Forget the chicken-nugget smoke screen. Percy wanted Leo to invent an anti-dream hat.
That night he had horrible nightmares. First he dreamed he was back in Alaska on the quest for the legion’s eagle. He was hiking along a mountain road, but as soon as he stepped off the shoulder he was swallowed by the bog
—muskeg, Hazel had called it. He found himself choking in mud, unable to move or see or breathe. For the first time in his life, he understood what it was like to drown.
It’s just a dream, he told himself. I’ll wake up.
But that didn’t make it any less terrifying.
Percy had never been scared of water. It was his father’s element. But since the muskeg experience, he’d developed a fear of suffocation. He could never admit this to anyone, but it had even made him nervous about going in the water. He knew that was silly. He couldn’t drown. But he also suspected that if he didn’t control the fear, it might start controlling him.
He thought about his friend Thalia, who was scared of heights even though she was the daughter of the sky god. Her brother, Jason, could fly by summoning the winds. Thalia couldn’t, maybe because she was too afraid to try. If Percy started to believe he could drown…
The muskeg pressed against his chest. His lungs wanted to burst.
Stop panicking, he told himself. This isn’t real.
Just when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the dream changed.
He stood in a vast gloomy space like an underground parking garage. Rows of stone pillars marched off in every direction, holding up the ceiling about twenty feet above. Freestanding braziers cast a dim red glow over the floor.
Percy couldn’t see very far in the shadows, but hanging from the ceiling were pulley systems, sandbags, and rows of dark theater lights. Piled around the chamber, wooden crates were labeled PROPS, WEAPONS, and COSTUMES. One read: ASSORTED ROCKET LAUNCHERS.
Percy heard machinery creaking in the darkness, huge gears turning, and water rushing through pipes.
Then he saw the giant…or at least Percy guessed that he was a giant.
He was about twelve feet tall—a respectable height for a Cyclops, but only half as tall as other giants Percy had dealt with. He also looked more human than a typical giant, without the dragonlike legs of his larger kin. Nevertheless, his long purple hair was braided in a ponytail of dreadlocks, woven with gold and silver coins, which struck Percy as a giantish hairstyle. He had a ten-foot spear strapped to his back—a giantish weapon.
He wore the largest black turtleneck Percy had ever seen, black pants, and black leather shoes with points so long and curly, they might have been jester slippers. He paced back and forth in front of a raised platform, examining a bronze jar about the size of Percy.
“No, no, no,” the giant muttered to himself. “Where’s the splash? Where’s the value?” He yelled into the darkness, “Otis!”
Percy heard something shuffling in the distance. Another giant appeared out of the gloom. He wore exactly the same black outfit, right down to the curly shoes. The only difference between the two giants was that the second one’s hair was green rather than purple.
The first giant cursed. “Otis, why do you do this to me every day? I told you I was wearing the black turtleneck today. You could wear anything but the black turtleneck!”
Otis blinked as if he’d just woken up. “I thought you were wearing the yellow toga today.”
“That was yesterday! When you showed up in the yellow toga!” “Oh. Right. Sorry, Ephie.”
His brother snarled. They had to be twins, because their faces were identically ugly.
“And don’t call me Ephie,” Ephie demanded. “Call me Ephialtes. That’s my name. Or you can use my stage name: The BIG F!”
Otis grimaced. “I’m still not sure about that stage name.”
“Nonsense! It’s perfect. Now, how are the preparations coming along?” “Fine.” Otis didn’t sound very enthusiastic. “The man-eating tigers, the
spinning blades…But I still think a few ballerinas would be nice.”
“No ballerinas!” Ephialtes snapped. “And this thing.” He waved at the bronze jar in disgust. “What does it do? It’s not exciting.”
“But that’s the whole point of the show. He dies unless the others rescue him. And if they arrive on schedule—”
“Oh, they’d better!” Ephialtes said. “July First, the Kalends of July, sacred to Juno. That’s when Mother wants to destroy those stupid demigods and really rub it in Juno’s face. Besides, I’m not paying overtime for those gladiator ghosts!”
“Well, then, they all die,” Otis said, “and we start the destruction of Rome. Just like Mother wants. It’ll be perfect. The crowd will love it. Roman ghosts adore this sort of thing.”
Ephialtes looked unconvinced. “But the jar just stands there. Couldn’t we suspend it above a fire, or dissolve it in a pool of acid or something?”
