. He stepped to the railing. His mahogany top split into four pie slices, which elongated into wooden blades. The blades spun, and Buford took off.
“A helicopter table,” Percy muttered. “Gotta admit, that’s cool. What’s in the bag?”
“Dirty demigod laundry,” Leo said. “I hope you don’t mind, Frank.”
Frank choked. “What?”
“It’ll throw the eagles off our scent.”
“Those were my only extra pants!”
Leo shrugged. “I asked Buford to get them laundered and folded while he’s out. Hopefully he will.” He rubbed his hands and grinned. “Well! I call that a good day’s work. I’m gonna calculate our detour route now. See you all at dinner!”
Percy passed out early, which left Annabeth with nothing to do in the evening except stare at her computer.
She’d brought Daedalus’s laptop with her, of course. Two years ago, she’d inherited the machine from the greatest inventor of all time, and it was loaded with invention ideas, schematics, and diagrams, most of which Annabeth was still trying to figure out. After two years, a typical laptop would have been out of date, but Annabeth figured Daedalus’s machine was still about fifty years ahead of its time. It could expand into a full-size laptop, shrink into a tablet computer, or fold into a wafer of metal smaller than a cell phone. It ran faster than any computer she’d ever had, could access satellites or Hephaestus-TV broadcasts from Mount Olympus, and ran custom-made programs that could do just about anything except tie shoelaces. There might have been an app for that, too, but Annabeth hadn’t found it yet.
She sat on her bunk, using one of Daedalus’s 3-D-rendering programs to study a model of the Parthenon in Athens. She’d always yearned to visit it, both because she loved architecture and because it was the most famous temple to her mother.
Now she might get her wish, if they lived long enough to reach Greece. But the more she thought about the Mark of Athena, and the old Roman legend Reyna had mentioned, the more nervous she got.
She didn’t want to, but she recalled her argument with her mother. Even after so many weeks, the words still stung.
Annabeth had been riding the subway back from the Upper East Side after visiting Percy’s mom. During those long months when Percy was missing, Annabeth made the trip at least once a week—partly to give Sally Jackson and her husband Paul an update on the search, and partly because Annabeth and Sally needed to lift each other’s spirits and convince one another that Percy would be fine.
The spring had been especially hard. By then, Annabeth had reason to hope Percy was alive, since Hera’s plan seemed to involve sending him to the Roman side, but she couldn’t be sure where he was. Jason had remembered his old camp’s location more or less, but all the Greeks’ magic—even that of
the campers of Hecate’s cabin—couldn’t confirm that Percy was there, or anywhere. He seemed to have disappeared from the planet. Rachel the Oracle had tried to read the future, and while she couldn’t see much, she’d been certain that Leo needed to finish the Argo II before they could contact the Romans.
Nevertheless, Annabeth had spent every spare moment scouring all sources for any rumors of Percy. She had talked to nature spirits, read legends about Rome, dug for clues on Daedalus’s notebook, and spent hundreds of golden drachmas on Iris-messages to every friendly spirit, demigod, or monster she’d ever met, all with no luck.
That particular afternoon, coming back from Sally’s, Annabeth had felt even more drained than usual. She and Sally had first cried and then attempted to pull themselves together, but their nerves were frayed. Finally Annabeth took the Lexington Avenue subway down to Grand Central.
There were other ways to get back to her high school dorm from the Upper East Side, but Annabeth liked going through Grand Central Terminal. The beautiful design and the vast open space reminded her of Mount Olympus. Grand buildings made her feel better—maybe because being in a place so permanent made her feel more permanent.
She had just passed Sweet on America, the candy shop where Percy’s mom used to work, and was thinking about going inside to buy some blue candy for old times’ sake, when she saw Athena studying the subway map on the wall.
“Mother!” Annabeth couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t seen her mom in months—not since Zeus had closed the gates of Olympus and forbidden all communication with demigods.
Many times, Annabeth had tried to call on her mom anyway, pleading for guidance, sending up burnt offerings with every meal at camp. She’d had no response. Now here was Athena, dressed in jeans and hiking boots and a red flannel shirt, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She held a backpack and a walking stick like she was prepared for a long journey.
“I must return home,” Athena murmured, studying the map. “The way is complex. I wish Odysseus were here. He would understand.”
“Mom!” Annabeth said. “Athena!”
The goddess turned. She seemed to look right through Annabeth with no recognition.
“That was my name,” the goddess said dreamily. “Before they sacked my city, took my identity, made me this.” She looked at her clothes in disgust. “I must return home.”
Annabeth stepped back in shock. “You’re…you’re Minerva?”
“Don’t call me that!” The goddess’s gray eyes flared with anger. “I used to carry a spear and a shield. I held victory in the palm of my hand. I was so much more than this.”
“Mom.” Annabeth’s voice trembled. “It’s me, Annabeth. Your daughter.”
“My daughter…” Athena repeated. “Yes, my children will avenge me. They must destroy the Romans. Horrible, dishonorable, copycat Romans. Hera argued that we must keep the two camps apart. I said, No, let them fight. Let my children destroy the usurpers.”
Annabeth’s heartbeat thumped in her ears. “You wanted that? But you’re wise. You understand warfare better than any—”
“Once!” the goddess said. “Replaced. Sacked. Looted like a trophy and carted off—away from my beloved homeland. I lost so much. I swore I would never forgive. Neither would my children.” She focused more closely on Annabeth. “You are my daughter?”
“Yes.”
The goddess fished something from the pocket of her shirt—an old-fashioned subway token—and pressed it into Annabeth’s hand.
“Follow the Mark of Athena,” the goddess said. “Avenge me.”
Annabeth had looked at the coin. As she watched, it changed from a New York subway token to an ancient silver drachma, the kind used by Athenians. It showed an owl, Athena’s sacred animal, with an olive branch on one side and a Greek inscription on the other.
The Mark of Athena.
At the time, Annabeth had had no idea what it meant. She didn’t understand why her mom was acting like this. Minerva or not, she shouldn’t be so confused.
“Mom…” She tried to make her tone as reasonable as possible. “Percy is missing. I need your help.” She had started to explain Hera’s plan for bringing the camps together to battle Gaea and the giants, but the goddess stamped her walking stick against the marble floor.
