Under different circumstances, wandering through Rome with Annabeth would have been pretty awesome. They held hands as they navigated the winding streets, dodging cars and crazy Vespa drivers, squeezing through mobs of tourists, and wading through oceans of pigeons. The day warmed up quickly. Once they got away from the car exhaust on the main roads, the air smelled of baking bread and freshly cut flowers.
They aimed for the Colosseum because that was an easy landmark, but getting there proved harder than Percy anticipated. As big and confusing as the city had looked from above, it was even more so on the ground. Several times they got lost on dead-end streets. They found beautiful fountains and huge monuments by accident.
Annabeth commented on the architecture, but Percy kept his eyes open for other things. Once he spotted a glowing purple ghost—a Lar—glaring at them from the window of an apartment building. Another time he saw a white- robed woman—maybe a nymph or a goddess—holding a wicked-looking knife, slipping between ruined columns in a public park. Nothing attacked them, but Percy felt like they were being watched, and the watchers were not friendly.
Finally they reached the Colosseum, where a dozen guys in cheap gladiator costumes were scuffling with the police—plastic swords versus
batons. Percy wasn’t sure what that was about, but he and Annabeth decided to keep walking. Sometimes mortals were even stranger than monsters.
They made their way west, stopping every once in a while to ask directions to the river. Percy hadn’t considered that—duh—people in Italy spoke Italian, while he did not. As it turned out, though, that wasn’t much of a problem. The few times someone approached them on the street and asked a question, Percy just looked at them in confusion, and they switched to English.
Next discovery: the Italians used euros, and Percy didn’t have any. He regretted this as soon as he found a tourist shop that sold sodas. By then it was almost noon, getting really hot, and Percy was starting to wish he had a trireme filled with Diet Coke.
Annabeth solved the problem. She dug around in her backpack, brought out Daedalus’s laptop, and typed in a few commands. A plastic card ejected from a slot in the side.
Annabeth waved it triumphantly. “International credit card. For emergencies.”
Percy stared at her in amazement. “How did you—? No. Never mind. I don’t want to know. Just keep being awesome.”
The sodas helped, but they were still hot and tired by the time they arrived at the Tiber River. The shore was edged with a stone embankment. A chaotic assortment of warehouses, apartments, stores, and cafés crowded the riverfront.
The Tiber itself was wide, lazy, and caramel-colored. A few tall cypress trees hung over the banks. The nearest bridge looked fairly new, made from iron girders, but right next to it stood a crumbling line of stone arches that stopped halfway across the river—ruins that might’ve been left over from the days of the Caesars.
“This is it.” Annabeth pointed at the old stone bridge. “I recognize that from the map. But what do we do now?”
Percy was glad she had said we. He didn’t want to leave her yet. In fact, he wasn’t sure he could make himself do it when the time came. Gaea’s words came back to him: Will you fall alone?
He stared at the river, wondering how they could make contact with the god Tiberinus. He didn’t really want to jump in. The Tiber didn’t look much
cleaner than the East River back home, where he’d had too many encounters with grouchy river spirits.
He gestured to a nearby café with tables overlooking the water. “It’s about lunchtime. How about we try your credit card again?”
Even though it was noon, the place was empty. They picked a table outside by the river, and a waiter hurried over. He looked a bit surprised to see them
—especially when they said they wanted lunch. “American?” he asked, with a pained smile. “Yes,” Annabeth said.
“And I’d love a pizza,” Percy said.
The waiter looked like he was trying to swallow a euro coin. “Of course you would, signor. And let me guess: a Coca-Cola? With ice?”
“Awesome,” Percy said. He didn’t understand why the guy was giving him such a sour face. It wasn’t like Percy had asked for a blue Coke.
Annabeth ordered a panini and some fizzy water. After the waiter left, she smiled at Percy. “I think Italians eat a lot later in the day. They don’t put ice in their drinks. And they only do pizza for tourists.”
“Oh.” Percy shrugged. “The best Italian food, and they don’t even eat it?” “I wouldn’t say that in front of the waiter.”