“We need him alive for a few more days,” Otis reminded his brother. “Otherwise, the seven won’t take the bait and rush to save him.”
“Hmm. I suppose. I’d still like a little more screaming. This slow death is boring. Ah, well, what about our talented friend? Is she ready to receive her visitor?”
Otis made a sour face. “I really don’t like talking to her. She makes me nervous.”
“But is she ready?”
“Yes,” Otis said reluctantly. “She’s been ready for centuries. No one will be removing that statue.”
“Excellent.” Ephialtes rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “This is
our big chance, my brother.”
“That’s what you said about our last stunt,” Otis mumbled. “I was hanging in that block of ice suspended over the River Lethe for six months, and we didn’t even get any media attention.”
“This is different!” Ephialtes insisted. “We will set a new standard for entertainment! If Mother is pleased, we can write our own ticket to fame and fortune!”
“If you say so,” Otis sighed. “Though I still think those ballerina costumes from Swan Lake would look lovely—”
“No ballet!” “Sorry.”
“Come,” Ephialtes said. “Let’s examine the tigers. I want to be sure they are hungry!”
The giants lumbered off into the gloom, and Percy turned toward the jar. I need to see inside, he thought.
He willed his dream forward, right to the surface of the jar. Then he passed through.
The air in the jar smelled of stale breath and tarnished metal. The only light came from the dim purple glow of a dark sword, its Stygian iron blade set against one side of the container. Huddled next to it was a dejected- looking boy in tattered jeans, a black shirt, and an old aviator jacket. On his right hand, a silver skull ring glittered.
“Nico,” Percy called. But the son of Hades couldn’t hear him.
The container was completely sealed. The air was turning poisonous. Nico’s eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. He appeared to be meditating. His face was pale, and thinner than Percy remembered.
On the inner wall of the jar, it looked as though Nico had scratched three hash marks with his sword—maybe it had been three days that he’d been imprisoned?
It didn’t seem possible he could have survived so long without suffocating. Even in a dream, Percy was already starting to feel panicky, struggling to get enough oxygen.
Then he noticed something between Nico’s feet—a small collection of glistening objects no bigger than baby teeth.
Seeds, Percy realized. Pomegranate seeds. Three had been eaten and spit out. Five were still encased in dark red pulp.
“Nico,” Percy said, “where is this place? We’ll save you.…” The image faded, and a girl’s voice whispered: “Percy.”
At first, Percy thought he was still asleep. When he’d lost his memory, he’d spent weeks dreaming about Annabeth, the only person he remembered from his past. As his eyes opened and his vision cleared, he realized she was really there.
She was standing by his berth, smiling down at him.
Her blond hair fell across her shoulders. Her storm-gray eyes were bright with amusement. He remembered his first day at Camp Half-Blood, five years ago, when he’d woken from a daze and found Annabeth standing over him. She had said, You drool when you sleep.
She was sentimental that way.
“Wh—what’s going on?” he asked. “Are we there?”
“No,” she said, her voice low. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“You mean…” Percy’s heart started to race. He realized he was in his pajamas, in bed. He probably had been drooling, or at least making weird noises as he dreamed. No doubt he had a severe case of pillow hair and his breath didn’t smell great. “You sneaked into my cabin?”
Annabeth rolled her eyes. “Percy, you’ll be seventeen in two months. You can’t seriously be worried about getting into trouble with Coach Hedge.”
“Uh, have you seen his baseball bat?”
“Besides, Seaweed Brain, I just thought we could take a walk. We haven’t had any time to be together alone. I want to show you something—my favorite place aboard the ship.”
Percy’s pulse was still in overdrive, but it wasn’t from fear of getting into trouble. “Can I, you know, brush my teeth first?”
“You’d better,” Annabeth said. “Because I’m not kissing you until you do.
And brush your hair while you’re at it.”
For a trireme, the ship was huge, but it still felt cozy to Percy—like his dorm building back at Yancy Academy, or any of the other boarding schools he’d gotten kicked out of. Annabeth and he crept downstairs to the second deck,
which Percy hadn’t explored except for sickbay.
She led him past the engine room, which looked like a very dangerous, mechanized jungle gym, with pipes and pistons and tubes jutting from a central bronze sphere. Cables resembling giant metal noodles snaked across the floor and ran up the walls.
“How does that thing even work?” Percy asked.
“No idea,” Annabeth said. “And I’m the only one besides Leo who can operate it.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“It should be fine. It’s only threatened to blow up once.” “You’re kidding, I hope.”