“Never!” she said. “Anyone who helps Rome must perish. If you would join them, you are no child of mine. You have already failed me.”
“Mother!”
“I care nothing about this Percy. If he has gone over to the Romans, let him perish. Kill him. Kill all the Romans. Find the Mark, follow it to its source. Witness how Rome has disgraced me, and pledge your vengeance.”
“Athena isn’t the goddess of revenge.” Annabeth’s nails bit into her palms. The silver coin seemed to grow warmer in her hand. “Percy is everything to me.”
“And revenge is everything to me,” the goddess snarled. “Which of us is wiser?”
“Something is wrong with you. What’s happened?”
“Rome happened!” the goddess said bitterly. “See what they have done, making a Roman of me. They wish me to be their goddess? Then let them taste their own evil. Kill them, child.”
“No!”
“Then you are nothing.” The goddess turned to the subway map. Her expression softened, becoming confused and unfocused. “If I could find the route…the way home, then perhaps— But, no. Avenge me or leave me. You are no child of mine.”
Annabeth’s eyes stung. She thought of a thousand horrible things she wanted to say, but she couldn’t. She had turned and fled.
She’d tried to throw away the silver coin, but it simply reappeared in her pocket, the way Riptide did for Percy. Unfortunately, Annabeth’s drachma had no magical powers—at least nothing useful. It only gave her nightmares, and no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get rid of it.
Now, sitting in her cabin aboard the Argo II, she could feel the coin growing warm in her pocket. She stared at the model of the Parthenon on her computer screen and thought about the argument with Athena. Phrases she’d heard over the last few days swirled in her head: A talented friend, ready for her visitor. No one will retrieve that statue. Wisdom’s daughter walks alone.
She was afraid she finally understood what it all meant. She prayed to the gods that she was wrong.
A knock on her door made her jump.
She hoped it might be Percy, but instead Frank Zhang poked his head in.
“Um, sorry,” he said. “Could I—?”
She was so startled to see him, it took her a moment to realize he wanted to come in.
“Sure,” she said. “Yes.”
He stepped inside, looking around the cabin. There wasn’t much to see. On her desk sat a stack of books, a journal and pen, and a picture of her dad flying his Sopwith Camel biplane, grinning and giving the thumbs-up. Annabeth liked that photo. It reminded her of the time she’d felt closest to him, when he’d strafed an army of monsters with Celestial bronze machine guns just to protect her—pretty much the best present a girl could hope for.
Hanging from a hook on the wall was her New York Yankees cap, her most prized possession from her mom. Once, the cap had had the power to turn its wearer invisible. Since Annabeth’s argument with Athena, the cap had lost its magic. Annabeth wasn’t sure why, but she’d stubbornly
brought it along on the quest. Every morning she would try it on, hoping it would work again. So far it had only served as a reminder of her mother’s wrath.
Otherwise, her cabin was bare. She kept it clean and simple, which helped her to think. Percy didn’t believe it because she always made excellent grades, but like most demigods, she was ADHD. When there were too many distractions in her personal space, she was never able to focus.
“So…Frank,” she ventured. “What can I do for you?”
Out of all the kids on the ship, Frank was the one she thought least likely to pay her a visit. She didn’t feel any less confused when he blushed and pulled his Chinese handcuffs out of his pocket.
“I don’t like being in the dark about this,” he muttered. “Could you show me the trick? I didn’t feel comfortable asking anyone else.”
Annabeth processed his words with a slight delay. Wait…Frank was asking her for help? Then it dawned on her: of course, Frank was embarrassed. Leo had been razzing him pretty hard. Nobody liked being a laughingstock. Frank’s determined expression said he never wanted that to happen again. He wanted to understand the puzzle, without the iguana solution.
Annabeth felt strangely honored. Frank trusted her not to make fun of him. Besides, she had a soft spot for anyone who was seeking knowledge—even about something as simple as Chinese handcuffs.
She patted the bunk next to her. “Absolutely. Sit down.”
Frank sat on the edge of the mattress, as if preparing for a quick escape. Annabeth took the Chinese handcuffs and held them next to her computer.
She hit the key for an infrared scan. A few seconds later a 3-D model of the Chinese handcuffs appeared on the screen. She turned the laptop so that Frank could see.
“How did you do that?” he marveled.
“Cutting-edge Ancient Greek technology,” she said. “Okay, look. The structure is a cylindrical biaxial braid, so it has excellent resilience.” She manipulated the image so it squeezed in and out like an accordion. “When you put your fingers inside, it loosens. But when you try to remove them, the circumference shrinks as the braid catches and tightens. There’s no way you can pull free by struggling.”
Frank stared at her blankly. “But what’s the answer?”
“Well…” She showed him some of her calculations—how the handcuffs could resist tearing under incredible stress, depending on the material used in the braid. “Pretty amazing for a woven structure, right? Doctors use it for traction, and electrical contractors—”
“Uh, but the answer?”
Annabeth laughed. “You don’t fight against the handcuffs. You push your fingers in, not out. That loosens the braid.”
“Oh.” Frank tried it. It worked. “Thanks, but…couldn’t you have just shown me on the handcuffs without the 3-D program and the calculations?”
Annabeth hesitated. Sometimes wisdom came from strange places, even from giant teenaged goldfish. “I guess you’re right. That was silly. I learned something too.”
Frank tried the handcuffs again. “It’s easy when you know the solution.”
“Many of the best traps are simple,” Annabeth said. “You just have to think about it, and hope your victim doesn’t.”
Frank nodded. He seemed reluctant to leave.
“You know,” Annabeth said, “Leo doesn’t intend to be mean. He’s just got a big mouth. When people make him nervous, he uses humor as a defense.”
Frank frowned. “Why would I make him nervous?”
“You’re twice his size. You can turn into a dragon.” And Hazel likes you, Annabeth thought, though she didn’t say that.
Frank didn’t look convinced. “Leo can summon fire.” He twisted the handcuffs. “Annabeth…sometime, maybe could you help me with another problem that’s not so simple? I’ve got…I guess you’d call it an Achilles’ heel.”
Annabeth felt like she’d just had a drink of Roman hot chocolate. She’d never really gotten the term warm and fuzzy, but Frank gave her that sensation. He was just a big teddy bear. She could see why Hazel liked him. “I’d be happy to,” she said. “Does anyone else know about this Achilles’ heel?”
