This Cold Year ― Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase²

―i. gorgon health-code violations

NAOMI WAS GETTING REALLY TIRED OF KILLING THINGS.

It wasn't necessarily the killing part that was annoying—it was actually strangely familiar to wield a blade and watch her opponent explode into golden ashes. According to the she-wolf, that was her kind's purpose—kill monsters, protect mortals, and do the gods' wills to the best of their own mortal abilities.

The annoying part was the fact that the snake-haired ladies wouldn't stay dead.

They should have died three days ago when Percy dropped a crate of bowling balls on them at the Napa Bargain Mart. They should have died two days ago when Naomi sliced them into ribbons with her shadow-magic. They definitely should have died this morning when Percy and Naomi cut off their heads in Tilden Park.

No matter how many times Percy and Naomi killed them and watched them crumble into powder, they just kept re-forming like large evil dust bunnies. They could barely outrun them, either through Naomi's shadow-magic or just on their own feet.

They reached the top of the hill and caught their breath. Naomi's sides ached with stitches from running so long, but she knew they couldn't linger too long up here.

"Still alive, Percy?" she asked, though it was a needless question, since she could hear him panting beside her, just as worn out as her.

"And pissed," he answered between breaths.

Naomi wasn't quite sure how he was still standing. The past few days, he'd hardly slept, trying to let her rest every chance they got so she could keep shadow-traveling them away from the gorgons.

Still, even with Naomi's magic, they'd only really survived this long because the two snake-haired ladies—gorgons, they called themselves—couldn't seem to kill Percy, either. Their claws didn't cut his skin. Their teeth broke whenever they tried to bite him. But Percy couldn't keep going much longer, and Naomi definitely couldn't. It was only a matter of time before one or both of them collapsed with exhaustion, and when that happened, the gorgons would have no trouble tearing Naomi apart, and she was sure they'd find some way to do the same to Percy.

She forced herself to straighten up. "We have to keep moving."

Percy nodded his agreement. "But where to?"

Naomi scanned their surroundings. Under different circumstances, she might've enjoyed the view. To her left, golden hills rolled inland, dotted with lakes, woods, and a few herds of cows. To her right, the flatlands of Berkeley and Oakland marched west—a vast checkerboard of neighborhoods, with several million people who probably didn't want their morning interrupted by two monsters and two filthy demigods.

Farther west, San Francisco Bay glittered under a silvery haze. Past that, a wall of fog had swallowed most of San Francisco, leaving just the tops of skyscrapers and the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge.

A vague sadness weighed on Naomi's chest. Something told her she'd been to San Francisco before, and she was almost certain Percy had been with her. The city had some connection to Annabeth—the only other person either of them could remember from their pasts. Naomi's memory of her was growing alarmingly dim with every passing day.

The wolf had promised them that they would see her again and regain their memories—if they succeeded in their journey.

Should they try to cross the bay?

It was tempting. Percy had a connection to water, the same kind of connection Naomi had to darkness and the earth. Saltwater was best. They'd discovered that two days ago when he'd strangled a sea monster in the Carquinez Strait. If they could reach the bay, they might be able to make a last stand. Maybe Percy could even drown the gorgons.