She smiled. “Come on.”
They worked their way past the supply rooms and the armory. Toward the stern of the ship, they reached a set of wooden double doors that opened into a large stable. The room smelled of fresh hay and wool blankets. Lining the left wall were three empty horse stalls like the ones they used for pegasi back at camp. The right wall had two empty cages big enough for large zoo animals.
In the center of the floor was a twenty-foot-square see-through panel. Far below, the night landscape whisked by—miles of dark countryside crisscrossed with illuminated highways like the strands of a web.
“A glass-bottomed boat?” Percy asked.
Annabeth grabbed a blanket from the nearest stable gate and spread it across part of the glass floor. “Sit with me.”
They relaxed on the blanket as if they were having a picnic, and watched the world go by below.
“Leo built the stables so pegasi could come and go easily,” Annabeth said. “Only he didn’t realize that pegasi prefer to roam free, so the stables are always empty.”
Percy wondered where Blackjack was—roaming the skies somewhere, hopefully following their progress. Percy’s head still throbbed from getting whopped by Blackjack’s hoof, but he didn’t hold that against the horse.
“What do you mean, come and go easily?” he asked. “Wouldn’t a pegasus have to make it down two flights of stairs?”
Annabeth rapped her knuckles on the glass. “These are bay doors, like on a bomber.”
Percy gulped. “You mean we’re sitting on doors? What if they opened?” “I suppose we’d fall to our deaths. But they won’t open. Most likely.” “Great.”
Annabeth laughed. “You know why I like it here? It’s not just the view.
What does this place remind you of?”
Percy looked around: the cages and stables, the Celestial bronze lamp hanging from the beam, the smell of hay, and of course Annabeth sitting close to him, her face ghostly and beautiful in the soft amber light.
“That zoo truck,” Percy decided. “The one we took to Las Vegas.” Her smile told him he’d gotten the answer right.
“That was so long ago,” Percy said. “We were in bad shape, struggling to get across the country to find that stupid lightning bolt, trapped in a truck with a bunch of mistreated animals. How can you be nostalgic for that?”
“Because, Seaweed Brain, it’s the first time we really talked, you and me. I told you about my family, and…” She took out her camp necklace, strung with her dad’s college ring and a colorful clay bead for each year at Camp Half-Blood. Now there was something else on the leather cord: a red coral pendant Percy had given her when they had started dating. He’d brought it from his father’s palace at the bottom of the sea.
“And,” Annabeth continued, “it reminds me how long we’ve known each other. We were twelve, Percy. Can you believe that?”
“No,” he admitted. “So…you knew you liked me from that moment?”
She smirked. “I hated you at first. You annoyed me. Then I tolerated you for a few years. Then—”
“Okay, fine.”
She leaned over and kissed him: a good, proper kiss without anyone watching—no Romans anywhere, no screaming satyr chaperones.
She pulled away. “I missed you, Percy.”
Percy wanted to tell her the same thing, but it seemed too small a comment. While he had been on the Roman side, he’d kept himself alive almost solely by thinking of Annabeth. I missed you didn’t really cover that.
He remembered earlier in the night, when Piper had forced the eidolon to
leave his mind. Percy hadn’t been aware of its presence until she had used her charmspeak. After the eidolon was gone, he felt as if a hot spike had been removed from his forehead. He hadn’t realized how much pain he had been in until the spirit left. Then his thoughts became clearer. His soul settled comfortably back into his body.
Sitting here with Annabeth made him feel the same way. The past few months could have been one of his strange dreams. The events at Camp Jupiter seemed as fuzzy and unreal as that fight with Jason, when they had both been controlled by the eidolons.
Yet he didn’t regret the time he’d spent at Camp Jupiter. It had opened his eyes in a lot of ways.
“Annabeth,” he said hesitantly, “in New Rome, demigods can live their whole lives in peace.”
Her expression turned guarded. “Reyna explained it to me. But, Percy, you belong at Camp Half-Blood. That other life—”
“I know,” Percy said. “But while I was there, I saw so many demigods living without fear: kids going to college, couples getting married and raising families. There’s nothing like that at Camp Half-Blood. I kept thinking about you and me…and maybe someday when this war with the giants is over…”
It was hard to tell in the golden light, but he thought Annabeth was blushing. “Oh,” she said.