“Percy and Hazel,” he said. “That’s it. Percy…he’s a really good guy. I would follow him anywhere. Thought you should know.”
Annabeth patted his arm. “Percy has a knack for picking good friends. Like you. But, Frank, you can trust anyone on this ship. Even Leo. We’re all a team. We have to trust each other.”
“I—I suppose.”
“So what’s the weakness you’re worried about?”
The dinner bell sounded, and Frank jumped.
“Maybe…maybe later,” he said. “It’s hard to talk about. But thanks, Annabeth.” He held up the Chinese handcuffs. “Keep it simple.”

Categories: The Mark of Athena

The Mark of Athena - XVI Percy

THE TUNNEL RAN ALONG THE FLOOR of a gymnasium-sized tank. Except for water and some cheap decorations, it seemed majestically empty. Percy guessed there were about fifty thousand gallons of water over their heads. If the tunnel were to shatter for some reason…
No big deal, Percy thought. I’ve been surrounded by water thousands of times. This is my home court.
But his heart was pounding. He remembered sinking into the cold Alaskan bog—black mud covering his eyes, mouth, and nose.
Phorcys stopped in the middle of the tunnel and spread his arms proudly. “Beautiful exhibit, isn’t it?”
Percy tried to distract himself by concentrating on details. In one corner of the tank, snuggled in a forest of fake kelp, was a life-sized plastic gingerbread cottage with bubbles coming out of the chimney. In the opposite corner, a plastic sculpture of a guy in an old-fashioned diving suit knelt beside a treasure chest, which popped open every few seconds, spewed bubbles, and closed again. Littered across the white sand floor were glass marbles the size of bowling balls, and a strange
assortment of weapons like tridents and spearguns. Outside the tank’s display wall was an amphitheater with seating for several hundred.
“What do you keep in here?” Frank asked. “Giant killer goldfish?”
Phorcys raised his eyebrows. “Oh, that would be good! But, no, Frank Zhang, descendant of Poseidon. This tank is not for goldfish.”
At descendant of Poseidon, Frank flinched. He stepped back, gripping his backpack like a mace he was prepared to swing.
A sense of dread trickled down Percy’s throat like cough syrup. Unfortunately, it was a feeling he was used to.
“How do you know Frank’s last name?” he demanded. “How do you know he’s descended from Poseidon?”
“Well…” Phorcys shrugged, trying to look modest. “It was probably in the descriptions Gaea provided. You know, for the bounty, Percy Jackson.”
Percy uncapped his pen. Instantly, Riptide appeared in his hand. “Don’t double-cross me, Phorcys. You promised me answers.”
“After the VIP treatment, yes,” Phorcys agreed. “I promised to tell you everything you need to know. The thing is, however, you don’t really need to know anything.” His grotesque smile stretched wide. “You see, even if you made it to Rome, which is quite unlikely, you’d never defeat my giant brothers without a god fighting at your side. And what god would help you? So I have a better plan. You’re not leaving. You’re VIPs—Very Important Prisoners!”
Percy lunged. Frank hurled his backpack at the sea god’s head. Phorcys simply disappeared.
The god’s voice reverberated through the aquarium’s sound system, echoing down the tunnel. “Yes, good! Fighting is good! You see, Mother never trusted me with big assignments, but she did agree that I could keep anything I caught. You two will make an excellent exhibit—the only demigod
spawn of Poseidon in captivity. ‘Demigod Terrors’—yes, I like that! We already have sponsorship lined up with Bargain Mart. You can fight each other every day at eleven AM and one PM, with an evening show at seven PM.”
“You’re crazy!” Frank yelled.
“Don’t sell yourself short!” Phorcys said. “You’ll be our biggest draw!”
Frank ran for the exit, only to slam into a glass wall. Percy ran the other way and found it blocked as well. Their tunnel had become a bubble. He put his hand against the glass and realized it was softening, melting like ice. Soon the water would come crashing in.
“We won’t cooperate, Phorcys!” he shouted.
“Oh, I’m optimistic,” the sea god’s voice boomed. “If you won’t fight each other at first, no problem! I can send in fresh sea monsters every day. After you get used to the food here, you’ll be properly sedated and will follow directions. Believe me, you’ll come to love your new home.”
Over Percy’s head, the glass dome cracked and began to leak.
“I’m the son of Poseidon!” Percy tried to keep the fear out of his voice. “You can’t imprison me in water. This is where I’m strongest.”
Phorcys’s laugh seemed to come from all around them. “What a coincidence! It’s also where I’m strongest. This tank is specially designed to contain demigods. Now, have fun, you two. I’ll see you at feeding time!”
The glass dome shattered, and the water crashed in.
Percy held his breath until he couldn’t stand it. When he finally filled his lungs with water, it felt just like normal breathing. The water pressure didn’t bother him. His clothes didn’t even get wet. His underwater abilities were as good as ever.
It’s just a stupid phobia, he assured himself. I’m not going to drown.
Then he remembered Frank, and he immediately felt a surge of panic and guilt. Percy had been so worried about himself that he’d forgotten his friend was only a distant descendant of Poseidon. Frank couldn’t breathe underwater.
But where was he?
Percy turned in a full circle. Nothing. Then he glanced up. Hovering about him was a giant goldfish. Frank had turned—clothes, backpack, and all—into a koi the size of a teenaged boy.
Dude. Percy sent his thoughts through the water, the way he spoke with other sea creatures. A goldfish?
Frank’s voice came back to him: I freaked. We were talking about goldfish, so it was on my mind. Sue me.
I’m having a telepathic conversation with a giant koi, Percy said. Great. Can you turn into something more…useful?
Silence. Maybe Frank was concentrating, though it was impossible to tell, since koi don’t have many expressions.
Sorry. Frank sounded embarrassed. I’m stuck. That happens sometimes when I panic.
Fine. Percy gritted his teeth. Let’s figure out how to escape.
Frank swam around the tank and reported no exits. The top was covered with Celestial bronze mesh, like the curtains that roll down over closed storefronts at the mall. Percy tried to cut through with Riptide, but he couldn’t make a dent. He tried to smash through the glass wall with his sword hilt—again, no luck. Then he repeated his efforts with several of the weapons lying around the bottom of the tank and managed to break three tridents, a sword, and a speargun.