They held hands across the table. Percy was content just to look at Annabeth in the sunlight. It always made her hair so bright and warm. Her eyes took on the colors of the sky and the cobblestones, alternately brown or blue.
He wondered if he should tell Annabeth his dream about Gaea destroying Camp Half-Blood. He decided against it. She didn’t need anything else to worry about—not with what she was facing.
But it made him wonder…what would have happened if they hadn’t scared off Chrysaor’s pirates? Percy and Annabeth would’ve been put in chains and taken to Gaea’s minions. Their blood would have been spilled on ancient stones. Percy guessed that meant they would’ve been taken to Greece for some big horrible sacrifice. But Annabeth and he had been in plenty of bad situations together. They could’ve figured out an escape plan, saved the day… and Annabeth wouldn’t be facing this solo quest in Rome.
It doesn’t matter when you fall, Gaea had said.
Percy knew it was a horrible wish, but he almost regretted that they hadn’t been captured at sea. At least Annabeth and he would’ve been together.
“You shouldn’t feel ashamed,” Annabeth said. “You’re thinking about Chrysaor, aren’t you? Swords can’t solve every problem. You saved us in the end.”
In spite of himself, Percy smiled. “How do you do that? You always know what I’m thinking.”
“I know you,” she said.
And you like me anyway? Percy wanted to ask, but he held it back. “Percy,” she said, “you can’t carry the weight of this whole quest. It’s
impossible. That’s why there are seven of us. And you’ll have to let me search for the Athena Parthenos on my own.”
“I missed you,” he confessed. “For months. A huge chunk of our lives was taken away. If I lost you again—”
Lunch arrived. The waiter looked much calmer. Having accepted the fact that they were clueless Americans, he had apparently decided to forgive them and treat them politely.
“It is a beautiful view,” he said, nodding toward the river. “Enjoy, please.”
Once he left, they ate in silence. The pizza was a bland, doughy square with not a lot of cheese. Maybe, Percy thought, that’s why Romans didn’t eat it. Poor Romans.
“You’ll have to trust me,” Annabeth said. Percy almost thought she was talking to her sandwich, because she didn’t meet his eyes. “You’ve got to believe I’ll come back.”
He swallowed another bite. “I believe in you. That’s not the problem. But come back from where?”
The sound of a Vespa interrupted them. Percy looked along the riverfront and did a double take. The motor scooter was an old-fashioned model: big and baby blue. The driver was a guy in a silky gray suit. Behind him sat a younger woman with a headscarf, her hands around the man’s waist. They weaved between café tables and puttered to a stop next to Percy and Annabeth.
“Why, hello,” the man said. His voice was deep, almost croaky, like a movie actor’s. His hair was short and greased back from his craggy face. He
was handsome in a 1950s dad-on-television way. Even his clothes seemed old-fashioned. When he stepped off his bike, the waistline of his slacks was way higher than normal, but somehow he still managed to look manly and stylish and not like a total goober. Percy had trouble guessing his age—maybe thirty-something, though the man’s fashion and manner seemed grandfatherish.
The woman slid off the bike. “We’ve had the most lovely morning,” she said breathlessly.
She looked about twenty-one, also dressed in an old-fashioned style. Her ankle-length marigold skirt and white blouse were pinched together with a large leather belt, giving her the narrowest waist Percy had ever seen. When she removed her scarf, her short wavy black hair bounced into perfect shape. She had dark playful eyes and a brilliant smile. Percy had seen naiads that looked less pixieish than this lady.
Annabeth’s sandwich fell out of her hands. “Oh, gods. How—how… ?” She seemed so stunned that Percy figured he ought to know these two. “You guys do look familiar,” he decided. He thought he might have seen
their faces on television. It seemed like they were from an old show, but that couldn’t be right. They hadn’t aged at all. Nevertheless, he pointed at the guy and took a guess. “Are you that guy on Mad Men?”
“Percy!” Annabeth looked horrified.