Percy was afraid he’d said too much. Maybe he’d scared her with his big dreams of the future. She was usually the one with the plans. Percy cursed himself silently.
As long as he’d known Annabeth, he still felt like he understood so little about her. Even after they’d been dating several months, their relationship had always felt new and delicate, like a glass sculpture. He was terrified of doing something wrong and breaking it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just…I had to think of that to keep going. To give me hope. Forget I mentioned—”
“No!” she said. “No, Percy. Gods, that’s so sweet. It’s just…we may have burned that bridge. If we can’t repair things with the Romans—well, the two sets of demigods have never gotten along. That’s why the gods kept us separate. I don’t know if we could ever belong there.”
Percy didn’t want to argue, but he couldn’t let go of the hope. It felt important—not just for Annabeth and him, but for all the other demigods. It had to be possible to belong in two different worlds at once. After all, that’s what being a demigod was all about—not quite belonging in the mortal world or on Mount Olympus, but trying to make peace with both sides of their nature.
Unfortunately, that got him thinking about the gods, the war they were facing, and his dream about the twins Ephialtes and Otis.
“I was having a nightmare when you woke me up,” he admitted. He told Annabeth what he’d seen.
Even the most troubling parts didn’t seem to surprise her. She shook her head sadly when he described Nico’s imprisonment in the bronze jar. She got an angry glint in her eyes when he told her about the giants planning some sort of Rome-destroying extravaganza that would include their painful deaths as the opening event.
“Nico is the bait,” she murmured. “Gaea’s forces must have captured him somehow. But we don’t know exactly where they’re holding him.”
“Somewhere in Rome,” Percy said. “Somewhere underground. They made it sound like Nico still had a few days to live, but I don’t see how he could hold out so long with no oxygen.”
“Five more days, according to Nemesis,” Annabeth said. “The Kalends of July. At least the deadline makes sense now.”
“What’s a Kalends?”
Annabeth smirked, like she was pleased they were back in their old familiar pattern—Percy being ignorant, she herself explaining stuff. “It’s just the Roman term for the first of the month. That’s where we get the word calendar. But how can Nico survive that long? We should talk to Hazel.”
“Now?”
She hesitated. “No. It can wait until morning. I don’t want to hit her with this news in the middle of the night.”
“The giants mentioned a statue,” Percy recalled. “And something about a talented friend who was guarding it. Whoever this friend was, she scared Otis. Anyone who can scare a giant…”
Annabeth gazed down at a highway snaking through dark hills. “Percy,
have you seen Poseidon lately? Or had any kind of sign from him?”
He shook his head. “Not since…Wow. I guess I haven’t thought about it. Not since the end of the Titan War. I saw him at Camp Half-Blood, but that was last August.” A sense of dread settled over him. “Why? Have you seen Athena?”
She didn’t meet his eyes.
“A few weeks ago,” she admitted. “It…it wasn’t good. She didn’t seem like herself. Maybe it’s the Greek/Roman schizophrenia that Nemesis described. I’m not sure. She said some hurtful things. She said I had failed her.”
“Failed her?” Percy wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Annabeth was the perfect demigod child. She was everything a daughter of Athena should be. “How could you ever—?”
“I don’t know,” she said miserably. “On top of that, I’ve been having nightmares of my own. They don’t make as much sense as yours.”
Percy waited, but Annabeth didn’t share any more details. He wanted to make her feel better and tell her it would be okay, but he knew he couldn’t. He wanted to fix everything for both of them so they could have a happy ending. After all these years, even the cruelest gods would have to admit they deserved it.
But he had a gut feeling that there was nothing he could do to help Annabeth this time, other than simply be there. Wisdom’s daughter walks alone.
He felt as trapped and helpless as when he’d sunk into the muskeg.
Annabeth managed a faint smile. “Some romantic evening, huh? No more bad things until the morning.” She kissed him again. “We’ll figure everything out. I’ve got you back. For now, that’s all that matters.”
“Right,” Percy said. “No more talk about Gaea rising, Nico being held hostage, the world ending, the giants—”
“Shut up, Seaweed Brain,” she ordered. “Just hold me for a while.”
They sat together cuddling, enjoying each other’s warmth. Before Percy knew it, the drone of the ship’s engine, the dim light, and the comfortable feeling of being with Annabeth made his eyes heavy, and he drifted to sleep.
When he woke, daylight was coming through the glass floor, and a boy’s
voice said, “Oh…You are in so much trouble.”