Finally he tried to control the water. He wanted it to expand and break the tank, or explode out the top. The water didn’t obey. Maybe it was enchanted, or under the power of Phorcys. Percy
concentrated until his ears popped, but the best he could do was blow the lid off the plastic treasure chest.
Well, that’s it, he thought dejectedly. I’ll have to live in a plastic gingerbread house the rest of my life, fighting my giant goldfish friend and waiting for feeding time.
Phorcys had promised they’d learn to love it. Percy thought about the dazed telkhines, the Nereids and hippocampi, all swimming in bored, lazy circles. The thought of ending up like that didn’t help to lower his anxiety level.
He wondered if Phorcys was right. Even if they managed to escape, how could they defeat the giants if the gods were all incapacitated? Bacchus might be able to help. He had killed the twin giants once before, but he would only join the fight if he got an impossible tribute, and the idea of giving Bacchus any kind of tribute made Percy want to gag himself with a Monster Donut.
Look! Frank said.
Outside the glass, Keto was leading Coach Hedge through the amphitheater, lecturing him on something while the coach nodded and admired the stadium seating.
Coach! Percy yelled. Then he realized it was hopeless. The coach couldn’t hear telepathic yelling.
Frank bumped his head against the glass.
Hedge didn’t seem to notice. Keto walked him briskly across the amphitheater. She didn’t even look through the glass, probably because she assumed the tank was still empty. She pointed to the far end of the room as if saying, Come on. More gruesome sea monsters this way.
Percy realized he had only a few seconds before the coach would be gone. He swam after them, but the water didn’t help him move as it usually did. In fact, it seemed to be pushing him back. He dropped Riptide and used both arms.
Coach Hedge and Keto were five feet from the exit.
In desperation, Percy scooped up a giant marble and hurled it underhanded like a bowling ball.
It hit the glass with a thunk—not nearly loud enough to attract attention.
Percy’s heart sank.
But Coach Hedge had the ears of a satyr. He glanced over his shoulder. When he saw Percy, his expression went through several changes in a matter of microseconds—incomprehension, surprise, outrage, then a mask of calm.
Before Keto could notice, Hedge pointed toward the top of the amphitheater. It looked like he might be screaming, Gods of Olympus, what is that?
Keto turned. Coach Hedge promptly took off his fake foot and ninja-kicked her in the back of the head with his goat hoof. Keto crumpled to the floor.
Percy winced. His own recently whopped head throbbed in sympathy, but he had never been happier to have a chaperone who liked mixed martial arts cage matches.
Hedge ran to the glass. He held up his palms like: What are you doing in there, Jackson?
Percy pounded his fist on the glass and mouthed: Break it!
Hedge yelled a question that might have been: Where’s Frank?
Percy pointed at the giant koi.
Frank waved his left dorsal fin. ’Sup?
Behind Hedge, the sea goddess began to move. Percy pointed frantically.
Hedge shook his leg like he was warming up his kicking hoof, but Percy waved his arms, No. They couldn’t keep whopping Keto on the head forever. Since she was immortal, she wouldn’t stay down, and it wouldn’t get them out of this tank. It was only a matter of time before Phorcys came back to check on them.
On three, Percy mouthed, holding up three fingers and then gesturing at the glass. All of us hit it at the same time.
Percy had never been good at charades, but Hedge nodded like he understood. Hitting things was a language the satyr knew well.
Percy hefted another giant marble. Frank, we’ll need you too. Can you change form yet?
Maybe back to human.
Human is fine! Just hold your breath. If this works…
Keto rose to her knees. No time to waste.
Percy counted on his fingers. One, two, three!
Frank turned to human and shoved his shoulder against the glass. The coach did a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick with his hoof. Percy used all his strength to slam the marble into the wall, but he did more than that. He called on the water to obey him, and this time he refused to take no for an answer. He felt all the pent-up pressure inside the tank, and he put it to use. Water liked to be free. Given time, water could overcome any barrier, and it hated to be trapped, just like Percy. He thought about getting back to Annabeth. He thought about destroying this horrible prison for sea creatures. He thought about shoving Phorcys’s microphone down his ugly throat. Fifty thousand gallons of water responded to his anger.
The glass wall cracked. Fracture lines zigzagged from the point of impact, and suddenly the tank burst. Percy was sucked out in a torrent of water. He tumbled across the amphitheater floor with Frank, some large marbles, and a clump of plastic seaweed. Keto was just getting to her feet when the diver statue slammed into her like it wanted a hug.
Coach Hedge spit salt water. “Pan’s pipes, Jackson! What were you doing in there?”
“Phorcys!” Percy spluttered. “Trap! Run!”
Alarms blared as they fled the exhibits. They ran past the Nereids’ tank, then the telkhines. Percy wanted to free them, but how? They were drugged and sluggish, and they were sea creatures. They wouldn’t survive unless he found a way to transport them to the ocean.
Besides, if Phorcys caught them, Percy was pretty sure the sea god’s power would overcome his. And Keto would be after them too, ready to feed them to her sea monsters.
I’ll be back, Percy promised, but if the creatures in the exhibits could hear him, they gave no sign.
Over the sound system, Phorcys’s voice boomed: “Percy Jackson!”
Flash pots and sparklers exploded randomly. Donut-scented smoke filled the halls. Dramatic music—five or six different tracks—blared simultaneously from the speakers. Lights popped and caught fire as all the special effects in the building were triggered at once.
Percy, Coach Hedge, and Frank stumbled out of the glass tunnel and found themselves back in the whale shark room. The mortal section of the aquarium was filled with screaming crowds—families and day camp groups running in every direction while the staff raced around frantically, trying to assure everyone it was just a faulty alarm system.
Percy knew better. He and his friends joined the mortals and ran for the exit.

Categories: The Mark of Athena

The Mark of Athena - XV Percy

PERCY CLIMBED OUT ON DECK AND SAID, “WOW.”
They had landed near the summit of a forested hill. A complex of white buildings, like a museum or a university, nestled in a grove of pines to the left. Below them spread the city of Atlanta—a cluster of brown and silver downtown skyscrapers two miles away, rising from what looked like an endless flat sprawl of highways, railroad tracks, houses, and green swathes of forest.
