Frank didn’t ask questions. He dropped his pack and slipped the bow off his shoulder.
Hazel’s heart raced. She hadn’t thought about this boggy soil—muskeg
—since before she had died. Now, too late, she remembered the dire warnings the locals had given her. Marshy silt and decomposed plants made a surface that looked completely solid, but it was even worse than quicksand. It could be twenty feet deep or more, and impossible to escape.
She tried not to think what would happen if it were deeper than the length of the bow.
“Hold one end,” she told Frank. “Don’t let go.”
She grabbed the other end, took a deep breath, and jumped into the bog.
The earth closed over her head.
Instantly, she was frozen in a memory.
Not now! she wanted to scream. Ella said I was done with blackouts!
Oh, but my dear, said the voice of Gaea, this is not one of your blackouts.
This is a gift from me.
Hazel was back in New Orleans. She and her mother sat in the park near their apartment, having a picnic breakfast. She remembered this day. She was seven years old. Her mother had just sold Hazel’s first precious stone: a small diamond. Neither of them had yet realized Hazel’s curse.
Queen Marie was in an excellent mood. She had bought orange juice for Hazel and champagne for herself, and beignets sprinkled with chocolate and
powdered sugar. She’d even bought Hazel a new box of crayons and a pad of paper. They sat together, Queen Marie humming cheerfully while Hazel drew pictures.
The French Quarter woke up around them, ready for Mardi Gras. Jazz bands practiced. Floats were being decorated with fresh-cut flowers.
Children laughed and chased each other, decked in so many colored necklaces they could barely walk. The sunrise turned the sky to red gold, and the warm steamy air smelled of magnolias and roses.
It had been the happiest morning of Hazel’s life.
“You could stay here.” Her mother smiled, but her eyes were blank white. The voice was Gaea’s.
“This is fake,” Hazel said.
She tried to get up, but the soft bed of grass made her lazy and sleepy.
The smell of baked bread and melting chocolate was intoxicating. It was the morning of Mardi Gras, and the world seemed full of possibilities. Hazel could almost believe she had a bright future.
“What is real?” asked Gaea, speaking through her mother’s face. “Is your second life real, Hazel? You’re supposed to be dead. Is it real that you’re sinking into a bog, suffocating?”
“Let me help my friend!” Hazel tried to force herself back to reality. She could imagine her hand clenched on the end of the bow, but even that was starting to feel fuzzy. Her grip was loosening. The smell of magnolias and roses was overpowering.
Her mother offered her a beignet.
No, Hazel thought. This isn’t my mother. This is Gaea tricking me. “You want your old life back,” Gaea said. “I can give you that. This
moment can last for years. You can grow up in New Orleans, and your
mother will adore you. You’ll never have to deal with the burden of your curse. You can be with Sammy—”
“It’s an illusion!” Hazel said, choking on the sweet scent of flowers.
“You are an illusion, Hazel Levesque. You were only brought back to life because the gods have a task for you. I may have used you, but Nico used you and lied about it. You should be glad I captured him.”
“Captured?” A feeling of panic rose in Hazel’s chest. “What do you mean?”
Gaea smiled, sipping her champagne. “The boy should have known better than to search for the Doors. But no matter—it’s not really your concern. Once you release Thanatos, you’ll be thrown back into the Underworld to rot forever. Frank and Percy won’t stop that from happening. Would real friends ask you to give up your life? Tell me who is lying, and who tells you the truth.”
Hazel started to cry. Bitterness welled up inside her. She’d lost her life once. She didn’t want to die again.
“That’s right,” Gaea purred. “You were destined to marry Sammy. Do you know what happened to him after you died in Alaska? He grew up and moved to Texas. He married and had a family. But he never forgot you. He always wondered why you disappeared. He’s dead now—a heart attack in the nineteen-sixties. The life you could’ve had together always haunted him.”
“Stop it!” Hazel screamed. “You took that from me!”
“And you can have it again,” Gaea said. “I have you in my embrace, Hazel. You’ll die anyway. If you give up, at least I can make it pleasant for you. Forget saving Percy Jackson. He belongs to me. I’ll keep him safe in the earth until I’m ready to use him. You can have an entire life in your final moments—you can grow up, marry Sammy. All you have to do is let go.”
Hazel tightened her grip on the bow. Below her, something grabbed her ankles, but she didn’t panic. She knew it was Percy, suffocating, desperately grasping for a chance at life.
Hazel glared at the goddess. “I’ll never cooperate with you! LET—US— GO!”
Her mother’s face dissolved. The New Orleans morning melted into darkness. Hazel was drowning in mud, one hand on the bow, Percy’s hands around her ankles, deep in the darkness. Hazel wiggled the end of the bow frantically. Frank pulled her up with such force it nearly popped her arm out of the socket.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying in the grass, covered in muck.
Percy sprawled at her feet, coughing and spitting mud.
Frank hovered over them, yelling, “Oh, gods! Oh, gods! Oh, gods!” He yanked some extra clothes from his bag and started toweling off
Hazel’s face, but it didn’t do much good. He dragged Percy farther from the
muskeg.
“You were down there so long!” Frank cried. “I didn’t think—oh, gods, don’t ever do something like that again!”
He wrapped Hazel in a bear hug. “Can’t—breathe,” she choked out.
“Sorry!” Frank went back to toweling and fussing over them. Finally he got them to the side of the road, where they sat and shivered and spit up mud clods.
Hazel couldn’t feel her hands. She wasn’t sure if she was cold or in shock, but she managed to explain about the muskeg, and the vision she’d seen while she was under. Not the part about Sammy—that was still too painful to say out loud—but she told them about Gaea’s offer of a fake life, and the goddess’ claim that she’d captured her brother Nico. Hazel didn’t want to keep that to herself. She was afraid the despair would overwhelm her.
Percy rubbed his shoulders, his lips a shade of blue. “You—you saved me, Hazel. I promise we’ll figure out what happened to Nico.”
Hazel squinted up at the sun, now high in the sky. The warmth felt good, but it didn’t stop her from trembling. “Doesn’t it seem like Gaea let us go a bit too easily?”
Percy pulled a clod of mud from his hair. “Maybe she still wants us as pawns. Or she was just trying to mess with your head.”
“She knew exactly what to say,” Hazel agreed. “She knew how to get to me.”
Frank wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. “This is real life, you know? We’re not going to let you die again.”
His determination was palpable, and Hazel didn’t want to argue. But how could Frank stand against Death? She pressed her coat pocket, feeling the half-burned firewood he had given her, securely wrapped. What would have happened if she had sunk into the mud forever? Maybe that would have saved him—fire couldn’t have reached the wood down there.
She would have done anything to keep Frank safe. Perhaps she hadn’t always felt that way, but he had trusted her with his life. He believed in her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of him coming to harm.
She glanced at the rising sun. Time was slipping away. She thought of Hylla, the Amazon Queen back in Seattle. Hylla would have dueled Otrera for two nights straight by now, assuming she had survived. Hylla was counting on Hazel to release Death.
With determination, she managed to stand. The wind off Resurrection Bay was just as cold as she remembered. “We need to get moving. We’re losing time.”
Percy looked down the road, his lips slowly returning to their normal color. “Any hotels around where we could clean up? I mean…hotels that accept mud people?”
“I’m not sure,” Hazel admitted.
She looked at the town below and couldn’t believe how much it had grown since 1942. The main harbor had moved east as the town had expanded. Most of the buildings were new to her, but the grid of downtown streets seemed familiar. She thought she recognized some warehouses along the shore. “I might know a place we can freshen up.”