“What?” he protested. “I don’t watch a lot of TV.”
“That’s Gregory Peck!” Annabeth’s eyes were wide, and her mouth kept falling open. “And…oh gods! Audrey Hepburn! I know this movie. Roman Holiday. But that was from the 1950s. How—?”
“Oh, my dear!” The woman twirled like an air spirit and sat down at their table. “I’m afraid you’ve mistaken me for someone else! My name is Rhea Silvia. I was the mother to Romulus and Remus, thousands of years ago. But you’re so kind to think I look as young as the 1950s. And this is my husband…”
“Tiberinus,” said Gregory Peck, thrusting out his hand to Percy in a manly way. “God of the River Tiber.”
Percy shook his hand. The guy smelled of aftershave. Of course, if Percy were the Tiber River, he’d probably want to mask the smell with cologne too.
“Uh, hi,” Percy said. “Do you two always look like American movie stars?”
“Do we?” Tiberinus frowned and studied his clothes. “I’m not sure, actually. The migration of Western civilization goes both ways, you know. Rome affected the world, but the world also affects Rome. There does seem to be a lot of American influence lately. I’ve rather lost track over the centuries.”
“Okay,” Percy said. “But…you’re here to help?”
“My naiads told me you two were here.” Tiberinus cast his dark eyes toward Annabeth. “You have the map, my dear? And your letter of introduction?”
“Uh…” Annabeth handed him the letter and the disk of bronze. She was staring at the river god so intently Percy started to feel jealous.
“S-so…” she stammered, “you’ve helped other children of Athena with this quest?”
“Oh, my dear!” The pretty lady, Rhea Silvia, put her hand on Annabeth’s shoulder. “Tiberinus is ever so helpful. He saved my children Romulus and Remus, you know, and brought them to the wolf goddess Lupa. Later, when that old king Numen tried to kill me, Tiberinus took pity on me and made me his wife. I’ve been ruling the river kingdom at his side ever since. He’s just dreamy!”
“Thank you, my dear,” Tiberinus said with a wry smile. “And, yes, Annabeth Chase, I’ve helped many of your siblings…to at least begin their journey safely. A shame all of them died painfully later on. Well, your documents seem in order. We should get going. The Mark of Athena awaits!”
Percy gripped Annabeth’s hand—probably a little too tight. “Tiberinus, let me go with her. Just a little farther.”
Rhea Silvia laughed sweetly. “But you can’t, silly boy. You must return to your ship and gather your other friends. Confront the giants! The way will appear in your friend Piper’s knife. Annabeth has a different path. She must walk alone.”
“Indeed,” Tiberinus said. “Annabeth must face the guardian of the shrine by herself. It is the only way. And Percy Jackson, you have less time than you realized to rescue your friend in the jar. You must hurry.”
Percy’s pizza felt like a cement lump in his stomach. “But—”
“It’s all right, Percy.” Annabeth squeezed his hand. “I need to do this.”
He started to protest. Her expression stopped him. She was terrified but doing her best to hide it—for his sake. If he tried to argue, he would only make things harder for her. Or worse, he might convince her to stay. Then she would have to live with the knowledge that she’d backed down from her biggest challenge…assuming that they survived at all, with Rome about to get leveled and Gaea about to rise and destroy the world. The Athena statue held the key to defeating the giants. Percy didn’t know why or how, but Annabeth was the only one who could find it.
“You’re right,” he said, forcing out the words. “Be safe.”
Rhea Silvia giggled like it was a ridiculous comment. “Safe? Not at all! But necessary. Come, Annabeth, my dear. We will show you where your path starts. After that, you’re on your own.”
Annabeth kissed Percy. She hesitated, like she was wondering what else to say. Then she shouldered her backpack and climbed on the back of the scooter.
Percy hated it. He would’ve preferred to fight any monster in the world. He would’ve preferred a rematch with Chrysaor. But he forced himself to stay in his chair and watch as Annabeth motored off through the streets of Rome with Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn.