“Ah, lovely spot.” Coach Hedge inhaled the morning air. “Good choice, Valdez.”
Leo shrugged. “I just picked a tall hill. That’s a presidential library or something over there. At least that’s what Festus says.”
“I don’t know about that!” Hedge barked. “But do you realize what happened on this hill? Frank Zhang, you should know!”
Frank flinched. “I should?”
“A son of Ares stood here!” Hedge cried indignantly.
“I’m Roman…so Mars, actually.”
“Whatever! Famous spot in the American Civil War!”
“I’m Canadian, actually.”
“Whatever! General Sherman, Union leader. He stood on this hill watching the city of Atlanta burn. Cut a path of destruction all the way from here to the sea. Burning, looting, pillaging—now there was a demigod!”
Frank inched away from the satyr. “Uh, okay.”
Percy didn’t care much about history, but he wondered whether landing here was a bad omen. He’d heard that most human civil wars started as fights between Greek and Roman demigods. Now they were standing on the site of one such battle. The entire city below them had been leveled on orders of a child of Ares.
Percy could imagine some of the kids at Camp Half-Blood giving such a command. Clarisse La Rue, for instance, wouldn’t hesitate. But he couldn’t imagine Frank being so harsh.
“Anyway,” Percy said, “let’s try not to burn down the city this time.”
The coach looked disappointed. “All right. But where to?”
Percy pointed toward downtown. “When in doubt, start in the middle.”
Catching a ride there was easier than they thought. The three of them headed to the presidential library—which turned out to be the Carter Center—and asked the staff if they could call a taxi or give them directions to the nearest bus stop. Percy could have summoned Blackjack, but he was reluctant to ask the pegasus for help so soon after their last disaster. Frank didn’t want to polymorph into anything. And besides, Percy was kind of hoping to travel like a regular mortal for a change.
One of the librarians, whose name was Esther, insisted on driving them personally. She was so nice about it, Percy thought she must be a monster in disguise; but Hedge pulled him aside and assured him that Esther smelled like a normal human.
“With a hint of potpourri,” he said. “Cloves. Rose petals. Tasty!”
They piled into Esther’s big black Cadillac and drove toward downtown. Esther was so tiny, she could barely see over the steering wheel; but that didn’t seem to bother her. She muscled her car through traffic while regaling them with stories about the crazy families of Atlanta—the old plantation owners, the founders of Coca-Cola, the sports stars, and the CNN news people. She sounded so knowledgeable that Percy decided to try his luck.
“Uh, so, Esther,” he said, “here’s a hard question for you. Salt water in Atlanta. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”
The old lady chuckled. “Oh, sugar. That’s easy. Whale sharks!”
Frank and Percy exchanged looks.
“Whale sharks?” Frank asked nervously. “You have those in Atlanta?”
“At the aquarium, sugar,” Esther said. “Very famous! Right downtown. Is that where you wanted to go?”
An aquarium. Percy considered that. He didn’t know what an Ancient Greek sea god would be doing at a Georgia aquarium, but he didn’t have any better ideas.
“Yes,” Percy said. “That’s where we’re going.”
Esther dropped them at the main entrance, where a line was already forming. She insisted on giving them her cell phone number for emergencies, money for a taxi ride back to the Carter Center, and a jar of homemade peach preserves, which for some reason she kept in a box in her trunk. Frank stuck the jar in his backpack and thanked Esther, who had already switched from calling him sugar to son.
As she drove away, Frank said, “Are all people in Atlanta that nice?”
Hedge grunted. “Hope not. I can’t fight them if they’re nice. Let’s go beat up some whale sharks. They sound dangerous!”
It hadn’t occurred to Percy that they might have to pay admission, or stand in line behind a bunch of families and kids from summer camps.
Looking at the elementary schoolers in their colorful T-shirts from various day camps, Percy felt a twinge of sadness. He should be at Camp Half-Blood right now, settling into his cabin for the summer, teaching sword-fighting lessons in the arena, planning pranks on the other counselors. These kids had no idea just how crazy a summer camp could be.
He sighed. “Well, I guess we wait in line. Anybody have money?”
Frank checked his pockets. “Three denarii from Camp Jupiter. Five dollars Canadian.”
Hedge patted his gym shorts and pulled out what he found. “Three quarters, two dimes, a rubber band and—score! A piece of celery.”
He started munching on the celery, eyeing the change and the rubber band like they might be next.
“Great,” Percy said. His own pockets were empty except for his pen/sword, Riptide. He was pondering whether or not they could sneak in somehow, when a woman in a blue-and-green Georgia Aquarium shirt came up to them, smiling brightly.
“Ah, VIP visitors!” She had perky dimpled cheeks, thick-framed glasses, braces, and frizzy black hair pulled to the sides in pigtails, so that even though she was probably in her late twenties, she looked like a schoolgirl nerd—sort of cute, but sort of odd. Along with her Georgia Aquarium polo shirt, she wore dark slacks and black sneakers, and she bounced on the balls of her feet like she simply couldn’t contain her energy. Her name tag read KATE.
“You have your payment, I see,” she said. “Excellent!”
“What?” Percy asked.
Kate scooped the three denarii out of Frank’s hand. “Yes, that’s fine. Right this way!”
She spun and trotted off toward the main entrance.
Percy looked at Coach Hedge and Frank. “A trap?”
“Probably,” Frank said.
“She’s not mortal,” Hedge said, sniffing the air. “Probably some sort of goat-eating, demigod-destroying fiend from Tartarus.”
“No doubt,” Percy agreed.
“Awesome.” Hedge grinned. “Let’s go.”
Kate got them past the ticket queue and into the aquarium with no problem.
“Right this way.” Kate grinned at Percy. “It’s a wonderful exhibit. You won’t be disappointed. So rare we get VIPs.”
“Uh, you mean demigods?” Frank asked.
Kate winked at him impishly and put a finger to her mouth. “So over here is the cold-water experience, with your penguins and beluga whales and whatnot. And over there…well, those are some fish, obviously.”
For an aquarium worker, she didn’t seem to know much or care much about the smaller fish. They passed one huge tank full of tropical species, and when Frank pointed to a particular fish and asked what it was, Kate said, “Oh, those are the yellow ones.”
They passed the gift shop. Frank slowed down to check out a clearance table with clothes and toys.
“Take what you want,” Kate told him.
Frank blinked. “Really?”
“Of course! You’re a VIP!”
Frank hesitated. Then he stuffed some T-shirts in his backpack.
“Dude,” Percy said, “what are you doing?”
“She said I could,” Frank whispered. “Besides, I need more clothes. I didn’t pack for a long trip!”
He added a snow globe to his stash, which didn’t seem like clothing to Percy. Then Frank picked up a braided cylinder about the size of a candy bar.
He squinted at it. “What is—?”
“Chinese handcuffs,” Percy said.
Frank, who was Chinese Canadian, looked offended. “How is this Chinese?”
“I don’t know,” Percy said. “That’s just what it’s called. It’s like a gag gift.”
“Come along, boys!” Kate called from across the hall.
“I’ll show you later,” Percy promised.
Frank stuffed the handcuffs in his backpack, and they kept walking.
They passed through an acrylic tunnel. Fish swam over their heads, and Percy felt irrational panic building in his throat.
This is dumb, he told himself. I’ve been underwater a million times. And I’m not even in the water.
The real threat was Kate, he reminded himself. Hedge had already detected that she wasn’t human. Any minute she might turn into some horrible creature and attack them. Unfortunately, Percy didn’t see much choice but to play along with her VIP tour until they could find the sea god Phorcys, even if they were walking deeper into a trap.
They emerged in a viewing room awash with blue light. On the other side of a glass wall was the biggest aquarium tank Percy had ever seen. Cruising in circles were dozens of huge fish, including two spotted sharks, each twice Percy’s size. They were fat and slow, with open mouths and no teeth.
“Whale sharks,” Coach Hedge growled. “Now we shall battle to the death!”
Kate giggled. “Silly satyr. Whale sharks are peaceful. They only eat plankton.”
Percy scowled. He wondered how Kate knew the coach was a satyr. Hedge was wearing pants and specially fitted shoes over his hooves, like satyrs usually did to blend in with mortals. His baseball cap covered his horns. The more Kate giggled and acted friendly, the more Percy didn’t like her; but Coach Hedge didn’t seem fazed.
“Peaceful sharks?” the coach said with disgust. “What’s the point of that?”
Frank read the plaque next to the tank. “The only whale sharks in captivity in the world,” he mused. “That’s kind of amazing.”
“Yes, and these are small,” Kate said. “You should see some of my other babies out in the wild.”
“Your babies?” Frank asked.
Judging from the wicked glint in Kate’s eyes, Percy was pretty sure he didn’t want to meet Kate’s babies. He decided it was time to get to the point. He didn’t want to go any farther into this aquarium than he had to.
“So, Kate,” he said, “we’re looking for a guy…I mean a god, named Phorcys. Would you happen to know him?”
Kate snorted. “Know him? He’s my brother. That’s where we’re going, sillies. The real exhibits are right through here.”
She gestured at the far wall. The solid black surface rippled, and another tunnel appeared, leading through a luminous purple tank.
Kate strolled inside. The last thing Percy wanted to do was follow, but if Phorcys was really on the other side, and if he had information that would help their quest…Percy took a deep breath and followed his friends into the tunnel.
As soon as they entered, Coach Hedge whistled. “Now that’s interesting.”
Gliding above them were multicolored jellyfish the size of trash cans, each with hundreds of tentacles that looked like silky barbed wire. One jellyfish had a paralyzed ten-foot-long swordfish tangled in its grasp. The jellyfish slowly wrapped its tendrils tighter and tighter around its prey.
Kate beamed at Coach Hedge. “You see? Forget the whale sharks! And there’s much more.”
Kate led them into an even larger chamber, lined with more aquariums. On one wall, a glowing red sign proclaimed: DEATH IN THE DEEP SEAS! Sponsored by Monster Donut.
Percy had to read the sign twice because of his dyslexia, and then twice more to let the message sink in. “Monster Donut?”
“Oh, yes,” Kate said. “One of our corporate sponsors.”
Percy gulped. His last experience with Monster Donut hadn’t been pleasant. It had involved acid-spitting serpent heads, much screaming, and a cannon.
In one aquarium, a dozen hippocampi—horses with the tails of fish—drifted aimlessly. Percy had seen many hippocampi in the wild. He’d even ridden a few; but he had never seen any in an aquarium. He tried to speak with them, but they just floated around, occasionally bonking against the glass. Their minds seemed addled.
“This isn’t right,” Percy muttered.
He turned and saw something even worse. At the bottom of a smaller tank, two Nereids—female sea spirits—sat cross-legged, facing each other, playing a game of Go Fish. They looked incredibly bored. Their long green hair floated listlessly around their faces. Their eyes were half closed.
Percy felt so angry, he could hardly breathe. He glared at Kate. “How can you keep them here?”
“I know.” Kate sighed. “They aren’t very interesting. We tried to teach them some tricks, but with no luck, I’m afraid. I think you’ll like this tank over here much better.”
Percy started to protest, but Kate had already moved on.
“Holy mother of goats!” cried Coach Hedge. “Look at these beauties!”
He was gawking at two sea serpents—thirty-foot-long monsters with glowing blue scales and jaws that could have bitten a whale shark in half. In another tank, peeking out from its cement cave, was a squid the size of an eighteen-wheeler, with a beak like a giant bolt cutter.
A third tank held a dozen humanoid creatures with sleek seal bodies, doglike faces, and human hands. They sat on the sand at the bottom of the tank, building things out of Legos, though the creatures seemed just as dazed as the Nereids.
“Are those—?” Percy struggled to form the question.
“Telkhines?” Kate said. “Yes! The only ones in captivity.”
“But they fought for Kronos in the last war!” Percy said. “They’re dangerous!”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Well, we couldn’t call it ‘Death in the Deep Seas’ if these exhibits weren’t dangerous. Don’t worry. We keep them well sedated.”
“Sedated?” Frank asked. “Is that legal?”
Kate appeared not to have heard. She kept walking, pointing out other exhibits. Percy looked back at the telkhines. One was obviously a youngster. He was trying to make a sword out of Legos, but he seemed too groggy to put the pieces together. Percy had never liked sea demons, but now he felt sorry for them.
“And these sea monsters,” Kate narrated up ahead, “can grow five hundred feet long in the deep ocean. They have over a thousand teeth. And these? Their favorite food is demigod—”
“Demigod?” Frank yelped.
“But they will eat whales or small boats, too.” Kate turned to Percy and blushed. “Sorry…I’m such a monster nerd! I’m sure you know all this, being the son of Poseidon, and all.”
Percy’s ears were ringing like alarm bells. He didn’t like how much Kate knew about him. He didn’t like the way she casually tossed out information about drugging captive creatures or which of her babies liked to devour demigods.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Does Kate stand for something?”
“Kate?” She looked momentarily confused. Then she glanced at her name tag. “Oh…” She laughed. “No, it’s—”
“Hello!” said a new voice, booming through the aquarium.
A small man scuttled out of the darkness. He walked sideways on bowed legs like a crab, his back hunched, his arms raised on either side like he was holding invisible plates.
He wore a wet suit that was several horrible shades of green. Glittery silver words printed down the side read: PORKY’S FOLLIES. A headset microphone was clamped over his greasy wiry hair. His eyes were milky blue, one higher than the other, and though he smiled, he didn’t look friendly—more like his face was being peeled back in a wind tunnel.
“Visitors!” the man said, the word thundering through the microphone. He had a DJ’s voice, deep and resonant, which did not at all match his appearance. “Welcome to Phorcys’s Follies!”
He swept his arms in one direction, as if directing their attention to an explosion. Nothing happened.
“Curse it,” the man grumbled. “Telkhines, that’s your cue! I wave my hands, and you leap energetically in your tank, do a synchronized double spin, and land in pyramid formation. We practiced this!”
The sea demons paid him no attention.
Coach Hedge leaned toward the crab man and sniffed his glittery wet suit. “Nice outfit.”
He didn’t sound like he was kidding. Of course, the satyr wore gym uniforms for fun.
“Thank you!” The man beamed. “I am Phorcys.”
Frank shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Why does your suit say Porky?”
Phorcys snarled. “Stupid uniform company! They can’t get anything right.”
Kate tapped her name tag. “I told them my name was Keto. They misspelled it as Kate. My brother…well, now he’s Porky.”
“I am not!” the man snapped. “I’m not even a little porky. The name doesn’t work with Follies, either. What kind of show is called Porky’s Follies? But you folks don’t want to hear us complain. Behold, the wondrous majesty of the giant killer squid!”
He gestured dramatically toward the squid tank. This time, fireworks shot off in front of the glass right on cue, sending up geysers of golden sparkles. Music swelled from the loudspeakers. The lights brightened and revealed the wondrous majesty of an empty tank.
The squid had apparently skulked back into its cave.
“Curse it!” Phorcys yelled again. He wheeled on his sister. “Keto, training the squid was your job. Juggling, I said. Maybe a bit of flesh-rending for the finale. Is that too much to ask?”
“He’s shy,” Keto said defensively. “Besides, each of his tentacles has sixty-two razorlike barbs that have to be sharpened daily.” She turned toward Frank. “Did you know the monstrous squid is the only beast known to eat demigods whole, armor and all, without getting indigestion? It’s true!”
Frank stumbled away from her, hugging his gut as if making sure he was still in one piece.
“Keto!” Porky snapped—literally, since he clicked his fingers to his thumbs like crab claws. “You’ll bore our guests with so much information. Less education, more entertainment! We’ve discussed this.”
“But—”
“No buts! We’re here to present ‘Death in the Deep Seas!’ Sponsored by Monster Donut!”
The last words reverberated through the room with extra echo. Lights flashed. Smoke clouds billowed from the floor, making donut-shaped rings that smelled like real donuts.
“Available at the concession stand,” Phorcys advised. “But you’ve spent your hard-earned denarii to get the VIP tour, and so you shall! Come with me!”
“Um, hold it,” Percy said.
Phorcys’s smile melted in an ugly way. “Yes?”
“You’re a sea god, aren’t you?” Percy asked. “Son of Gaea?”
The crab man sighed. “Five thousand years, and I’m still known as Gaea’s little boy. Never mind that I’m one of the oldest sea gods in existence. Older than your upstart father, by the way. I’m god of the hidden depths! Lord of watery terrors! Father of a thousand monsters! But, no…nobody even knows me. I make one little mistake, supporting the Titans in their war, and I’m exiled from the ocean—to Atlanta, of all places.”
“We thought the Olympians said Atlantis,” Keto explained. “Their idea of a joke, I guess, sending us here instead.”
Percy narrowed his eyes. “And you’re a goddess?”
“Keto, yes!” She smiled happily. “Goddess of sea monsters, naturally! Whales, sharks, squids, and other giant sea life, but my heart always belonged to the monsters. Did you know that young sea serpents can regurgitate the flesh of their victims and keep themselves fed for up to six years on the same meal? It’s true!”
Frank was still clutching his stomach like he was going to be sick.
Coach Hedge whistled. “Six years? That’s fascinating.”
“I know!” Keto beamed.
“And how exactly does a killer squid rend the flesh from its victims?” Hedge asked. “I love nature.”
“Oh, well—”
“Stop!” Phorcys demanded. “You’re ruining the show! Now, witness our Nereid gladiators fight to the death!”
A mirrored disco ball descended into the Nereid exhibit, making the water dance with multicolored light. Two swords fell to the bottom and plunked in the sand. The Nereids ignored them and kept playing Go Fish.
“Curse it!” Phorcys stomped his legs sideways.
Keto grimaced at Coach Hedge. “Don’t mind Porky. He’s such a windbag. Come with me, my fine satyr. I’ll show you full-color diagrams of the monsters’ hunting habits.”
“Excellent!”
Before Percy could object, Keto led Coach Hedge away through a maze of aquarium glass, leaving Frank and him alone with the crabby sea god.
A bead of sweat traced its way down Percy’s neck. He exchanged a nervous look with Frank. This felt like a divide-and-conquer strategy. He didn’t see any way the encounter was going to end well. Part of him wanted to attack Phorcys now—at least that might give them the element of surprise—but they hadn’t found out any useful information yet. Percy wasn’t sure he could find Coach Hedge again. He wasn’t even sure he could find the exit.
Phorcys must’ve read his expression.
“Oh, it’s fine!” the god assured him. “Keto might be a little boring, but she’ll take good care of your friend. And honestly, the best part of the tour is still to come!”
Percy tried to think, but he was starting to get a headache. He wasn’t sure if it was from yesterday’s head injury, Phorcys’s special effects, or his sister’s lectures on nauseating sea monster facts. “So…” he managed. “Dionysus sent us here.”
“Bacchus,” Frank corrected.
“Right.” Percy tried to keep his annoyance in check. He could barely remember one name for each god. Two was pushing it. “The wine god. Whatever.” He looked at Phorcys. “Bacchus said you might know what your mom Gaea is up to, and these twin giant brothers of yours—Ephialtes and Otis. And if you happen to know anything about this Mark of Athena—”
“Bacchus thought I would help you?” Phorcys asked.
“Well, yeah,” Percy said. “I mean, you’re Phorcys. Everybody talks about you.”
Phorcys tilted his head so that his mismatched eyes almost lined up. “They do?”
“Of course. Don’t they, Frank?”
“Oh…sure!” Frank said. “People talk about you all the time.”
“What do they say?” the god asked.
Frank looked uncomfortable. “Well, you have great pyrotechnics. And a good announcer’s voice. And, um, a disco ball—”
“It’s true!” Phorcys clacked his fingers and thumbs excitedly. “I also have the largest collection of captive sea monsters in the world!”
“And you know stuff,” Percy added. “Like about the twins and what they’re up to.”
“The twins!” Phorcys made his voice echo. Sparklers blazed to life in front of the sea serpent tank. “Yes, I know all about Ephialtes and Otis. Those wannabes! They never fit in with the other giants. Too puny—and those snakes for feet.”
“Snakes for feet?” Percy remembered the long, curly shoes the twins had been wearing in his dream.
“Yes, yes,” Phorcys said impatiently. “They knew they couldn’t get by on their strength, so they decided to go for drama—illusions, stage tricks, that sort of thing. You see, Gaea shaped her giant children with specific enemies in mind. Each giant was born to kill a certain god. Ephialtes and Otis…well, together they were sort of the anti-Dionysus.”
Percy tried to wrap his mind around that idea. “So…they want to replace all wine with cranberry juice or something?”
The sea god snorted. “Nothing like that! Ephialtes and Otis always wanted to do things better, flashier, more spectacular! Oh, of course they wanted to kill Dionysus. But first they wanted to humiliate him by making his revelries look tame!”
Frank glanced at the sparklers. “By using stuff like fireworks and disco balls?”
Phorcys’s mouth stretched into that wind tunnel smile. “Exactly! I taught the twins everything they know, or at least I tried to. They never listened. Their first big trick? They tried to reach Olympus by piling mountains on top of one another. It was just an illusion, of course. I told them it was ridiculous. ‘You should start small,’ I said. ‘Sawing each other in half, pulling gorgons out of a hat. That sort of thing. And matching sequined outfits. Twins need those!’”
“Good advice,” Percy agreed. “And now the twins are—”
“Oh, preparing for their doomsday show in Rome,” Phorcys sneered. “It’s one of Mother’s silly ideas. They’re keeping some prisoner in a large bronze jar.” He turned toward Frank. “You’re a child of Ares, aren’t you? You’ve got that smell. The twins imprisoned your father the same way, once.”
“Child of Mars,” Frank corrected. “Wait…these giants trapped my dad in a bronze jar?”
“Yes, another stupid stunt,” said the sea god. “How can you show off your prisoner if he’s in a bronze jar? No entertainment value. Not like my lovely specimens!”
He gestured to the hippocampi, who were bonking their heads apathetically against the glass.
Percy tried to think. He felt like the lethargy of the addled sea creatures was starting to affect him. “You said this—this doomsday show was Gaea’s idea?”
“Well…Mother’s plans always have lots of layers.” He laughed. “The earth has layers! I suppose that makes sense!”
“Uh-huh,” Percy said. “And so her plan…”
“Oh, she’s put out a general bounty on some group of demigods,” Phorcys said. “She doesn’t really care who kills them, as long as they’re killed. Well…I take that back. She was very specific that two must be spared. One boy and one girl. Tartarus only knows why. At any rate, the twins have their little show planned, hoping it will lure these demigods to Rome. I suppose the prisoner in the jar is a friend of theirs or some such. That, or perhaps they think this group of demigods will be foolish enough to come into their territory searching for the Mark of Athena.” Phorcys elbowed Frank in the ribs. “Ha! Good luck with that, eh?”
Frank laughed nervously. “Yeah. Ha-ha. That would be really dumb because, uh…”
Phorcys narrowed his eyes.
Percy slipped his hand into his pocket. He closed his fingers around Riptide. Even this old sea god must be smart enough to realize they were the demigods with the bounty on their heads.
But Phorcys just grinned and elbowed Frank again. “Ha! Good one, child of Mars. I suppose you’re right. No point talking about it. Even if the demigods found that map in Charleston, they’d never make it to Rome alive!”
“Yes, the MAP IN CHARLESTON,” Frank said loudly, giving Percy a wide-eyed look to make sure he hadn’t missed the information. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he had held up a large sign that read CLUE!!!!!
“But enough boring educational stuff!” Phorcys said. “You’ve paid for the VIP treatment. Won’t you please let me finish the tour? The three denarii entrance fee is nonrefundable, you know.”
Percy wasn’t excited about more fireworks, donut-scented smoke, or depressing captive sea creatures. But he glanced at Frank and decided they’d better humor the crabby old god, at least until they found Coach Hedge and got safely to the exit. Besides, they might be able to get more information out of Phorcys.
“Afterward,” Percy said, “can we ask questions?”
“Of course! I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” Phorcys clapped his hands twice. On the wall under the glowing red sign, a new tunnel appeared, leading into another tank.
“Walk this way!” Phorcys scuttled sideways through the tunnel.
Frank scratched his head. “Do we have to—?” He turned sideways.
“It’s just a figure of speech, man,” Percy said. “Come on.”

Categories: The Mark of Athena